I like the dark room. I like his angry eyes.
The skeletons in his closet give me butterflies.
I didn't try to run and now I'm paying the price,
But what to do, father? This prison feels like paradise.
He treats me so well, he's always so nice!
...
«tell me why do the worse things in lifealways happen in slow motion?»
-
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Holding the hammer in his hand, he cocks a brow at me.
"What do you think?"
I gulp.
It was obvious now. Everything finally made sense.
He was a psychopath who wanted to hammer me to death. Is there anything to doubt? At that-
-Screeching like a wild animal, my subconscious quickly jumps into her grave, waving a white flag.
You brought this on yourself!! She throws a fluffy white slipper at me, bawling her eyes out.
When I say nothing in reply, he steps closer and crouches again right next to me and I quickly try to crawl away but my back hits the wall and I yelp in fright. I hate this. I hate how pitiful and scared I look.
Because this isn't me. I am strong.
But my hands are cuffed, I am locked in someone's basement and they have a hammer in their hand and they are crouching right in front of me, smiling so sickening sweetly..
What did I do to deserve this?
The tool is dangling by the handle from his idle grip right in front of me. I can feel the cold metal brushing the side of my thigh and I hear the dramatic steely scraping sound of the hammer against the cement floor. And then it stops. Hauntingly. The sound. Just silence.
I am quivering as I tuck my face between the shadows of my hair like a turtle taking shelter in its shell. It was like the psycho-thriller horror movies I'd watched. Just there were no jump scares, no dramatic music.
Only the piercing silence.
Like that of before a storm.
And the growing dread in the form of a lump in my throat because of the way I am aware he is observing me. Which is scarier than any horror movie I'd ever watched.
He is observing me and enjoying the way I have surrendered ever since I saw and understood he has the power to use all of his tools on me. I don't know half of what those tools do, but I know some are objects he has had custom made.
What will he do first? Pull out my nails by those clips? Spoon out my eyeballs? Chop my fingertips off? Grate my palms and hang them in acid to watch my bones melt? Cut my tongue, make me swallow it so I can choke on it and die? Hammer all of my toes one by one and make me walk on a bed of thorns by my heels? Heck, I don't know!
