Anathema 《A collection of short stories》

Sizzling Rage °Akio°

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《CONTENT WARNINGS》

{ This story contains torture, violence, cult activity, cursing, abuse.

If any of these disturb you, please proceed with caution. }

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《 Main Characters 》

Akio - main character

Chiyo - antagonist

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"That abomination should've died years ago. Why haven't we just killed the nuisance yet? He's our prisoner, he can't go anywhere!"

"We've tried, Null, numerous times; we're always stopped before we can get it done."

"But what's stopping us? He's too old to be a sacrifice now-"

"Silence! . . . Send in Chiyo. She knows what to do with the boy."

For a moment there was nothing. ". . . Yessir."

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Footsteps cascaded down the brick hallway, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls and making its way into a cell where a male silently hung by his wrists. The room was empty, silent- rather peaceful, given the circumstances; nevertheless, Akio Ziv was all alone within the confines of his cell, kept prisoner by the cult that he had been born into. He should've died when he was five, but he didn't- so here he was now, sixteen and kept prisoner just for the sole reason that he lived through the ritual all those years ago.

The chattering outside made him slowly awaken, head lifting as his eyes slowly blinked open. His chest heaved with a breath as he stretched out, hearing the shifting sounds of each metal cuff against his wrists. The clinking of the heavy metal chains that connected him to the wall only woke him up further, forcing him to snap awake much quicker than he would've wished.

A low growl escaped his chest as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting around him, and he heaved a sigh and slouched over again, head shaking; this would be just like every other day, he figured- wake up and entertain himself in some way before going back to sleep. His daily routine while holed up here his whole life, right?

He was used to it either way. After all, he figured that this would continue for the rest of his life. Boring monotony. The very thought made his mind cloud over with a saddened, lonely fog that usually hung over him- looming like a shadow, overcasting any good thoughts. He would die this way, for certain.

With each thought that entered his mind, his eyes began to close as he focused on each one by one; falling into a rather mindless state, forgetting where he was and his very circumstances- falling into a restless nightmare. The only comfort brought to him during this all was a singular torch in the room, and as he slowly closed his eyes, he watched as the flame flickered to a familiar, comforting blue hue. It's flames danced about, chaotic yet controlled. It brought a small hopeful smile to the boys face.