Living with dying

VICIOUS

Kept awake by the cold tile under my feet I wonder if I'm going to escape this time.
It's roughly been two days, no food, no water....I think Archreon is planning on starving me to death or letting dehydration kill me, as much as I don't want to die, I'd rather have that, then have him kill me himself.

A tear escapes as I think of the possibility that I might never see my parents and friends again. Life hasn't exactly been easy....I mean who has it been easy on?
We all go through difficulties, some we keep to ourselves in order to obtain an image of being strong, but what's the point of all that if in actuality, we are dying inside.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when the door opens.
"Hey, I was thinking..." He trails off as he moves closer.
He kneels down beside me and tucks the hair hiding my face away from him behind my ear.
"I'm bored, and since you're here....I mean, why not?" Sniffling and pushing back sobs, I shake my head slowly, my eyes begging him to have mercy.

He pulls out a knife from his left boot and smirks like the devil himself.
"Archreon please, I'm begging you..."
He doesn't respond but stands up and travels behind me.
"You know, I could sell you to the highest bidder - I'll be rich - but I wouldn't get to have fun with you. What do you think I should do?" He says bending over and burying his face into my neck...desperately breathing in my scent.

"Please let me go, I promise no police will come after you" He punches me and the metallic taste of blood dominates my mouth.
"You're not going anywhere, how could you even think of that?" He says holding my head back by my neck.
"Red is my favourite colour, you want to know why?" He lifts the knife and the cold metal contacts my not so bruised cheek.

I scream as he makes a deep cut, blood oozing out of my skin.
"You and I are alike" he voices letting go of my neck and travelling back infront of me.
"Like...I relate to you".
Arching a brow I spit on his face, "I don't relate to you, I'd never treat me this shitty you fucking maniac. Your mother should be embarrassed, she raised a...."

I am cut off as a sharp pain emits from my thigh and I scream my lungs out.
"DO NOT talk about my mother you little bitch" he says pushing the knife further into my thigh.
I didn't even say anything!!!
He pulls the knife out and I scream again.
As he's about to leave, he stands there holding the door knob as if reconsidering leaving.
He turns around with a murderous look on his face.

"Let's give you a makeover angel"

He finally stops brutally torturing me after two horrible hours, I'm too weak to even murmur a single word, the tears flowing down my face burning each wound they come into contact with.
I'd finally managed to pick myself up and carry on with life, then this?
When does it end....does it even end?

I drift off as my eyes shut themselves closed and my head hangs....unable to control any part of my body.