Revenge Is Sweet

3 - Agathokakological

𑁍𝚂𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚊𑁍

Prying my eyes open, my eyebrows pinch together in a cringe. I can't seem to manage to keep my eyes open for long, they shut the moment I manage to open them just a little.

I can't tell if it's because I'm still too tired, or if it's because of the lights that are much too bright in this room.

They send stabbing pains through my head, making me frown and toss my head back to where I assume is the ceiling.

"Oh, you're awake."

My nose scrunches at the unfamiliar voice. It only adds to my pounding headache. I slowly open my eyes again, squinting as I scan my surroundings.

The darkness takes up most of the cold room. Cement walls surround me, somehow threatening me with its ice cold surface. "What the fuck?" I whisper, trying to make sense of where I am.

"Huh. You don't strike me as the cursing type." The voice speaks again in a thoughtful tone, almost teasing.

Slowly, I turn my attention to the owner of the voice. My eyes widen, more awake than ever as I look ahead and at a man.

A man who sits just a few feet in front of me, a Jason mask over his face. He twirls a knife around in his hand as he watches me, poking the tip of it on the top of his pointer finger.

Frantically, I look around, looking down and to the side as I realize I'm in a chair. Tied to it to be more specific. With wide eyes, I look back at the man who calmly sits in front of me.

I scream and start to uselessly struggle like I'm in a classic horror film. The stupid victim screams and squirms but to no avail. She's already captured.

The man doesn't seem to be fazed. He sits calmly in his chair, manspreading and tilting his head slightly as he watches me struggle like he's bored.

"I'd stop screaming if I were you." He hums, casual. "You'll hurt your head." He adds, tapping the top of his Jason mask with the knife still in his hand.

My scream turns into a little pathetic whimper as I realize he's right. My head pounds, sharp and unbearable. It brings tears to my eyes but I don't let them fall.

"Where the fuck am I?" I spit, harsh. I suppose I shouldn't be so harsh to the man who will most likely kill me if I glance at him wrong.

His body language is stays calm and casual. "Cellar under the cabin you were in." He informs me. "You do remember you were at a cabin, yes?"

I pause before slowly nodding. "Yes.."

"Great. My prisoner isn't brain dead." He sounds sarcastic. He's joking. He's fucking joking right now.

I stare at him, thinking of millions of different ways I could kill him if I weren't tied to a chair. Instead, I decide to keep asking questions I need answers to.

"What happened?" I mumble. Last thing I remember doing was running. I was running from him.

The man shrugs. "Not sure, in all honesty." He admits. "You ran from me and suddenly passed out." He informs. "Why'd you run from me, sweetheart?" He softly asks, sarcastic frown audible in his voice.

I scoff in response to the nerve of this guy. "What are you? Some sort of serial killer or something?" I question.

He doesn't answer me.

"Why not just kill me?" I go on with my questions. "Aren't you one of those sad serial killers who has a small dick so you kill for a release?" I ask him a blunt and harsh question.