The Reader's Request Book [REQUESTS CLOSED]

A Better End - Part 1 of 3

The damp wooden floorboards that formed the foundation of the holiday lodge's balcony creaked and groaned as the pink-haired man's face slammed into their surfaces. With such force behind the collision, the Englishman's eardrums felt as though they were about to split thanks to the shrill, high-pitched ringing that shot through his head. Stunned, Baz's already unfocused vision repetitively pulsed darker in correspondence to each and every beat of his hammering heart, now providing him with yet another reminder of how dire his situation had become.

With a low groan, the pink-haired man struggled to pull his arms from beneath him as he began the seemingly impossible task of pushing himself up from the ground. A swift and solid strike to the back of the skull quickly brought an end to the struggle. Plastic shards exploded from the main seat of the garden chair as it collided with Baz, the makeshift bludgeoner fracturing under the strength of the one wielding it. The cry that desperately attempted to erupt from the Englishman's throat was silenced by a pained wheeze as his attacker's foot kicked the side of Baz's body, forcing him to roll onto his back where he was quickly pinned down.

Then, came the merciless beating.

With a beaming grin of sadistic pleasure that spread from ear to ear, the twisted face of Baz's youngest friend glowered down at him. The mask of chilling malice which had plastered itself over Lewis' features made the young man resemble a mere shadow of who he once was, the emotions present in his appearance foreign to his usual demeanour. In fact, during the brief moments in between the ferocious strikes hammering into his head, Baz caught glimpses of the corrupted man's pale lilac, almost fully white, eyes - yet another feature that made him even more of a stranger.

Although the unnatural appearance made the eyes appear to belong to a corpse, they were somehow filled with such energy and emotion, none of which were positive. Excitement shone through Lewis' gaze as he relentlessly pummelled the older Englishman, never tiring, never hesitating, nor ever regretting any hit. He refused to stop until the pink-haired man began to choke, gargling on the blood trickling down his throat from his broken jaw, shattered nose, and dislodged teeth. Giggling childishly at both the sound and sight, Lewis stood up from his bruised and bloodied victim, vision locking onto the silver shimmer of a familiar tool of his, which had been dropped only a few paces away.

Baz hardly heard his younger friend walking due to the sound of his own pained groans. He only began to pay attention when the footsteps reapproached, paired with ominous and eager laughter. A cold hand, slick with partially congealing blood, gripped into the Englishman's dyed hair. Violently yanking his head from the floorboards, Lewis pulled Baz upwards so that he was partially raised from the ground. To prevent the older man from kicking out, the white-eyed monster stamped down on Baz's left knee, having previously dislocated the right in an earlier fight. With a shocked cry of pain, Baz instinctually reached up and gripped onto the hand clamped to his head, attempting to pull himself free. Within an instant, the younger man's laughter fell silent, as a razor-sharp slither of cold steel pressed against Baz's exposed throat.

"Move and I'll end it now," Lewis hissed, venom dripping from each word. The smirk he wore was somewhat challenging, as though he was willing Baz to give him an excuse to run the blade through his flesh. With the sudden pressure over his neck, the pink-haired man swallowed back his sobs in an attempt to comply with the instruction. Every slight flinch or tremor from his shaking form sent tidal waves of fear cascading through his mind, the motion causing the eager edge of the deadly knife to dig a little further into his skin.

Baz's right eye had rapidly become swollen after the beating, while his left was clouded with a red sheen from where blood had gushed out of a split in his forehead. In this state, he was hardly able to see the younger man's figure but could still sense the predatory like stare glaring into his eyes.