Buried

CHAPTER 9 | age is but a number

📎A/N. Hello my lovelies. I managed to catch up on some reading this week and I have decided that while I may not have as many reads as many of the other stories on Wattpad, I certainly think I have the best set of readers that anyone could wish for. You have all been so very supportive of both Buried and Masked that it is quite humbling.

Anyway, enough of how wonderful you all are ;-) This chapter is a bit longish... I was going to separate into two, but decided against it.

Don't forget to show your support by voting. And comments are always appreciated.

Have a wonderful day...

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"Where is it?" Elijah grated out through clenched teeth, his voice harsh and demanding.

"I've already told you - I don't know," came the broken response between raggered breaths.

The victim seeing his assailant taking a step forward struggled against the restraints in a valiant attempt to free himself.

The thick plastic cable ties securing Eric 'Moe' Weiss arms above his head cut deeper into his skin, drawing blood and adding further to the pain that he had been subjected to over the past four hours.

Moe began screaming as another vertical slice was made into his chest. 

Elijah's mouth split into a sadistic grin as he watched his victim's skin separate leaving raw tissue and sinew exposed as the razor-sharp knife continued its path downwards. Blood seeped from the open wound and followed gently behind the metallic blade.

I am a true artist.

Elijah circled his prey admiring his handy-work. The lacerations even and uniform on both front and back. The slashes deep enough to allow sufficient loss of blood; shallow enough to allow him to extend the torment of his new play thing for as long as he so wished.

Moe recoiled as Elijah stepped towards him again. He was unable to bring himself to look at the madman for fear of angering the man any further and prolong the torture.

"Who did he leave in charge?" This time Elijah did not wait for an answer before he sliced again.

A blood curdling scream was violently torn from Moe's throat as the knife cut deeper into an existing wound. His body, now unable to take much more before giving into the pain. Unable to hold up his head any longer, his chin dropped to his chest in defeat, the loss of blood now leaving him dizzy and weak he murmured an inaudible plea for mercy.

"Who did he leave in charge," Elijah's voice now cold with a hint of true madness.

This time, the knife was brought to Moe's face. Panic welled inside of the bound man. "No! No, please don't. I don't know."

Elijah continued to taunt his prey, the sharp edge of the knife brought dangerously close to his eye. "Who did he leave in charge."

"No one knows," the battered and bloody man sobbed, "there was a complete shake up. We only know who we report to. I swear."

His eyes widening in fear as the knife continued to dance and weave across his skin. Glancing at his tormentor Moe cringed, the face glaring back at him is contorted into a look that could only be described as deranged and evil.

Moe had been around cold blooded killers. In his business it had been hard to avoid. However, none of them came close to the maniacal psychopathic man who had abducted him just a few short hours ago.