Plain Sight

chapter forty-three

Tom
___

October 18, 2010 — that was the day a part of me died. The day I lost the only true love I've ever had. And the day I had to watch the love of my life leave me, resenting me.

So many lies left my lips, filthy lies that I will never forgive myself for saying. How could a good person just say such evil things to the person they love like that? They can't. A good person wouldn't do that.

I am not a good person.

That's why I know I deserve this.

Slashes, whips, knives, ropes, chains, blood, pain. I've become quite accompanied to these things over the last several hours.

Every part of my body aches, and my wrists bleed from the suspension of being held up from the roof. My arms are above my head, tied up one by one to ropes attached to the ceiling.

My body hangs down like I'm an object, waiting for the next person to come in to torture me.

one

two

three

four whips come from a whip held by one of Lucian's followers. Both Lucian, and his un-named follower take turns hitting me. They take turns whipping me with the whip, or slashing me with a blade, or punching me in the same place until it's bruised.

The whip stings my back and my chest, over and over again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

With each slash across my chest, it burns a little less. It becomes numb, until I can't feel anything.

"Alright, he's had enough. Take a break for now, then we will resume momentarily." Lucian says, clasping his hands together, looking at me like an animal. He takes a step forward, to examine the marks they are leaving on me, and then throws his whip on the floor.

Oh, he's loving this.

Old fucking grandpa. I should've just taken him down when I had the chance, but that would ruin the plan I had set in place.

My breathing is hoarse, my mouth is just filled with blood. It tastes like bitter metal.

I tilt my head up slowly, "Have I?" I spit the blood out of my mouth onto his freshly white shirt.

"You know...." I sigh. "You're getting soft in your old age, Lancaster. So please, hit me again. This is about the only cardio you get at your senior age. Come on, hit me again." I taunt, smiling showing the blood in my teeth, but this time, I spit the blood in his face.

He stumbles back, his face is just full of pure rage. He's furious. He picks up the whip, gripping it so tight until his knuckles are white, and then he hits me so hard, that there's a giant red gash across my abdomen.

I wince so slightly at the pain, and then he leaves the room, and the man beside him follows and closes the door loudly behind them.