Fear

11 • Act 2

I found him standing before me once again, but he seemed different, back to his emotionless, threatening self. No longer the nice guy he became for a second in my room the other day. I glared up at him.

"There's a little rumor going around... that I'm turning soft for you, Emily."

Once again, my arms were strapped to the table in front of me, and my legs were strapped to the chair legs. This time my mouth was also taped so I couldn't talk back to him.

He slowly walked closer to me, placing both hands down on the table and lowering his head to look into my eyes as he said, lowly, "Don't let it get to your head. You're not special."

He stuck his tongue in his cheek and glared at me in frustration as he stood up. He began to pace again. After a long silence, my attention was drawn to him again when he chuckled.

"Isabel called," he teased.

My eyes widened at the mention of my best friend's name. Panic surged through me. I tried to shout, but the tape muffled my cries, rendering me silent.

Tyler watched my reaction with satisfaction, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Oh, don't worry," he said mockingly, "She's fine... for now."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "But if you don't behave, that could change very quickly. Understand?"

I nodded frantically, tears welling up in my eyes. The thought of Isabel in danger was unbearable. Tyler seemed pleased with my response and stood up straight again, resuming his pacing.

"You see, Emily," he continued, "I have my ways of getting what I want. And I always get what I want."

He stopped and turned to face me, his eyes boring into mine. "Now, let's continue our little session, shall we?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, glinting object. It was a scalpel, its blade catching the light ominously.

My heart pounded in my chest as he approached me, the scalpel gleaming in his hand. He reached out and gently traced the blade along my cheek, just enough to make me flinch but not enough to cut. He was savouring my fear. My heart felt like it might come up through my mouth.

"Remember what I said last time, Emily?" he murmured. "Act One was just the beginning. Now, we're moving on to Act Two. And it's going to be much more... intense."

He moved the scalpel down to my arm, and I tensed, bracing for the pain I expected. But instead of cutting, he simply let the blade rest against my skin, the cold metal sending shivers through me.

"Tell me, Emily," he tormented, "Are you afraid?"

I nodded, unable to lie. The fear was overwhelming, consuming me from the inside out.

"Good," he said, his voice almost gentle. "Fear is a powerful tool," he came behind me and whispered low into my ear, "It's what keeps you alive."

He pressed the scalpel a little harder against my skin, and I winced, a small whimper escaping despite the tape over my mouth. He laughed quietly, enjoying my discomfort.

His voice grew colder.
"You're mine. Your fear, your pain, everything. And as long as you understand that, you will remain safe. But if you step out of line..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence. The threat was clear.

Tyler finally stepped back, but instead of giving me any respite, he moved behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. His touch was light but menacing. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear, and inhaled deeply, making my skin crawl.

"Have you ever heard of desensitisation?" he whispered.
I nodded, my mind wandering to what I'd learned in school. 'Like they do with dogs,' I thought.

"That's what I do, that's how I cure people," he continued, his hands tightening slightly on my shoulders. "I expose them to their fears until they're no longer afraid. Until they're stronger. Until they're better."

He moved his hands to my neck, his thumbs brushing the pulse points just below my jaw. I could feel my heartbeat quicken under his touch.

"And I'm going to use it to reshape you," he murmured, his lips almost grazing my ear.

He let go of my neck and walked back to the front of the table, picking up the scalpel once more. This time, he didn't hesitate. He brought the blade to my arm and slashed it with a swift, precise movement. I gasped, the pain sharp and immediate. Blood welled up from the wound, and I bit down on the tape over my mouth, trying not to cry out.

"See? The first cut is always the hardest," he said, watching the blood flow. "But the more you experience it, the less it will hurt. Soon, it will become second nature to you."

He made another cut, this one slightly deeper. The cold metal glided through my flesh like butter. I clenched my teeth against the pain, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out, but I writhed in pain and shut my eyes tightly.

"Good girl," he said approvingly. "You're learning."

He continued to watch my reaction. I grit my teeth and eventually glared up at him, breathing heavily through my nose, leaning over the table in pain, my fists clenched.

Finally, he set the scalpel down and moved back to stand behind me. His hands found their place on my shoulders once more, squeezing them in a mockery of comfort.

"You're doing well, Emily," he said softly. "But we still have a long way to go."

He leaned in close again, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke. "Remember, the more you resist, the harder it will be. Embrace the pain. Let it become a part of you."

I felt tears sting my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Tyler straightened up and looked at me, a cold, calculating smile on his face.

He was sick. Twisted. Evil. He left me there, bleeding out, losing my sanity.

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