🩸Identities in shambles 💻🔏 KIMCHAY AU🩸

2. Someone save me 🚨

Porchay opens his heavy eyes with the most foggy brain he ever felt. The first thing that he feels is the untouchable state of his body. He has the sensation that he doesn't have a body or that he isn't connected to it. It is too sensitive and at the same time totally paralysed.

He raises his head and there, huge pains are spread on his face, on his chest and his hand. He breathes rapidly, he remembers where he is and his lungs are beginning to shock from fear.

This man is here. He is looking at him with a wicked smile. Porchay can't talk, can't even try to move.

He is facing death again. His unconsciousness is always putting to sleep the view of the reaper but the moment he is aware of his condition, his soul is falling into the darkest corridors, impatient to die. Impatient to not suffer.

He doesn't even get why his body is hurting so much. His brain is lagging and with it any hope of staying alive.

"Chay...Chay...Chay...it isn't funny...it isn't funny at all. If you just sleep like this, I can't have fun..." He stands up from his chair. "I have to say that meeting you made me feel good...really good. You are a good boy, you have a good soul. It makes me remember that some people are really different...but in the end it's me against the world. You might be cute but I can't let you go away without any clues...I already gave some...I might do more, I have no idea, I don't plan my torture like I don't plan my aus, but you know about this already." He laughs lightly, while walking from one side to another. "I waited for too much time...I waited SO MUCH time for him to find me but he is so slow...I am just desperate you understand? If you ever stay alive, think well that this is all about him and not about you...it isn't that I want to save you, it is just that you need to breathe for him to finally find me. You aren't special. You're not lucky...or you might be ? I guess you are...but you're just a doll, an object...I need to play with for the game to begin...you're only this..."

Porchay hears without reacting. He is lost. He seems to not be present even if he can hear it all. He isn't aware that those words are slowly taking their seat on his mind and poisoning his blood. Letting go now mentally seems better than anything else. He won't be more than an empty shell for some time and the places where he hurt are becoming numb.

"You don't even say anything." The man walks towards Porchay and kneels in front of him, the knife being tightly grabbed by his hand. "Did I already break you?" He tilts his head and pouts. "Is the emotion of being betrayed unbelievable ? Is it hurting you to death before I can even kill you? You always had been too sentimental...but I always liked this about you, you know. Empathy is the better meal, you're sure to get them every time. Those people are too...too stupid, some would say, too dreamy, some other would add, a perfect victim! I will conclude."

He stands up and sighs. "Well, you're even too much. I broke you...toy is broken...I would have loved you to cry, to scream, to beg and I would have played a little knowing that I would let you live but not tell you. Your silence isn't funny at all..."

Porchay isn't sure about this. Silence. It's so loud in his head. It screams death. He can't believe that this man thinks that there is some silence around.

"Ohh...faster than I thought...well..." He says, coming closer to Porchay again. He kisses his forehead softly before raising his head and wiping some blood with his thumbs from his cheek. "You might be my greatest masterpiece."

He walks away, away and away. Porchay doesn't understand what just happened. Anxiety is slowly taking his breath away. Terrified at the idea that he could come back.

He might come back and kill himself on the spot. He might never come back and just die here from everything a human can die from, hunger, thirst, or his blood just falling from his body and becoming a new river, a small lake, where everything of his life would have been drown by the dryness of its liquid.