Losing my Mind

Chapter 31: Harris

Stiles let out a blood curling scream as Harris grabbed a scissors and dragged it roughly down his already damaged back, Harris had ripped his shirt off a while ago to view his 'masterpiece' as he had named these demented acts.

" Stop.. please" Stiles begged, pleaded.

" Begging? Really? Haven't you learned anything? " Harris laughed maliciously before kicking him repeatedly in the stomach.

Stiles groaned out in pain before Harris crouched down and grabbed his hair, pulling it painfully to lift his head to look him in the face.

" Too bad I can't kill you, but it would be a pleasure" Harris smiled malevolently as he let out an evil cackle.

" S-screw..you" Stiles said between heavy breaths.

Harris cocked his head to the side, an awfully broad smile on his face that seemed to gleam with malice and a strange insanity.

" I'd love you to but unfortunately it's not my style" Harris chuckled in a creepy way.

" Thank god " Stiles mumbled as he let out a sigh of relief.

Harris frowned and rose from his position in front of Stiles.

He looked around the room and silently walked over to his desk, opening it.

"W-what are you doing?" Stiles asked in fear with no answer to follow.

After Harris searched for a minute, he found what he was looking for and picked it up as if it were the most precious item in the world.

Immediately Stiles' heart dropped, all the colour drained from his already sickly pale face and his hands shook violently.

Harris wiggled it around before slipping it almost seductively over his hand.

'I'm dead' Stiles thought as he stared at the sleek, shiny metal knucklebuster, an object that could easily, with enough force, break bones.

Stiles maneuvered himself closer to the wall and pushed himself hard up against it.

"No-... " Stiles stopped himself, he had to take the 'punishment' before he could leave and hope to see another day.

Harris slowly stalked over to Stiles, a kind of sinister smile plastered to his face, which made him look as though he should be admitted to Eichen House on account of insanity.

Stiles shuddered at the thought of anyone being in there. It was a horrible place.

Harris stood in front of him and quickly pulled Stiles to his feet with an unknown and unnatural force.

He raised his weaponized fist and before Stiles could even comprehend what was about to happen, he got a blow to the face. Blood splattered on the wall forming perfectly beautiful drops that looked as though it were an odd relative of rain and that was when the pain hit, Stiles felt it erupt throughout his battered face, colours and swirls of light floated throughout his vision, the small stars being a constant reminder in the dark overtones.

More blows now rained down on his abdomen and he could feel his already bruised ribs rattle with the force, and his stitches splitting open, still he held his ground and took whatever more pain he had to indure before finally Harris whispered viciously for him to 'leave at once'.

Stiles took this as an 'or else' situation and ran, well, more like hobbled.

He walked out the doors and was immediately hit with fresh, icy cold air, it hurt against his freshly beaten frame as if a million tiny birds were crashing ind embedding their sharp beaks into his grossly discoloured skin.