His sinful Obsession

Monster

In the dark room swinging a light bulb casting a faint yellow glow across the concrete floor. There's sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, wrists and ankles tied so tightly the ropes cut into his skin. He was trembling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Sweat dripped from his brow, mixing with the blood already streaking his face from where Nicolas had struck him earlier. 

Rafael stood in front of him, calm, collected, savoring the moment. In his hand, he held a thin, gleaming blade—a short, sharp instrument of precision, not just for killing, but for pain.
"You know Sergei why you're here,"
Rafael said softly, his voice almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of authority, the cold promise of what was to come. He stepped closer, crouching so his face was level with Sergei.

 "How can I bid you goodbye without giving you a chance to say how much grateful you are to me," he lowers his voice an octave more "to be this much merciful to you"

Rafael was playing with the blade. It slid free from its sheath with barely a whisper. A sliver of steel, sharp and unyielding, glinted faintly in the dim light, Sergei darted around, desperate, wild, but there was no escape. No one was coming to save him even though there were dozens of people standing around him, Nicolas was standing beside Rafael. 

Sergei looked at Nicolas, he shared most of the time with Nicolas. He thought at least Nicolas would show him mercy. His lips quivered as he tried to speak, but fear had stolen his voice. Instead, a small whimper escaped him, barely audible.
In one fluid motion, Rafael raised the blade and brought it down. It pierced flesh with ease, sliding between ribs with a sickening, wet sound. Sergei gasped, his body convulsing. Another wound was added on his already wounded body. 

The scent of blood filled the air, thick and iron-rich. It pooled beneath his shirt. His breathing turned to ragged, shallow gasps. His eyes were pleading, terrified, looking at everyone but Him. The devil, the monster who knows nothing about mercy. He said about giving a chance? What a mockery!

 Rafael never gives a second chance. Rafael smirked, amused by Sergei's pathetic display of fear.
 "Oh, don't worry," he said, his tone light, almost playful. "We're going to take our time with this. I want you to understand every second of what's about to happen. The way you planned every second of my destruction with that pathetic fu*ker. You know me right? I don't like to be in debt. I would settle our score"

He stood, pacing slowly around the chair, the blade twirling lazily between his fingers. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the small room, a steady, menacing rhythm that only heightened the tension. He came closer and complete his sentence,
"Before you gone forever"

Sergei flinched every time Rafael passed behind him, unable to see, only able to feel the cold presence at his back. Rafael stopped suddenly, his free hand resting on Sergei's shoulder in a mockery of comfort. Then, without warning, the blade flashed.
Sergei screamed as the blade sliced through his cheek, a shallow but deliberate cut, just deep enough to make him bleed, just enough to make him scream again.

"That," Rafael said softly, wiping the blood from the blade with a small cloth that Nicolas handed him,
"is for thinking me a fool like I couldn't anticipate what you were planning behind my back."
Sergei sobbed, the sound pitiful, broken. He was mumbling now, pleading, words slurred through the pain and fear.
 "Please... I didn't mean to—"
Rafael didn't let him finish. Another quick slash, this time across Sergei's forearm, drawing a jagged line of red, making him convulsed, crying out as the pain shot through him, tears streaming down his face. 

Rafael watched him with a calm, clinical detachment, as if observing an experiment in suffering. Everyone thought Rafael was a cold blooded murder, that he was, but how could he be so calm while torturing someone like that?