The Netherworlds: Curse of Fate (Book 1)

Turn a blind eye...

**Trigger Warning: horror/gore

Our hero's mind was focused. He concentrated only on the rising heat of anger in his chest. They had been so close, damnit! So fucking close. He hated how much he had let himself hope and dream of pointless freedom. And now his friend, possibly the only one he'd ever had, was dead, and that was his fault. And he was back in fucking Tartarus. He scowled at his bound hands above him, eyes burning ire into the chains, almost as if trying to will himself free. He could feel the Darkness watching him. It didn't say a word, almost as if weary of his quiet rage.

He worked his fingers and his toes, trying to relieve the tingling numbness. The numbness and the Darkness were threatening to envelope him and pull him back into helpless misery, but he wouldn't let it. Not this time.

Fuck the Darkness.

And the numbness.

Fuck. This. Entire. Place.

Then a bright light blinded the corners of his eyes, slicing through the Darkness, and he welcomed it. The demons left the door open, as always, to illuminate their way to the hanging corpse.

"You're back," said the demon with the voice of smoke and whiskey. "It's been a while. You were away the last few times we dropped by. It's good to see you."

The demon looked up to see that our hero's eyes were latched onto him. Our hero's breath was steady and calm.

The demon made a pensive face, taken aback by this audacity, "You want us to stay or- "

"Stay." Our hero didn't hesitate. He was sure. He wanted the pain.

The demon stood in front of him and looked him over, studying the determined wrath simmering deep in the blackness of the prisoner's eyes.

Our hero looked back. His defiant gaze never wavered.

"Hm," the demon broke eye contact first, sucking on the insides of his cheeks. He licked his teeth and looked back, "That's good that you can look at me like that... That's real good... Hey, dipstick..."

The bent and crooked one peered up with a savage smile.

"Hand me the lid speculum, would you?"

"Hee-hee ho-ha! Didn't see this coming..."

"Quiet." The demon's gruff voice was stern, but not angry.

The little metal speculum looked like a strange, wiry eyelash curler. He held it up for our hero to see. "Now, you make it through this without making a sound... I'll let you off the hook." His eyes glanced up the chains, and centered back onto our hero. The demon's chin was raised, his eyes were narrow, but calm, seeking understanding. "Got it?"

"Do it."

"Good. Let's get started then." He flexed the speculum in front of our hero's face before placing his other hand over the hero's brow, his thumb on his lower eyelid. He shifted his thumb down until our hero's bloodshot eye was exposed and bulging. The demon put the speculum carefully on our hero's eyelids, and our hero's heart went from hammering to explosive as he felt the spring tension pulling apart his lids, keeping them from blinking. His eye was watering and drying out from the exposure.

"Hand me the Wescott scissors, the tiny scissors."

The laughing demon handed him the scissors. He sang, "There was an old man in Thessaly, and he was wonderous wise. He jumped into a thornbush, and scratched out both his eyes. Hee-hee-heh! Ha!"

The gruff demon brought the scissors up to his eye.

The laughing demon continued his song, "And when he saw his eyes were out, he danced with might and main..."

Our hero felt the pressure of the sharp, cold metal in a place only the random stray eyelash had ventured before.

"Then he jumped into another bush..."

Our hero felt and heard the first snip and strangled the scream that nearly belted from his chest. Warm liquid streamed down his face, and his body began to tremble.

"...And scratched them in again," the bent demon sang.

The gruff demon said, "Good. Four more cuts to make... on this eye."

Our hero's vision faded in and out until the last snip. Then there was only static.

Through his good eye, he saw a small metal scoop come towards the minced socket. The demon forced the scoop in, making squishing watery sounds as he went, and the pressure built up until there was a final pop.

With one hand holding the instrument and the other holding the back of our hero's neck, the demon didn't bother to catch it as the lumpy, slimy ball of tissue plopped onto the floor.

"There's one." The demon scooted it out of his workspace with the toe of his boot, lest he step on it. "One more."

"He-he-he-he ha! He-he-he! Ho!"

"How you holdin' up, kid? I'm going to remove the speculum. Don't scream." His voice was almost kind. He removed the speculum and the lids had nothing to close around.

Our hero threw his head around, trying to shake off the pain and the emptiness.

"Hey. Hey." The demon grabbed his face and pulled it center. Our hero's jaw chattered in agony within the demon's hand. "One more. Just one more." He patted our hero's cheek, grabbed the back of his neck, and brought the speculum to his right eye.

Our hero began to struggle, and the demon held him tighter.

I can't watch this anymore... said the Darkness.

"Then leave," the gruff demon said. "Turn a blind eye..."

The bent and crooked demon laughed and laughed at the joke, and the gruff demon gave three sharp, but silent, chuckles of his own.

"Just one more," the demon said, "and then it's all over. You understand?" He shook our hero to get his attention. "You understand?"

Our hero nodded feverishly.

"Okay. Don't make a sound. I want to get you off the hook, you understand? I want to help you. Not a peep."

He pried apart our hero's lids with the speculum.