Spider-Man | Doesn't Need Help

CHAPTER 8

I didn't cry.

I didn't even let out a single groan of pain.

I just knelt there, looking at the dirty floor. Only every now and then my body would move slightly on its own due to the impact.

It hurt like hell, if I had screamed, I would probably have screamed as if they were tearing my skin off, which was almost true at that moment. And yet I didn't, I don't know how I managed.

I'd never felt him so big. I was barely holding on with my shaking hands.

That damn psychopath stood there and for about an hour, in my opinion, had been hitting my back like that, the state of which I didn't even want to see.

"Enough of that." I heard at some point, barely in touch with reality. Although I should have fainted a long time ago from the really large amount of blood loss, I still didn't. "I think you've almost redeemed yourself." He added with emphasis on the word "Almost"

I didn't even think about what exactly he meant. He was punishing me for nothing at the moment, I had done literally nothing in the past week.

But he finally stopped.

In my mind, I could finally breathe.

I didn't get up, but through my hearing, which was truly incredible, I heard him unzip his pants pocket and then pull something metal out of it. I immediately guessed it was a knife.

I prayed to God, who didn't exist for me, to at least leave my back alone.

"Against the wall." He grabbed me by the remains of my T-shirt, which had stuck to my dirty body due to blood and sweat, to throw it against the wall like some rag.

I groaned inaudibly when I came into contact with it.

Not wanting to annoy him any more, I sat up as straight as possible and watched. I watched as the psychopath took a small stool and then sat down on it right in front of me.

"Give me your hand, Petey." He ordered, and I dutifully did as he was told.

He immediately grabbed it and then put the knife he had sharpened earlier on it.

I closed my eyes, after a moment, feeling my skin starting to be cut again. The pain was even worse than usual, because my old cuts hadn't healed yet, although they had healed more than they normally should have.

Mr. Adams made his usual lines, always going upwards. When he reached my shoulder, he abandoned my right hand, which immediately fell limp. I opened my eyes, seeing it covered in blood. It used to impress me, but now, it was normal.

Without waiting for anything, he moved on to his left hand, maintaining the same tactics the whole time. Finally, he moved to his legs, then his stomach, his thighs, his chest. He cut everywhere except my face and today my back.

He showed me the mercy I hated so much.

I was slowly starting to drift away. After all, I had lost a lot of blood, and now I was just waiting for this moment.

But that moment had not come yet, and, as you can see, Edward was not finished with me yet.

I sat with my eyes closed, but I heard him walk away, on the way he probably grabbed a bucket of some kind, and then poured some water into it, which he would most likely want to splash me with.

A moment later he was standing in front of me. He swung, and all the bloody hot water poured out on me.

I couldn't do it, I couldn't. It was too much, even for me.