Torture House: Story of a Survivor

Chapter One

Chapter One~

Twenty five years ago, an old woman walked along an abandoned dirt road. On either side of her, were hundreds and thousands of trees. The woman would stop at a tree every so often, knock on it's trunk, and move on.  

After about three days of walking and knocking, she found the perfect tree. 

The healthiest, most beautiful tree she'd ever seen; with a thick trunk, and gorgeous green leaves. She marked it with her scarf; a bloodred rag, that fluttered in the wind. She smiled at the tree, and continued to walk down the road.

A week later, the rumbling of large machinery echoed down the deserted road, coming to a stop just infront of the marked tree. The woman was among the burly men who'd come with the construction vehicles. She stepped out of a truck, hobbled over to the tree, took her scarf, and began to laugh. 

It began as a quiet chuckle, morphed into a loud bellow, and evolved into a skin-prickling shriek of laughter.  

The workers shrugged, started up their vehicles, and killed the beautiful tree. 

Many would say that was the woman's first victim; but all would agree it wouldn't be her last. 

~Fifteen Years Later~ 

The old woman lived miles away from civilization. She lived deep in the woods along that dirt road; her small winding path of a driveway starting where that tree's live ended, so many years ago. 

The woman isn't alone though; she has a daughter. 

Whether she carried the child, doesn't matter.  

Our focus, is the daughter. 

She was beautiful; raven black hair, with large, sharp eyes. Her smile was crooked, due to an old scar, that was fading away as the years past. She wore a simple black dress, with a rope braclet; woven in the bracelet, were small, white decorations, that resembled shells. She bounded through the gardens each day, singing to her mother that sat upon the old porch; attatched to the house the woman had built fifteen years ago. The daughter sang of the things she loved; the flowers, the sunshine, the birds and the bunnies.  

Each day she would complete this ritual in the same fashion. But one day, something changed. 

Thr girl didn't sing for her mother, but instead carried a small parcel up to the porch. She lay it at her mother's feet, and sat back smiling.  

The old woman opened the package, and inside were two baby birds, squacking for their momma.  

The girl began to hum an eerie tune as she stroked their soft feathers.  

The only words the girl sang that day were; 

"I do not like the birds, that sing out of tune."  

And taking a rock, and raising the rock above her head, the girl smiled, and brought the rock down hard, upon the innocent animal's heads.  

To her, they weren't perfect. To her, the were incomplete, and shouldn't be in the world. So, like her mother, she disposed of them. Later that day, she dug a hole by her tulips, and buried the mashed corpses of the small birds.

~Ten Years Later~

The abandoned road, was no longer abandoned. Buisnesses had bought the land surrounding the old woman's house, and developed communities full of young children. The girl was twenty five by this point, still flouncing around singing to her mother. She'd stare at the children some days, humming her happy song. But whenever a child fell and scraped his knee, or lost a tooth and was left with a gaping hole; anything that wasn't of perfection, the girl's song changed to the eerie tune once more. 

The old woman knew her daughter wanted to be disposing of the imperfections greatly, but she also knew her daughter was too inexperienced, and would be captured and killed herself. So the older woman locked her up, deep in the basement.  

She taught her to be stealthy, and she taught her how to drag out the suffering of the victim. The woman brought countless animals down for the girl to practice on, but she just couldn't get it right. She enjoyed smashing and bashing; none of the slow slices her mother was teaching her. 

One evening, the old woman walked to the basement to speak to her daughter. When she arrived, she found the door open, and her darling daughter gone.  

Panicked, the woman ran to the small window, and peered out, hoping to see her daughter flouncing about outside. 

The door slammed behind her. She spun around quickly, and was startled at what she saw. 

Her daughter was standing and grinning at her mom, jingling the keys from one of her fingers. The woman smiled, and congratulated the girl. She went as far as embracing her daughter; her first mistake.  

There was a sharp jab, followed by six more.  

The daughter slicing her mother's neck and back with the keys.  

The woman fell slowly to the ground. The girl sliced the woman's cheeks, her arms, legs, neck and chest more and more. She drove the key into some of the gashes, sending the woman into fits of pained laughter. The laughter made the daughter become sort of eroused; excited. She started working faster, hurting her mother, and being rewarded with the cries of pain, followed by giggles. She leaned down to her mother; 

" I have done it perfectly, Mother." 

"I've created a monster; an almost perfect monster. You must learn to-" the woman tried to finish, but the girl had driven the keys deep into the gash that was near the heart. She drove it in over and over, silencing her mother, and the imperfection that was to be said. 

She stood, carrying the body of her mother; no longer family, but another test subject. 

She took it outside, and buried it on the other side of the tulips. She hummed her happy song, knowing that everything was perfect. 

" I am perfect." She said, and walked back towards the house.

~The Next Day ~ 

There was a knock at the door early the next morning; the girl skipped over to answer it; and was surprised to see a young, handsome man extending a basket towards her. He smiled, and she smiled in return. Her scar was almost gone, so the man got the impression that she was flirting with him. 

" A gift, for a neighbor." He said.  

" My name is Lylson, and I live across the street." He smiled at her. 

She glanced at him, then at the basket, then back at him. 

"My name is Ravonyx, and this is my home."

A year later, Lylson and Ravonyx were set to be married. That is where this story, really begins.