The dream

Down the rabit hole

Trying to pay attention, the teen blinked her eyes, she had stayed up far to late last night writing in her journal. Funny, the more she seemed to focus on paying attention to whatever drivel the professor was spouting, the more distracted she got. The pleasant reverberation of the teachers low voice beat a steady tattoo gently in Jonathan's head. Every time she blinked, the harder it was to open her eyes again, until finally, she slept. She dreamt she was on a ship, an old fishing vessel. It was calm, the sea nearly glass still. Similarly to all her dreams, Jonathan dreamt she was a male. It didn't mean much, she still identified as female, she was just more comfortable that way. An old fisherman, with a weathered face and wise eyes, stood next to her leaning on the railing. He was looking across the vast expanse of water, and pointed to a smudge of grey just above the horizon, "There be a storm brewin' Jonny-boy. Keep yer head about ye' when it hits, lest ye' lose what ye' cherish most." The old fisherman turned to face Jonathan, he had warm brown eyes, but one was clouded by cataracts, the teen nodded and turned away, walking towards the cabins "don't act too quickly, but don't hesitate once ye' know what to do." The wise fisherman said as Jon was turning away. Jonathan glanced backwards, eyes on the storm. "I've done this before. Thank you for the warning." Looking forward once again, Jonathan strode decisively to the cabin of  of the ship "Five more days till storm break. Be ready." The ship's captain called, without taking his eyes off the grey smudge. Jonathan nods, stepping through the open doorway into the cabin. It was very dark in here. Closing the door, the teen plunges herself into pitch blackness. A match flares as it lights an old oil lamp, illuminating the sparsely furnished room, rocking back and forth with the gentle waves. There was a menacing air about the place, and Jonathan didn't like it. "Hello, Jon. Glad you could make it." An arrogant voice drips through the darkness, carving a path through the shadows. The lantern light catches the face of an elegant businessman with wicked eyes. "Hello Alister. Long time, no see. Have you tortured any babies lately?" Narrowing her eyes, Jonathan inspected his face. "No, no. Babies are too easy, and their screams have no substance. I prefer to break strong and stubborn warriors. Seeing their pride dissolve as they lose all hope, ah." Alister's lips curl up to reveal snow white teeth, bared in a sick smile. "Their screams of pain really turn me on." The wicked man blows out the flame, and melts into the darkness. The shadows seem to loom around the dreaming girl growing higher by the second. Crashing in on her like a breaking wave, the shadows coil around Jon, forcing themselves down her throat and nose, stripping her bare and leaving tar-like residue all over her skin. As she is held by the shadows, Alister's cold hard laugh cuts through, giving shape to the formless shadows. The residue settling on her skin turns into cloth, black as pitch. Now clothed in a black t-shirt and black cloth pants, Jonathan is strapped to a cold steel table tilted at a 70 degree angle, feet facing the floor, She is surrounded by darkness. Half illuminated by the spotlight trained on her, she can see a trolley laid out with instruments of various uses. Alister steps into the circle of light that is keeping the black tendrils of shadow at bay. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his satin black vest is covered by a blue rubber apron. His hands are ungloved, and search the laid out supplies. He smiles and selects a scalpel. "Let's start, shall we?"
"Not like I have a choice in the matter right?" Jon replies sarcastically. "I love it when you talk Sarcastic to me Jonny," Alister moans, "Do it again, or I'll make you squirm." Jonathan grimaces in disgust, "Alister you are one sick bastard." Alister shakes his head, chuckling darkly, "Don't you know this is a dream Jonny? you know what that means don't you?" The Slytherin girl doesn't respond, "Oh, you do, do you?," the insane businessman lets lose a maniacal laugh that sends chills down Jonathan's spine, "You can't wake up until I've had my fun, and I have so much lost time to make up for." Alister's smile never drops from his lips, his face dripping with dark intensity. "Enough with the foreplay, I'm ready to take what I want from you." He growls as he stalks forward, scalpel in hand. With it, he cuts away Jon's shirt, leaving her bare chest exposed to the thick air. The man in the apron takes a second to drink in Jonathan's well muscled torso, before firmly grasping Jonathan's chin, forcing her to look at him, "Do try to keep the volume down, won't you?" Alister teases in a fake baby voice, a small sarcastic pout on his lips, "We don't want to disturb the neighbors now do we?" The subject of Alister's mockery just glares at him, teeth clenched in a stubborn promise: I will not make a sound. Alister drops the fake pout, lips curling up into a sadistic smile, and as punishment for Jonathan's stubborn act, he slowly brings the scalpel up towards Jon's exposed neck, as if to slit it. As the surgical blade nears the Slytherin's jugular, Alister raises his eyes from Jonathan's throat, he meets the stubborn glare of his victim. A small tremor running through him, Alister pauses, considering, if I slit her throat I would have to wait for her to regain consciousness and that would take too long. Leaving the knife in its position barely grazing her neck, Alister's hypnotic gaze slides over Jonathan's exposed skin. He licks his lips, tracing the scars scattered across her vulnerable form with an oily glance, savoring the memories of how glorious Jonathan sounded when things really got going. Just the thought of how the lithe figure strapped to his table yelps and writhes under his hands, makes the well dressed tormenter want to groan with impatience. Using all his will, Alister controls himself ,we have all the time in the world, he reminds the impatient part. Slowly dragging the silver blade to the top of Jon's shoulder, reveling in the feeling of slowly gliding the blade across Jonathan's skin. Without hesitation as he reaches the peak of Jonathan's shoulder, Alister starts adding gentle pressure as he cuts deeper into Jonathan's supple flesh. Carmine droplets slice through the pale of Jonathan's skin, white with suppressed pain. The delectable droplets roll down Jon's tensed arm, and drip quietly onto the polished silver of the table the teen was strapped to. Letting the thick fluid touch his fingertips Alister marvels at the display of will power, some of the hardest warriors already broke at this point. Lifting the scalpel away, Alister nods, surveying the sanguine fluid flowing from Jon's wounds. "So Jonny-boy, this doing it for you?" If looks could kill, Alister would've died on the spot. Chuckling at the folly of the restrained teen, Alister quickly slices tiny incisions all over Jonathan's tanned core. They were barely more than paper cuts, but they were enough to draw blood. "Here, let me clean those for you." Alister mocks as he dabs saline solution on the tiny incisions. Jonathan tenses in pain, and Alister laughs, digging the saline soaked cotton ball into the cut. "I'm just warming up Jonny-boy!" Alister pauses for a moment, thinking, then bends over and licks the bleeding cuts. Jon freezes, the unexpected attack confusing the immobilized teen. "Oh, you didn't expect that now did you?" Alister taunts, voice going low as he straightens up and looms over Jonathan's immobilized body. Alister abandons the small incisions for something far more substantial, and makes a larger, deeper incision, going from her collar bone to her pubic bone. The Slytherin girl arches her back in pain, trying to get away from the knife. When her back muscles are fully taut, Alister delivers a firm jab straight into Jonathan's stomach, knocking the breath out of her, and causing her to retch. Without hesitation, Alister immediately digs his thumb into the cut, causing Jonathan to gasp in pain. Fire dances in Alister's eyes as he watches Jonathan gasp and choke; he had broken her silence. "I'm going to make you scream my name." Alister growls. For the next several hours, the air was heavy with the sound of Jonathan's screams ringing scarlet into the night, and Alister's maniacal laughter, he only stopped when she fell silent, slipping into unconsciousness, "Well that was fun while it lasted." Alister's mutters, shaking his immaculately groomed head. He looked at his watch. Barely any time had passed in the real world. Looking at the battered and bloody youth strapped to the table, Alister sighed, he wished he hadn't had to do that, but it was his job, nothing personal. Deciding to take pity on the child, Alister decided to wake her up. Taking hold of a bucket full of a salt and lemon juice solution, The tormenter threw its contents over the unconscious teen "Time to wake up Jonny!"