Repurchased

Drip, drip, drip.

Blood trickled from my bruised fingers to the wintry cold cement I sat on. The shackles wouldn't budge. Trying once more to pry them off of my ankles, my hand slipped. Forming around me, was a pool of blood. Holding in my screams, I examined my now blood stained wrist. The rusty shackle had ripped into it, leaving a large gash.

Footsteps emerged, moving swiftly. Holding my wrist tightly, I dragged my body to the right corner of the small cellar. Creaking, the door opened slowly, with a horrible sound, like nails screeching on a chalkboard. My breaths increased, as his dark figure appeared from the doorway. He slammed the door, obviously trying to make it scare me, as it did.

When he finally arrived before me, he said nothing, as usual. It drove me completely mad, seeing how he could stay so quiet for so long. He slowly cocked his head to his left, his eyes piercing me, seeming to devour what was left of my sanity.. I tried to hold in my tears, but the way his eyes devilishly stared at me, physically hurt. Burning tears rolled down my cheeks, sizzling when they hit the floor.

"Why?!" I screamed at him, hiccuping with every tear that fell. Again, he said nothing. He just stared.. The fear that had built up, seemed to fall back, and confidence rose up in it's place. So I stared back, and it was completely agonizing. At last, he spoke.

"It seems you have failed to pay the amount." His voice was muffled from behind his mask, but it was loud and clear enough that it echoed off the walls. My mind raced around, trying to find out what he meant. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.. 'Pay'? Pay for what?

Then suddenly, it all rushed back to me. I had had an 'accident' around fifteen years ago.. Though the whole event was a blur, I distinctly remember what had happened. For some odd reason, my heart had started to fail. When the doctor had told my parents my heart wouldn't recover, and that I needed a transplant, they couldn't pay for it. So they did some research and found a small black-market for human organs. Eventually, a heart was found that was compatible, and also a doctor to perform the operation.

I remember that after the operation was over and done with, my parents had told me that they had to pay a certain amount each year for the organ. They also told me that if they couldn't pay for the organ, then it would have to be 'repurchased'. Luckily, their business spiked up and they were able to pay for it. But here I am, fifteen years later. I've got no parents, no job, no money. Especially not to pay for an organ, to be perfectly blunt, I had forgotten that I even had. So I'm here, in this cellar, a crazed killer staring into my face.

"It seems you have failed to pay the amount," he repeated, jerking me out of my thoughts. He stepped closer towards me, making me flinch slightly. "Why have you failed to pay?"

I hesitated, somehow my thoughts had gotten blurred. Stuttering, I pushed the words out of my throat, "I, um.. I lost my job. I couldn't pay for the heart anymore.." My words stumbled on, as he stepped closer, holding the oxygen mask to my face. My mind screamed out for help, but my lips seemed to be paralyzed.

I felt the sharp tip of what seemed to be a scalpel pierce my chest, the cold temperature of the metal settling me down. I shut my eyes tightly, but somehow tears still escaped. 'Why? Why me?' My thoughts slowed, and I felt myself drift into oblivion.