Crushed

There was no telling how much time had passed. The gag was suffocating him, to the point where his breathing was almost non-existent. Fear had sent his heartbeat into a frenzy, beating so hard that it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, breaking his ribs on the way. The smell of blood permeated the room, coupled with the musty smell of somewhere underground. Every noise he heard caused his body to seize up, for fear it was the footsteps. For fear the he was coming back.

Still, he had no idea where the hell he was, a tight cloth plastered onto his face, pushing his eyes inward. Maybe, if it was ever removed, they would be so far back that they would never see again.

The sound of his own, shallow, racing breath was ringing in his ears, so loud, it made his head hurt, yet so quiet, it could stop so suddenly. Leaving nothing behind.

The sound of footsteps rang throughout the room, echoing on the walls. Even though he knew he was tied up, his body automatically tried to shrink away, anything, just get as far away from that noise.

He knew, then, that he must have been drugged. Even though adrenaline was pumping through his veins, his mind still felt groggy, and asleep. Somehow, this made him even more afraid.

For the first time, the mask keeping him from seeing slipped away. The aftereffects were as expected. The who world was a smear of colour. Like someone had taken a painting, and drowned it, causing the colour to leak and blend into an incomprehensible mess.

He felt his hair being yanked upward as his captor pulled his face to eye level.

All he could recognise was the black markings down his face and the insane grin that reminded him too much of a child having been given a new toy to play with. Had he been able to pull a sharp breath in, he would have.

His captor let go of his head, and it flopped forward, so fast, he thought his neck was going to break. He had no idea what was going to happen. The only other interaction he had had with his Captor, was when he had dragged him here. The memory was clouded, and any memory before that was simply non-existent. All he could remember was the casual tone to his Captors voice, as he pulled him into the room, a knife pointed at his throat, so close, he could almost feel it biting into his neck. As if he was just talking to a friend, no hint of anything abnormal in his voice. Really, that was what was so terrifying.

There was nothing he could do, when he felt something cold and metallic push against his hands and lower arms.

Having no idea what the hell was happening, he tried to see what it was that had seized him, but his vision was too blurred.

Whatever it was kept tightening and tightening, until even his damaged eyes could see that his hands had turned a deep blue, then an ugly, bruised purple.

The cold metal was cutting into his wrists and arms, and the pain was worsening. Somewhere, in the distance, someone was talking and laughing, but all he could focus on was the intense pain crushing his hands.

Red began to flow, covering the silver metal.

*Crunch*

He could hear the bones in this hands crack and break. All of his senses were sent into overdrive, sight, although still blurry, lit up the dank room, the smell of fresh blood flooded his nose, the sound of bone crunching and the voice of his Captor combining to make an orchestra of agony.

When unconsciousness came, it was like the aftermath of drowning.

The peace after the agony.

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