Red

Chapter 14

Nate

I hissed in pain at the pounding in my head. I'd woken up maybe five minutes ago. I had no idea where I was. All I know is that I was bound to a cold, metal table with leather straps. I was blindfolded as well. My head kept throbbing in time with my pounding heart.

I still didn't know if my father was even here. I was certain that he chased me down, though. There's no way I could mistake that voice.

I started to struggle against the leather when a door banged open. Loud, angry shouts sounded right next to me.

"I want him taught a lesson! He is mine, he belongs to me!"

I gulped. That was definitely my father.

"What is that supposed to mean! This is a living being, a human boy! He is not some piece of property!"

This voice was new; I've never heard it before. I was just about to say something when I heard a loud SLAP! The other man let out a yell. Everything went quiet.

"You listen to me." My father's voice was quieter and deeper, and a lot scarier now. "I want you to hurt him as much as possible without killing him. He needs to learn that he can't escape me. This was the last straw."

The other man's voice was practically a whisper. "Wh-why not j-just do it y-yourself?"

My father laughed. It was humorless and full of a deep sense of loathing. "I'd just straight up kill him as soon as the blade was in my hand. Now." I heard footsteps, and then there was a cold hand on my chest, which I had just realized was bare, causing me to yelp. "Do something about that. I don't want him screaming yet."

More footsteps, then an unpleasant ripping noise. The footsteps echoed strangely every time they sounded. I jumped when the duct tape was placed over my mouth.

"Believe me, kid," he said quietly, so my father wouldn't hear. "I don't want to be here anymore than you do."

He walked away, and I was left with a sinking feeling of dread and fear. I heard the metallic sound of metal clinking against metal. I tensed, waiting for it to press against my skin.

"Wait."

I didn't move an inch.

"Let me...do something first."

My father walked closer to me, the other man close behind.

"Hand me the knife."

"B-b-but y-you said–"

"Give me the blade, Adrian."

There was silence for a moment. Then the freezing blade was laid gentle across my chest.

"I'm gonna leave a mark on you," my father said. "One you can't ever forget. It will stay with you until you die."

The blade left my chest for a second, but then it came down in one quick flash, breaking skin and leaving a long, bleeding cut. I ground my teeth together behind the tape, not wanting my father to get the pleasure of hearing me scream.

He made five more cuts before I couldn't hold it back. I let out a small cry of pain. He stopped. The next three were so vicious and happened so fast without warning that I couldn't help it. I did scream.

As I lay there, panting, on the table, the final three were made with almost loving care. My father stepped back. I didn't need to see it to know what he had carved into my chest.

MINE.