One Wish.

Chapter 8: Dance with the Devil

Okay, hello, hi, it's me, W.N.S. I hope to absolute hell that this gets posted because I think I'll actually cry if it doesn't. The stress of trying to upload this for the past 3ish days and not being able to is so annoying. Anyways, I'm so sorry for the delay, and without further ado, here is your chapter!
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"You really are a creep!" You gasped out as your face was pushed further into the door, Dark's grip not loosening for a moment. Your words fell on deaf ears as he moved his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, only giving you a few mere seconds to enjoy the release of pressure from your face being pressed against the wooden door before a scream erupted from your lips as Dark tugged you back by your hair.

You fell, your back knocking Dark's knee painfully as you struggled against his hand; clawing at his skin in an attempt to get him to unhand you. But to no avail. He began to drag you down the corridor by your hair, your scalp breaking out in an intense, burning pain as your hair was pulled harshly, and you could have sworn that your hair was falling out due to the brute force. You flailed; making it difficult for him to drag you, screaming and kicking down the hallway as you moved to grab a hold of the doorways as you passed each of them.

Once you had reached the threshold of the kitchen, your eyes darted up as you heard a soft noise, barely audible over the noise you were currently making. You looked up to the front door to see it was slightly ajar and you could have sworn that you didn't knock the handle. Your thoughts were confirmed as you saw a hand reach out from behind a wall; just beyond your point of vision, and close the door silently. You knew it couldn't have been Mark due to the Mystery Man wearing a yellow, long sleeved shirt but you were nonetheless filled with hope. Someone was coming to save you!

You looked up to see Dark hadn't noticed and continued to try and damage his hand, your nails digging in viciously; leaving light scratches, screaming insult upon insult at him as he dragged you through the kitchen towards the locked door at the back. He threw you down on the floor; your head smacking against the tiles with a heavy thud as your eyes momentarily went out of focus; black spots appearing in your vision as your ears began ringing. You didn't even have time to question how he'd gotten the key to unlock the door.

You suddenly felt yourself being lifted up and thrown over Dark's shoulder, your vision still disjointed as you felt something sticky trickling down the side of your forehead. Lifting your hand up, you gently touched the side of your head and winced, holding your hand in front of you, you saw that you were bleeding.

Dark defended the stairs, still carrying you over his shoulder. The room grew darker the further Dark climbed down the stairs and you risked a glance up to the doorway you had come from; your distant escape growing further away from you. That is, until a figure came to block your view at the top of the stairs. It was that Mystery Man from earlier! It had to be! Though your vision was blurred and slowly clearing, you had hope. Dark still hadn't noticed the intruder as the Mystery Man began to slowly and silently make his way down the stairs behind you both and you prayed to the heavens that Dark didn't turn around.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Dark made for the centre of the room where a wooden chair was residing and set you down on top of it before tying your hands and feet with rope. How cliché. You rolled your eyes before lolling your head back and closing them briefly to readjust your sight. Once you opened your eyes again, Dark was standing off the side to you, lighting a lamp, match in hand.

The dim light allowed you to see the Mystery Man from earlier sneak down the remaining stairs and hide behind the boxes in the corner. Your breathing hitched and Dark turned around to give you a quizzical look before allowing his eyes to wander briefly to the boxes where your saviour was currently hiding. Dark walked to one of the dark corners of the room and lit another lamp and you gasped at what it revealed.

Not only did Dark look even more menacing under the dim lighting but it allowed the various tools he has to glint on the table and you swallowed thickly at the image of all the torture and pain he could put you though with them. Your eyes began to water as Dark picked up a small kitchen knife and examined it briefly before flinging it into the corner where your saviour was. You screamed in shock as you heard the knife embed itself into the brick wall; boxes falling to reveal... no one... where had he gone? Had you imagined it all?

Suddenly, you heard the sound of fabric ripping and footsteps. Your saviour was then revealed, his yellow shirt sleeve slightly ripped from where the knife had nicked him. He was smirking, twirling his pink moustache.

Dark growled as you looked at the other in shock, "That was a cheap shot, Dark. You ruined my favourite shirt." The Mystery Man drawled. You couldn't help but stare in disbelief, his voice seeming so familiar... so comforting... so... funny? His accent sounded quite ridiculous and you had to withhold a scoff of laughter as the Mystery Man looked at you with a wide smile.

Dark looked at the approaching male wearily, as if he knew something you didn't and replied with a simple; "if I was aiming to hit you, you would already be dead. That was a warning throw, Moustache." Dark hissed, "Besides, you know what you happen if I were to have hit you." This peaked your curiosity. What would happen? You wondered.

The man came to kneel in front of you and took your tied hand, placing a polite Kiss on your knuckles; his moustache tickling your skin slightly as he looked up at you. You looked down at him with a slightly raised brow, your eyes darting across his face before looking at his hands, still holding onto yours. Your brows furrowed as you saw his hands had scratches as marks across them... They looked exactly the same as Dark's but surely they couldn't be?...

"That I do, Darkimoo." The man replied with a smirk as Dark growled at the sickening nickname he had acquired from the man in the yellow shirt, "And it's Warfstache. Not 'Moustache'." He then looked back to you and bowed his head.

"M'Lady, my name is Wilford Warfstache."