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Untitled Part 2

Two weeks later my grandpa died and it was just me and my siblings. This was the most depressing part of my life. I couldn't think straight and my tears blurred the world in front of me. I was the oldest of my siblings, and I still didn't know how to cook. All I knew that I could do was gather crops. For the next three years I had to take my siblings to town with me so that I could set up a stand and sell crops. Each and every day my siblings and I would take the money that we made and buy one biscuit for the each of us. 

One  ignite while I was tucking in my brother and sister, I heard a strange noise in the  yard. It sounded like a gun. I told both of my siblings to come with me. We ran into the living room. I lifted up the rug, and revealed a door in the ground. I opened it shoved my siblings jumped covered it up and locked the door. Three minutes later, the back door opened. Footsteps slowlcame into the living room. Shhhh. I said to my siblings who had started to cry. Stomp. Stomp. I started to feel sick. Where are youuuuu. Everything went black. Next thing that I knew, I was strapped to a table of which was located in a large white room. The only thing that I could think of doing was screaming for help, screaming for my siblings, screaming for my mom, my dad, and my life. So I did. 

    An hour later the door to the room opened, and a strange figure appeared. I was so dehydrated and tried that my vision was weak and I couldn't see many of the figures facial features. The person said something but I wasn't worried about listening. The room started to spin and I passed out again. When I woke up my throat didn't hurt as much, and I could make out the persons face to be of a mans. It was a face that I had seen a long time ago, but I just didn't remember where I saw it. I asked him why he had me here. All that he said was you will soon see. And then he walked out of the room with a slight smirk on his face. For three days I thought about the words that he said. I suddenly remembered why I knew this man. Four years ago, when I went to the market for a fan, a man with a sad face was about to grab the fan, when I ran and reached it before him, he seemed mad. Thi is how I know this man. But is this all caused over a fan? Was there something else that happened that day, did my parameters and him fight? If so why now? Why not when it happened? Was he scared of my dad? Why me, why now? 

     The door opened. And instead of one man there were two. One had a bag, and it made a lot of noise when they walked. It sounded like metal clancking against itself. The other had a table. The came over to me. One set up the table, while the other checked the straps that pinned me down to the table. He made them tighter. Once the straps were tightened, and the table was set up, the man that I remembered walked into the room. He opened the bad and set it on the table, as he pulled out scapoles, knives, peices of metal, and tweezers. He grabbed a small knive and made a small cut on my cheek. Then another man walked into the room with a bottle of  alcohol in his hand. Then the man that was cutting me grabbed a  large piece of metal and hit me in the stomach until it bruised. Next he grabbed a knive and stabbed me between my ribs. As he ripped it out, he poured alcohol, into the wound. Then every man left the room for two days. When they came back, they had a chain, a pile of wood, nails and a hammer. One man told me that he was going to take off the straps, he also told me that if I tried to fight back, then I would be shot in the back of my leg. I didn't fight back. I did whatever they told me to do, and I was not shot. The chained me to the wall, and told me to build a cross. Then they left the room. When I was done, they came back. They put a bag over my head and dragged me out of the room. A little while later the opened a door and put me in another room. The bag was still on my head. I heard something being put into the floor. The bag was ripped off my head and I front of me was the cross that I built, they picked me up and held me against the cross as another person hammered nails through my weekend hands, ankles, and stomach. The sound of my secrams echoed through the room and the pain felt as if it would never end. They left room for three days as I slowly starved. Then they came back with a crown of thorns and a cup of vinegar. They put on the crown and forced the vinegar down my dry throat. After they made me drink, they told me that I was worthless and that I would never escape the pain of my fathers death, and the memories of my mother. Two days later they brought my little siblings in the room and made them kneel in front of me as they sliced open an arterie. I had to watch them slowly suffer as they bled to death, and I had to listen to them cry for help. And I could not help them. So I told them that I loved them and to tell mom that I will see her soon.