a/n: hey guys. i know we don't do horror ones that often, but i felt like experimenting. i almost never write horror, so if its awkward that's why.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Lots of mentions of blood, death, mutilation, torture, just gore things I guess.
*If anything else is a trigger that I didn't put here, please tell me and I'll edit it in. Stay safe <3
"Don't think I won't find you again."
Those were the last words Phil Lester ever spoke to me. His last words before the police dragged him away.
I could still remember the way he terrified me. He'd chuckle lowly, and stare at me in such a way I would nearly freeze in place. He looked at me like I was a piece of meat.
Everything I did when he had me made him laugh. When I tried to poison him, when I tried to pull against the ropes, when I tried to beg.
Well, the last one didn't make him laugh in that infuriating way. No. He hated it when people begged. Too pathetic, he had said.
But that's all I could do. All the words I could form when he was pushing the blade against my skin. When the blood would jet out from me slowly, and I'd be forced to watch as the red trickled down, all the way to the puddle on the floor.
Sometimes my pleading would work, but only for a while. But it wasn't what made him stop for a while. He would stop when I stopped begging, when the words had been reduced to nothing. When I wouldn't speak. He taught me begging stopped nothing.
When the police bursted through the door and put him in those handcuffs, all he did was say those words at me. Although some officers assured me Phil would not be able to get to me, it didnt ease my worry.
I was terrified.
And later it would seem that my worries were rightfully so.
-----
All I could see was red. Not on the floor, luckily. But over my eyes.
Like a blindfold.
I started panicking. I kept turning my head, as if I could escape the red. I was shaking, and my breathing was not normal.
In, out, in, out. Too fast, too fast. Calm down, calm down.
It wouldn't work. I kept shaking, and I couldn't stop. I couldn't calm down.
Then I stopped when I heard it. That same deep chuckle. The one from my nightmares.
"Panicking really does look good on you, darling," He murmured.
No. Please, god no. He found me, he really found me. They told me he wouldn't!
Those liars. They said I'd be protected, and there was no way Phil would be back. But here he was.
He carefully took the blindfold off, and threw it somewhere on the ground. I looked down at the ground as soon as my vision came back.
I saw the blindfold. Red. I hate red.
"Look at me," he ordered. He was quiet, almost sounded gentle.
But I couldn't trust that. Never.
"Look at me!" He yelled, lifting my head up by the chin.
I stared at his icy blue eyes. They looked dull. But the lack of emotion in them didn't console me.
It made me worry even more.
"I found you."
I shivered.
"Did you think I would?" He asked calmly.
Hesitantly, I nodded.
An evil smile formed on his face. "Aw thank you. You believed in me," he chuckled.
His breath was cold on my face. Like the air during winter.
"W-Why'd you find me though?" I asked. "Don't you have better things to do?"
He was silent. I feared for the worst. A tantrum, a violent reaction. The moments where he was calm scared me the most. The calm was always the beginning to the suffering.
"I wanted to repay you," he said. "But unlike last time, I'll finish this."
My eyes widened. He laughed at the look of surprise on my face.
He didn't mean...?
I was shocked. He loved the torture, loved the blood. Loved the reactions.
I gulped down my fear, hoping to appear strong in what could be my final moments. "Finish?"
He grinned at me before walking away to grab something. He came back with a sharp knife. "Sharpened it just for you," he said.
He slashed a few cuts through my arm, and I watched as the blood trickled down, just like before. I was breathing heavily, my nerves going crazy.
"I love that look on your face, Dan," Phil said. "It really captures your fear."
He forced the knife deeper into my skin, and I held back a scream. I didn't want to encourage him.
The knife went deeper and deeper, the blood squirting everywhere. I couldn't keep quiet anymore. I kept screaming until I couldn't anymore.
Till my voice went out.
He paused for a moment. "That's no fun," he said. "The screaming's the best part."
"Why?" I ask, my voice just a pained whisper. Tears began falling onto my lips.
"Your torture is my pleasure," he declared. "But I'll end this. You're not screaming the music to my ears."
He withdrew the knife from my bloody arm. I could only watch as he raised the knife, and then jammed it into my midsection.
Excurciating pain went through my body. Until it stopped. My body shuddered, and a final noise left my mouth.
A muffled scream.
The last thing I saw was his face, completely normal, except for the smirk. That evil smirk.
At least I didn't beg.
--end?--
a/n: was that good? i don't really know. yeah, anways. dont except this kind of thing from me often.
adios.
