Kill First, Die Last...[COMPLETED]

Chapter 14: Her flame...

Adam's POV:

The day is almost gone. I can feel the cuff slowly taking my body with it as it winds back up into the ceiling. Indenting my neck, only shallow breathes escaping from my body. Drowning in sweat, I feel the currents pounding through my body, blistering my insides. It's like this 'cube' has become a part of me.

Ma-Ma hasn't come back for ages. Thank God. I feel like it's her face and her sweet, sour voice that is going to kill me, not the rope.

Currents go swarming through my soon to be corpse every time I  try to take in a long breath. Tears start flowing from my eyes from the unbearable pain that will never go away.

Tears start flooding from my eyes every time I think of puppy eyes. It kills e not knowing if she's alive or not.  And the fact that I don't even know her real name, kills me. And it kills me every time not knowing that Ma-Ma has held her, ready to throw her off a building, execute or hang her or something. Or even worse. Drowning her in the Slow-Mo. 

Then, my mind wonders off to Daryl. Daryl. I always try to tell myself to forget about him, not care for him, delete him from my life. But the little part of me overtakes everything else, because I have that little hope, buried deep in me, that he's alright. 

He was my only mate, he was the only help I got. He did risk his life for me. He did feed me when I was starving. He gave me shelter. He was the only person who looked out for me.

But he also stood there when I was being tortured.

And that's the one thing I hate about me. Wishing that he's okay, when He didn't help me when the one time I wasn't. The one time it mattered. 

Aaaagh!  scream and wince in distress as the nails plough deeper into my skin. Blood rupturing from what once was my veins.

Suddenly, I feel a excruciating tear.

Everything around me stops as I look down at the pile of meat in front of me. My left palm flops to the right in a grotesque way, exposing the crushed bones under the pile of dead, repulsive skin. Greased in Dark-red. My hand is falling off.

That's it. I have had enough.

With one gut-wrenching yank, I jerk my hands and feet upwards. An unbearable torturous pain floods through my arms and legs as an eruption of red showers down my clothes. An agonizing stream of pain torrents my upper body as I cry from the trauma. 

Not only that, but the army of currents scorch my insides as I cough up blood through my throat and nose. Bile soon rising in my throat as I vomit from the deathly smell and brutal torture. 

It's like the sensation from my hands and feet has dissolved.  But I can just about move them.

My hands and feet are washed from the blood, accessorized by the holes left by the nails. 

I can't help but cry. The agony is like a part of me. I can feel it everyday. Ever since I was in the Valentina, It comes crawling back when I wake up in the morning, and comes crawling in my dreams when I sleep. It's scary when I sleep. All I see is the people who died that  day. 

When my eyes are closed, the hangings,,the executions, the 'Games', all replay in my mind. Like those thoughts are forever printed in my mind. It's all I see. Every second of everyday. 

It's like those deaths are trying to tell me something. Maybe trying to tell me that I could've stopped them. Maybe I should stop them, then maybe the thoughts will stop. 

But I am just a slave. Ma-Ma's puppet.

I close my eyes as the pain blossoms with each second but no, I don't want to. It's dark there. It's where my demons hide.