Hamartia [Nanowrimo] | ✓

Ten

The first thing she saw when she woke up was him. He was leaning up against the window, both hands on the glass, just like the first day he brought her here. 

She knew by the way his elbow was almost touching the window, he had been standing there watching her for a while now. 

She sucked in air as the door squeaked open. He had on his usual black attire with his hood on top of his, covering a tiny bit of his mask.

Silence followed him as he walked purposely towards Tequila. 

"Undress." He ordered. 

She was about to protest, but the knife in his hand told her it was best to keep her mouth shut. The little pride she had left vanished in mid-air as she slowly slid off her clothes he had given her. Each piece of clothing she took off she folded neatly and handed it over to him. 

Once she was done he ordered her to walk in front of him. She could feel the handle part of the knife poke her back, encouraging her to continue walking. 

She hated it. Hated every bit of control he had over her. 

She felt a scream trapped in the back of her throat as she entered a new room she'd never seen before. A metal chair was placed in the middle of the room along with a mobile table that looked like it belonged in a hospital. 

The room's walls were different from the rest. Instead of the walls being cement bricks they were filled with scripts stapled to the wall, shelves filled with masks, and red curtains hanging from the ceiling. 

She felt as if she was playing a part in a particular play, but she wasn't playing a girl who was hopelessly in love with a guy or locked in a castle. No, she was playing a girl who was about to die. For the scripts, if she looked closely enough, all contained the word 'death'. 

Her eyes lingered a bit longer on the scripts, trying to decipher what each meant, before she was pushed away and ordered to sit in the chair. The cold metal covered her body in goosebumps as she tried to calm her mind. 

She wondered if everyone had that moment before death where all those forbidden thoughts that had been tucked neatly away came rushing back. 

She thought about her parents the most as a old film played in her head, showing the good and the bad times she had with her family. She thought about the cake she baked for her mother on mother's day, the barbie jeep she drove proudly in front of them, the movie nights she had with the whole family, and the first play she put on for her parents. All the memories were good ones, but she knew that wasn't how life was. 

Bad memories were a part of her life as well. She cringed as she thought back to the first time Nero had publicly humiliated her, but she soon got used to his remarks after the tenth time.

The most forbidden thought of all was the one she hated to admit. Death, but she didn't dwell on the thought for too long. 

The sound of utensils clinking against the metal table brought her back to life. 

Her eyes flickered to the various killing devices, but the one he was holding was a knife. She wondered if his favorite weapon was a knife because he always seemed to have a knife on him.

Maybe he liked the knife because the knife was slender and thin yet it held power to create different possibilities. You could kill with a knife or you could slowly torture with a knife, either way you were going to die no matter what. 

She hated knifes. 

"I was wrong," He said as he cleaned the knife with a silky looking cloth. "You have suffered enough."