Mayhem 13: Merciless

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Mayhem 13: They kept asking for mercy in a world full of uncertainty.

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Claire's PoV

I'm back. I have returned to the void— the pitch black scenery of nothingness. How long has it been since I've last payed a visit here? I'm undoubtedly sure that it wasn't that long.

For once, I pick up strength to stand and walk around the endless darkness. I was shaking, a familiar sensation. All I see is black which isn't any clue to tell me where I am. My barefeet greeted the cold floor with every step. The next thing I knew is that I was already running.

It must be a dream... but why here? Why has it always been here in this sickening place?

I keep gasping for air, inhaling sharply every second as cold beads of sweat trickle down my forehead. I don't know what I was running away from but for some reason, I feel tense... I feel scared.

Halt. I stopped in the middle of nowhere, slowly turning away from my north. I still have no reason nor do I have control of whatever I am doing. All I could hear is a faint echo of the same sentence...

Faith, wake up.

I opened my eyes slowly and I squeeze them shut right after the glimpse of light. My neck feels sore and my head seems heavy. I decided to open my eyes and see what situation I'm in.

The first thing I noticed is my hands and feet tied up. Something soft was on my forehead. I assume that they dressed the wound I might have gotten from that attack. Asides that, everything is blurry. Did they take my contacts out? Dang. It took me hours to get them and I lose them like this?

Tsk.

"So you're awake," a voice whispered. I didn't even bother to spare him a glance. Instead, I remained quiet, glaring at the floor.

A hand grabbed my chin and forced it upwards but my eyes strayed away. "You have a mouth right?"

Before he even finishes his sentence, I manage to spit on his shoes. My fazed mind unconciously urged me to look at his face with traces of disgust. His hand lost its grip and his other hand did a quick run on my cheek. The impact was strong, making me flinch. I try my best not to make any sound to give them satisfaction from my so-called torture.

Although, my face is one of my best assets. Such a shame.

Paul leans forward and this time, wraps his two hands around my neck. I gasp for air and eventually start choking. "Please stop" were words that became too hard to roll off the tongue. On second thought, I'd rather die.

"You little bi—"

"Enough," another voice cuts in. It was the same cold voice that knocked me out. I assume it's Mr. Timothy Stranger. The voice earlier, however, seemed like it belonged to a psycho.

My gaze trails upward. My guess was right, it was him. I hate it— I hate that freaking face. It was cold, as cold as his voice... or maybe colder. It seemed like he was just some old man crossing on the street who's doing fine and minding his own business but no, he's not. He has the ability to kill, with or without a gun in hand.

Mr. Paul lets me go and my breathing accelerates rapidly. It took him long enough to let go. I almost felt like I had to get violent but it was a good thing that I didn't. I have to remain as calm and as quiet as I can.

"Now, Ms. Pauline Asher," Mr. Timothy started, emphasizing Asher. The name gives me a cringe since it belonged to one of my childhood friends but that doesn't matter now.

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