Victim's POV
The first stone hit you hard. The second was worse. The third was the largest, and the fourth was the sharpest. One hits your head, the other hits your left eye, the next on your neck, and the last on your ribs. You try to shout. The gag prevents you. The only sounds you hear is the man's laughter, the stones striking your body, the weird music playing in the background, and your muffled shrieks. When each stone strikes you, your eyes bulge in agony. Soon enough, every part of your body sears with pain and drips with blood. You've lost your second eye by now. It's as if a knife punctures you recurrently. This torture has been ongoing for 10 minutes. You dread the inevitable: death. Your faint cries mix in with sobs as you think about how you will never see your loved ones again: your daughter's cheerful giggle and her bouncy red hair, your parent's everlasting concern, and your husband's contagious grin. The sobs mix with howls, mixes with pain, mixes with sticky blood, mixes with sinister laughter, goes on, and on, and on, and on, and eventually fades to black.
YOU ARE READING
You Are My Disease
Horror"The only sounds you hear is the man's laughter, the stones striking your body, the weird music playing in the background, and your muffled shrieks. When each stone strikes you, your eyes bulge in agony. Soon enough, every part of your body sears wi...
