The Love we Hide (Gay Furry Romance/Thriller story) MA15+

C2P19 - Fr4c7ur3

Vincent POV-

From the moment the wick of the burning candle had hit the ground and sent sparks spurting against the wall,

the race had begun.

The race to run away from the maniac who charged so gleefully down the hall towards us, cleaver swinging madly and without effort, as the masked figure hummed a tune none of us could hear above the pounding footsteps of our paws.

An adrenaline-filled race of clanging and blood-curdling screams and paws smashing against the we grounds of these sewer-like-ruins.

'Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen!' My thoughts rambled on in shock of what was going on.

'Place your bets! Only your life is accepted!'

Was that the sound of Dusk whimpering in fear? Why is growing more and more distant? He's in trouble, isn't he?

'Our best racehorse today is the Torturer folks! Now, he's quite familiar with the track, and that white mask never fails to liven up the celebrations!'

Snap out of it David, you're in danger, get a grip. Your brother is in danger, your boyfriend is in danger!

The torturer had covered enough ground that I could see the whites in his bloodshot eyes, the eyes of a fur who had long since lost their mind to sick sadistic pleasure.

'Ohhhhhh here he comes ladies and gentlemen! Will you look at the pace in that! My goodness, is that a cleaver I see? What a surprise!"

"VINCE! RUN!" A voice screamed from behind me, it wasn't annoying or anything but it got on my nerves, I couldn't tell why it did. Oh yes, that's Fetch's voice, why isn't he running away?

That pale mask is too close now, the torturer's arms are tilting back in delight, ready to swing and end it all.

'Now now folks, settle down, that cleaver is going to kill you, Vincent! It is going to rip through that muscular chest of yours!'

"AHHH!" I yelled out in battle cry and leapt forward, directing all of the adrenalin into fight instead of flight, if this nut job is going to hurt anyone, it's going to be me.

The torturer let out a grunt of rage as we both toppled onto the ground, the edge of his cleaver nicking me on the waste hard enough to draw blood on the way down. He hit the concrete with a thud, there was a splash but I couldn't see any water.

In fact, I couldn't see almost anything at all, it was all pitch black, but I kept my paws locked tightly on the handle of the weapon, trying to wrestle it away from his grasp.

"Let go!" He gargled, choking on his own built-up saliva as he kicked me in the Adam's apple of my throat with an iron heeled boot that I couldn't see coming. I heaved back with momentum and landed stomach down on the ground, clutching my throat and gasping for air. It was like being thrown in the underside of surf, with no direction of what was up and down as you toppled helplessly in the black waves of the night, desperate for breath with your life flashing before your very eyes.

There was a serious of grunts and shuffles of boots on the ground as the torturer righted himself. I held my breath and quickly closed my eyes, maybe that was what got us found, my glowing eyes. If I couldn't see him, he couldn't see me. At least that was what I told myself.

He was staying still, standing upright, listening for me so he couldn't finally end my life. My throat was beginning to sting a little bit, but there was an itch at the back of my throat from the kick, making me want to cough and wheeze for air.

Yet I kept holding it in, as I held onto life.

A small clink from the cleaver's tip tapping into one of the walls, not even four feet away from me. The torturer could take a short step to the left and be standing on my leg.