𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘

.two.

characters : dominic, some other person
ages : 20, 24

-x-

it was a large warehouse.
it looked quite pitiful on the outside with its worn down walls and a sickly scent of something rotting inside of it. no one had been in it for years, and dominic had just broken the record. and so had the man that was lying on the ground in front of him, his eyes glazed over as he struggled to stay alive.

"why are you in such a hurry?" dominic asked the man, sitting next to his shivering body. he pulled his knees up to his chest, glancing down at the man again. "after all, we did tell your girlfriend that we were going to be gone for a few hours. it's only been ten minutes, we have a lot more time to do something."

"y-you're crazy!" the man gasped, reaching his hand out for the gun that was a view inches away from him outstretched hand.

dominic clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, gripping the hilt of the dagger and driving its silver tip it into the back of the man's hand. a wail of horror and shrieks of pain came from the man when he realized his hand was pinned to the floor. if he moved an inch, it would rip his hand apart. "i told you we had more time. it's rude to abruptly leave like you just tried to do." he spoke giddily, a grin crossing his face when trickles of blood slid down the man's hand, causing a puddle of the crimson colored liquid to form beneath his limp fingers. "here, i have an idea. i'll choose a number, one through ten. if you choose the number i'm thinking of, i'll let you go. if not, i'll chop your fingers off!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands once. "how does that sound to you?"

"w-what i-if i don't?" the man hissed in pain when dominic tugged at the dagger that was plunged into the side of stomach.

"i can always rip this dagger out and let you bleed to death." dominic shrugged, "i like both options. it's all up to you now!" he tilted his head to the side expectantly, drumming his fingers on the ground next to him. "well? you have five seconds to decide."

"i'll choose a n-number!" the man exclaimed, relief flooding through his body when dominic let go of the dagger that was basically keeping him alive. he had a chance with the number. if he chose the right one, he could get out of here! he could see his girlfriend again. he could eat the cookies his mom always sent home. he could go play cards with his buddies, and maybe get a new dog too.

"good choice." dominic nodded, tapping his chin in thought. "got a number! i want to add a new rule. if you pick the wrong number, that's going to be the number of fingers i chop off."

the man nodded shakily. what could possibly be the number that could get him out of here? what was this twisted man thinking of. "...six?"

dominic's eyes lit up in joy. "wrong!"

the man's eyes widened and he started to tremble, whimpers escaping him when dominic left and returned with an axe. "no, please no! i'm sorry, please let me go! i want to go home!"

dominic sighed, "you're the one that wanted to play." in one, swift movement, he brought the axe down as blood splattered across the floor of the warehouse. the dark colored blood seemed to blend into the dark gray, but still left stains and ideas of more horrible things to come. the man bit his lip in an attempt to not throw up when he saw his fingers splayed across the cold, dusty warehouse ground.

"now you have another chance, i'm not changing my number! if you guess wrong, i'll chop your arms and legs off." dominic suggested, tapping the man's arms and legs. "or you can always die now."

he had to get out. he had to. the man winced, turning away from the gruesome sight of his bloodied hand. it looked more like a stump, and he was sure the psychopath in front of him would gladly make it an actual stump. "i-i'll do it. i'll choose another number." he still had a chance. of he focused, he'd get out. "n-nine?"

"wrong!" dominic chimed, grabbing the axe again. he positioned it over the man's right leg, his eyes flickering from the man's face, back to the axe.

"you goddámn psychopath! don't do it!" the man screeched, shaking his head as his eyes wildly darted from the axe to his leg. "don't hurt me anymore! i don't want to be here!"

dominic ignored him, bringing the axe down onto his leg as a sickening crack echoed against the walls of the warehouse. the man let out an agonizing scream, hot tears rocketing down his face when the axe chopped his leg off. dominic moved to the other leg, doing the same with the two arms as each scream from the man became worse with every hit. "it's not fun to play when you call me names. i wanted to give you another chance." dominic sighed, "but i guess not."

"no, no, i'm sorry! i didn't mean it!" the man managed to say through painful sobs. he still had a chance. he could always be in a wheelchair. his girlfriend would stay with him, right? his buds still wanted to play cards with him, right?

"last chance!" dominic sung gleefully, the axe resting in his pale hands.

the man prayed to everything and everyone he believed in that his last assumption would be correct. "five?"

dominic was quiet. had the man done it? did he save himself? the man looked up with narrowed eyes when dominic began to sing. "twinkle, twinkle, little star." he started in a melodious voice, stepping forward, adjusting the axe in his arms. "how i wonder, what you are." his voice dropped down an octave when he sang the next line, "hanging on a tree by a rope, wrapped around your neck—stabbed in the throat." he lined his axe with the man's head.

the man realized he had picked the wrong number. "no, wait! i meant seven, or three!" he tried to inch away, but dominic had placed his foot on the man's stomach, holding him in place.

"twinkle, twinkle, little star." dominic grinned down at the man, his voice returning to the melodious tone from before. "how i wonder, what you are." he didn't hesitate for even a split-second when he brought the axe down, digging into the man's forehead. the man's body fell limp right after, and his blood splattered across dominic's face. the 20-year old, dark-haired man stepped back, admiring his work. it was a bit messy, but he'd get someone to clean it up and be quiet about it. he brought his sleeve to his face, dragging it down his cheek to get rid of the bloodstains, starting to walk away. but he felt that he should say something to the dead man before he left, so he did.

"my number was eight."