Scion

7. Oblivion

DISCLAIMER:This chapter might be a bit graphic so read with caution. Depends on if you're squeamish or not.

Harper's POV

My throat burned and my chest ached. The minute the curly haired boy left another man walked in.

He was tall, and wore a sadistic grin on his face, with him, he hauled a bag and as I prepared myself for the coming night I noticed a glint of steel in it.

The man was an embodiment of death. For one he stank, like dead meat and blood. He wore clothes that looked like they hadn't ever been washed and his knuckles were permanently red.

The man never spoke, not one word the whole night. Instead he kept that same sadistic smile on his face. He reminded me of my father in that way.

He began my torture by sitting in the chair that Sonny had previously occupied, making my stomach churn, once seated he began to slowly unpack the contents of his bag and carefully lay them on the floor as if they were his most prided possessions. He looked at each one of them before he laid them on the floor, making sure they were in perfect condition, ready to use... on me.

As the man went through his bag I noticed that he had an abundance of knives. I wasn't as familiar with knives as I was with guns because father didn't believe in getting close to the enemy when you could do a better job at a distance.

When he was finished he looked me square in the eye and  reached to the floor flung one of the knives through the bars of my cell past my leg and into the brick wall.

I smirked then, it was impressive to see the man get the knife through the bars of the cell, however he hadn't hit me, he'd missed.

However just as I began to gain confidence that my injuries wouldn't be as bad is I thought, the man's grin changed, matching my smirk. Only then did I feel the blood dripping down my leg as the knife throw had been so precise that I had managed to cut through my clothing and tear at my skin. Looking down I assessed the small gash. It bled a lot but it wasn't serious.

That was the mans equivalent of a warning shot, a trial, and I had already failed at the first hurdle.

The man the walked up to the bars separating us before something unusual. He licked the bars. All the dirt and grime moving onto his pink tongue before his expression changed. He looked as if he savored the taste. As if it were a great delicacy.

I was disgusted, but as I watched the man palm his back pocket reaching for an iron key and turning the lock and seeing the heavy door swung open, fear surpassed the disgust.

He walked towards me, heavy boots making impressions on the dusty floor. I didn't even notice he had brought three other knives with him clutching them by the blades in his palm as his blood bubbled and dropped to the floor.

The man kneeled beside me as I struggled against the chains holding me in position, desperate to leave.

Slowly he held one of the knives to my chin forcing my head upwards so I had to look him in the eye. Tracing another knife down my stomach.

I felt tears began to gather in my eyes but I forced them away, this man would not see me cry. I slowed my breathing before closing my eyes, preparing myself.

Suddenly, I no longer felt his looming presence directly over me, opening my eyes and noticing he had stood and taken a few steps backwards. 

I thought he had perhaps changed his mind.

My second mistake.

The man perhaps sensed my hope, and ended it with a swift kick to my stomach making me double over in pain.

He kept kicking me, until I could barely breath. I couldn't see anymore, my vision overtaken by dark clouds of nothingness. My ears were pounding, each time he kicked me it was as if more pressure was put on my head. I coughed and coughed and coughed. Chunky red liquid spewing out of my mouth hitting his shoe. His smile broadened as he brought his foot down for another swift kick to my gut.

The pain coursed through me, everything hurt even though he had not moved away from that one spot on my body.

As I lay on the floor I barely registered when he stopped kicking me. I did notice however when he turned me onto my back. I felt him slowly sit down, straddling me.

That's when I screamed. I felt everything.

I felt all the little pebbles that dig into my abdomen as both of our weights caused my bruised stomach to press to the floor and I felt the knife press into my back when he did.

He slowly sunk his knife into the muscles of my shoulders. I felt it slice along my left shoulder, eliciting another scream as I felt it scrape across the bone.

He continued, whenever he picked up the knife and I thought he'd finished, he just plunged it back into my back as if he wanted to give me hope. He tore into my muscles, the blood flooding out of each knew wound he made. I wondered if I would bleed out. If that night would be my last.

The man carried on, he didn't stop. Not once, for the whole night. At some point I had gone unconscious only to be woken up by each knew cut he made.

My back pulsed as if it had a mind of its own, I was too hot.
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When I next woke up I was on my own, I sighed in relief, realizing the man had left before noticing that I couldn't move. Everything hurt, and I couldn't move. I didn't feel tied down but my body refused to listen to my commands.

So I was trapped laying on the dirty floor of a dark cell in a foreign place.

I closed me eyes once again praying that I wouldn't wake up so that I would never have to face living ever again.

I took deep calming breaths, easing into oblivion.