A/N: TRIGGER WARNING! CONTAINS GORE, VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC IMAGERY, AND MORE. READ WITH CAUTION!!!
Conan
The scent of raw, metallic blood filled my nostrils, making me cringe as soon as I woke to the toxic fumes. Even though my eyes finally opened, they were greeted with nothing but the same familiar view I had been previously treated with.
Darkness.
It caused my skin to flinch, forcing my cheek to rise and use my senses to feel around my eyes. A piece of fabric covered my eyes so tightly that I hadn't even felt the cloth beforehand. I wiggled my arms and legs, discovering I was tied up. My limbs were attached to a plain chair. It wasn't chilled like a normal metal would be, so I automatically assumed that it was wood.
I took a deep breath before I started frantically kicking around and trying to lift my arms, attempting to loosen the rope around me or removing it completely. My limbs kept moving until I felt a sudden change in gravity. The chair pulled my body along as I crashed onto the ground backwards, my head colliding with the rough, wooden backing.
Goosebumps trailed along my skin when I understood just how much noise I had made. I had been trying to keep my volume down in case my captor was nearby.
And just as these thoughts flooded through my brain, I heard footsteps approach me. They sounded almost wet, as if they were walking along a path paved by a moist liquid. Judging by the odor, I could only assume that this fluid is blood.
My throat ran dry as the steps became even more clear to my partially covered ears.
A hand starts caressing my neck, their thumb poking at my skin and causing me to flinch with discomfort. I take a gulp, wanting to attack so desperately but knowing I'm unable to do so in my current trapped state.
"Why are you doing this," I mutter as the rough hand removes itself from my skin. A few moments pass with no response and my insides become even more terrified by the second.
They start poking my skin with dramatic pressure, leaving the touched parts moist and warm. My mouth gasps, parting wide when I realize what they are doing. I feel my eyelids grow heavy, threatening to spill out tears.
They are giving me small, finger-shaped dots, stamped by another's blood.
"How long have I been here!?" I cry out. "Where are my friends!? Who are you!?" I shake on the ground, the ropes not even remotely moving as the chair shifts with my tired body weight. I feel my tears collect in the cloth, making it wet with the moisture of my sorrow.
"TELL ME!" I shout, my voice screaming so loudly that I hear my own echo. All I hear in response is a deep, bone-chilling chuckle no more than five yards away.
They see I'm desperate. They see I'm scared. They see I'm vulnerable.
They see I'm slowly crumbling.
But it's not like my captor ever cared In the first place. It's not like they would be willing to suddenly free me from this hell when they, the embodiment of an unholy demon itself, have put me here.
Instead, the splashing finally resumes and I stop throwing my body around desperately. The chair is slowly raised, sitting me upright as my legs fall to the ground by gravity's pull. I choose not to move out of utter terror.
One... ten... thirty... seventy...
I count the seconds of utter quiet.
Instantaneously, my mouth finally parts as I feel a tingling sense of cold rush down my leg. For a brief moment, I feel numb to the abrupt touch, but my exposed interior flesh breathes. It cries out, causing my explosive screams to fill the air around me.
The pain caused by a jagged blade doesn't stop until it's reached all parts of my leg, leaving a trail from my thigh down to my very smallest toe.
I give up on screaming; my whole body feels numb in shock and terror as the only sense I have now is the ability to hear every moment and feel the oozing red substance slide down my skin and onto the floor beneath.
And finally... I stopped feeling anything in general as my head fell to the side of my shoulder with one swift and limp motion.
"Now we can be twins...," A recognizable voice whispers into my ear horrifically, but I don't respond. I don't feel the goosebumps I would have felt before. I don't scream or cry.
I just stay still, wishing for this pain to end. Wishing for them to finish their torture so this suffering can stop.
Not only the suffering on my body, but the inward torment I feel when I recognize the captor's voice.
The feminine ring of my severed-legged friend is the last thing crossing my mind before I lose all emotion and feeling, allowing an even deeper pigmented darkness take it's place inside my soul.
_
A/N
Sweet dreams...
***FACT: I want to be an esthetician when I get older.
How was this chapter? Horrific enough?
