Claude started to wake up, attempting to shake off the groggy fog that hung around him. He muttered to himself, "What the hell happened last night..."
And with that he finally opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was laying slumped over in the corner of a white room, with dried blood lending splotches a rusty hue. Hand prints and smeared lines colored the lower portion of the walls, and Claude took a moment to consider how they came to be before he shuddered in horror and let that thought die.
Claude tried to stand, but he was jerked to a halt by the short chains attached to his ankles. His heart raced, and he started to panic. He was trapped, and he didn't know where he was.
He yawned, shuddering, and reached up to cover his mouth. When he brought his hand down, a dull purple smear colored his tanned skin. With that prompt he began to remember.
He had followed a girl....She found him at the bar. She'd come close and whispered to him. "Come and get me." That's what she'd whispered in his ear, her pale lips had brushed his sandy hair.
After that his memories blurred into a fog, a snippet of him trailing behind her down the street, an average looking kitchen, her bright violet lips pursed...
Then on is just a blur. Claude kicks his legs against the shacles, feeling his skin bruise in what is a futile effort. He sits hunched in a ball, breath coming in pants and fear blazing in his heart.
The dim room becomes slightly brighter as the door creaks open. The girl from last night enters. Claude glances up at her, eyes pleading.
"Ma'am, where am I?" he inquires. "Can you help me?"
Lily smiles, a sweet upturn to her pale lips. "I'll help you out. But first, I think I'd like to play a game."
Claude is puzzled. "What kind of game? And can I just get out of these?"
Lily's smile turns vicious, more like the pretty mouth of a hissing feline. "But thats a part of my game."
Lily moves to stand beside him, and crouches to his level. "Nobody can beat me at my games, Claude. No one wins but me."
From a pocket in her tight fitting jeans Lily produces a short length of silk. In a sharp precise motion, she jabs at Claudes stomach, causing him to flatten out in instinctual pain. She seizes this moment to secure his hands in the silk, and loop it through a ring on the wall intended for the purpose.
Claude groans in pain, then begins thrashing in vain. The silk holds strong, leaving red welts from the friction. "Let me go!" he screams.
Lily giggles, the sound a small child would create during a game of make believe. "That's it. Scream. Struggle. That's what makes these games so fun."
Lily steps back, content for a second just to watch him struggle like some animal in a snare. His body is beautiful, she thinks to herself, so how pretty will it be marred with blood?
Lily gives a small shiver of pleasure at the thought, and tightens the silk so he lays flat and stretched slightly.
Claude's shoulders ache as they are pulled more tightly over his head. Finished with his futile screaming, he now lays still, defeated for a moment.
He opens his eyes to see Lily examining him, occasionally running a hand over his skin, ice against a burning flame. His shirt is torn off, and he is left in his jeans and shoes.
Lily opens a small cabinet fixed into the wall, and returns with something small in her hand.
"Shall we begin, Claude?" Lily sing songs softly.
Before Claude can reply, Lily drags the short razorblade down the center of his abdomen. He screams, and the dainty blade brings glimmering crimson blood to seep from the cut. Lily traces the same path again and again, digging it ever so slightly deeper each time.
The cut dug past the skin, and scraped a shallow gouge in his abdominal wall. The muscle fibers tore, sending sharp bursts of pain through Claude's stomach. It also didn't help that each time he writhed in pain the cut became more jagged, and less of a clean slice.
Soon Lily bored of this routine, and retracted her blood soaked hand from his lacerated tummy. Absently, as if without thought, Lily lightly pressed the edge of the blade to the left of the cut, engraving an elegant spiral slowly into his waiting flesh.
As his screams rose from the tension of the curved cuts, Claude's throat seized and his screams turned to inhuman sounds of torment. He wailed, screeched and cried, incoherently begging for reprieve.
Lily caught a few of his mangled cries. He panted and whined deep in his throat. "Please...Stop...Ah God...."
His pleading just made Lily's joy expand into an equally animalistic fervor. She repeated the spiral cut on the right side of the cut, and made a few small circles by inserting the edge of the blade and twisting it until a scarlet orb of blood surfaced.
Satisfied for the time being. Lily carefully got up, and wiped the blade of the fabric of Claude's jeans before returning it to its place. Before stowing it in th cupboard, she gave it a small kiss, and opened a tiny nick on her icy pale lips.
Licking her lips, Lily turned back to Claude, licking her lips so the tangy ichor would spread like the best of any lipstick.
Claude reopend his eyes after having then squelched shut in agony, and looked down at his stomach. He realized that was a mistake as he gave a cry of pure shock and fear.
The center cut in his stomach was a chasm dripping blood, and it ran in rivulets down either side of his waist. The spirals looked hypnotic in the way the red pooled, and quivered with his sporattic breathing. The orbs of blood had spattered when he cried out , and left marks like spilled paint all over his faintly sun-golden skin.
Lily basked again in the glory of his anguish, she felt alive. Without another word to the mangled boy at her feet, she loosened the silk so he could move slightly, and left the room with a flourish in her step.
