My Killer

Damaged Beauty

My fingers shook as Michael forced my thumb and index finger to grab ahold of the large sowing-needle which lay on the table right in front of us. The monster had already pre-threaded the needle with a thick black wire. I guess he already knew that the disruptive movement of my hand was bound to make the simple feat of making me thread a needle when he also had to forcefully hold my trembling frame in place all but impossible to accomplish, so he had planned ahead accordingly.

Michaels free hand slid around my stomach from behind, holding me firmly in place against his torso as he forced my body to turn with his own. He forced me to keep turning until I saw her, Grace.

No...

The whites of Grace's eyes were screaming at me as Michael herded my body in her direction, to inch closer and closer to the quietly sobbing girl. She wasn't screaming at us like she had been doing anymore. No, she was attempting to shake her head from side to side as her wide-open eyes begged us not to do this, but her head could barely move at all in their strapped confines. I didn't want to do this either, because I, like Grace, knew just what was coming next. Michael had told us what would happen if the screaming nuisance didn't shut her trap soon, Grace hadn't listened, and now the consequences were suddenly all too real.

Please... don't make me do this...

Please...

I tried to pull my hand back, but Michael's arm, the one he had taped to mine, directed it steadily forward instead, it forced me to close the distance between the crying girl and the needle I held. Michael wouldn't allow me to drop the damned needle either. No, the bastard had become tired of Graces screaming alright, and the sudden silence from the girl, after Michael had professed his crazed plans, did nothing to halt his unyielding hand. No, he had set this fucked up plan in stone, her sudden silence would not change the outcome in any way. Michael would make me sew the previously screaming girl's mouth shut. He would make me silence her in the most horrific way, he would make me silence the girl who tried to show him that she had finally learned her lesson by keeping deathly quiet. But none of that mattered, because his larger hand had molded around my smaller one and forced me to keep ahold of that needle. Dropping it was not an option. This was going to happen regardless of how pliant Grace had suddenly become.

Please...

My breath came out in fast shallow puffs, eerily similar to the wide-eyed girl before me, to Grace, as I watched the needle press against the soft skin of her upper lip. The tip of the needle made the skin dent inwards under the pressure, yet it wasn't even close to breaking. Michael had decided to use a dull needle. One so dulled down that jabbing it against your finger by mistake wouldn't break the skin. No, you had to use a lot of pressure to make that happen. The nasty fucker had apparently planned to make this as painful as humanly possible, even the tiniest details he had put into all of this served some sort of purpose, even such a small gesture as putting a dulled down needle in my hand. The thought of how much force you would need to exert to be able to break through skin with this pointed weapon made my stomach hurt.

The bastard was playing games, he was making me choose between being a passive bystander or being an active player in his wicked game. Either option was shit. Either I passively let Micheal apply the pressure to the needle all by himself and let it be a slow horrid torture for Grace, or I could be an active player in his game and ram the needle through her lips of my own volition, and save Grace from the slow torturous pain of letting Michael do it his way. I could choose to hurt her quickly by my own hand, I could rip off the bandaid in a sense, or I could let Michael use forever. I had tasted his forever before, it was a hell I didn't wish upon my worst enemy, and yet moving my hand had never been this hard. I just couldn't do it.