Post by Dirk Quade on Aug 2, 2008 16:17:54 GMT -5
The bare, barren room was empty save for a cluttered desk and a simple, sturdy steel chair, a large but haggard man slumped in it, his head lolling forwards, his bruised arms tightly bound behind him to the cold steel of the chair. The biting rope cut deep into the man’s fleshy forearms and was lashed about his ribcage holding him upright, yet his chin rested awkwardly down upon his chest. His hair was matted against his forehead slick with sweat, his entire body was coated in a sweat mixed with lighter fluid that dripped off of the small of his back, forming a small puddle beneath his feet, that were too strapped tightly to the legs of the chair. Even in his wearied light sleep the man shivered uncontrollably, partly through fear, and partly because of the cold.
The flimsy wooden door flew open on squealing hinges slamming against the plastered wall, coated in various goading designs of graffiti. The man jerked awake eyes widening in panic he squirmed in his bindings as soft footfalls entered the room, pacing closer, shivering the man visibly tried to steel himself and stare resolutely ahead, but as hot breath tickled the hairs of his neck he flinched uncontrollably. “I’ll tell you everything,” he screamed quickly, his words tumbling out and falling over themselves in his haste, “just don’t hurt me anymore,” he whinged, his voice breaking as he cowered, eyes blinking furiously sweeping about the room trying to get a look at who was there.
“No more you say,” spoke a cruel voice mockingly, “but I’ve only just started…the fun’s only just beginning.”
“Pl…please,” whispered the bound prisoner fearfully, he could feel the torturer’s breath, hot upon him, as the hairs upon the back of his neck stood on end and sweat seemed to pore from every orifice.
“Tell me what I need to know.” The voice was cold and hard; like the steel he sat upon “...and I mean everything,” the voice whispered snakelike.
“but..”
“No excuses,” roared the voice, screaming into his ear. “You divulge everything” the word was drawn out excruciatingly “…or I keep you on the brink of death for a very loong thyme.” He gulped feeling an overpowering urge to try to struggle to break free, to do anything to escape, he’d sacrifice all if he could just escape this voice.
“Tick..tock…did I not mention?” He left a deliberately long pause when the man was able to murmur something that sounded like what?
“Your family is about to be the victims of a terrrible robbery gone dreadfully wrong…or was it a brutal Lycan attack?” The voice allowed the news to sink in, then continued in his ear, mere centimetres from him, “I can help end this…quickly…just tell me what I need to know…I may even spare your little family; out of the decency of my heart.” The voice was mocking, joking with him, playing with him.
“You’ll burn in hell for this,” he spat. Acting shocked the voice replied dryly,
“Oh my, some balls eh? Why don’t I cut them off for you? They’re being mighty troublesome making you play with the lives of your own family, they hang in the balance yet you remain loyal to a pack of blood sucking vampires?” The voice rose with incredulity at the end, “is it what they’re going to do to you? Will they kill you?” The voice asked innocently turning vicious, “because I will continue to torture you until you tell me where you drop off the vampire’s precious blood.” The voice gave a particular emphasis to the word blood that made the man’s fists clench, he had to escape.
“I grow weary of this,” the voice sounded bored, but then the man’s hope that he’d be left was short lived when the cold edge of a blade rested gently upon his neck. A little pressure was applied making him wince, as blood trickled down his back, he whimpered softly visibly trying to control his fear. “A..at the corner of the Exeter street, the family butchers there!” He blarted out feeling a stab of guilt as he’d betrayed his friends.
“Goood, doesn’t that guilt just feel so crushing…I love it. Knowing that as you died you betrayed your friends and family.”
“Y..you said they’d be safe, that I’d be safe,” he garbled out hurriedly, panic rising.
“I lied,” the voice responded simply, “your death will be agonising and painstakingly slow, I assure you. Don’t you recognise your own blade?” The voice laughed manically as his own butcher’s blade was prodded into him, slashing, but not deep, all across his back making him cry aloud in pain, he felt tears roll down his cheeks as the knife slid across his broken skin again and again, all over his back blood rolled down now in veritable streams, but still not enough to kill him…no death was a long way off for him.
The flimsy wooden door flew open on squealing hinges slamming against the plastered wall, coated in various goading designs of graffiti. The man jerked awake eyes widening in panic he squirmed in his bindings as soft footfalls entered the room, pacing closer, shivering the man visibly tried to steel himself and stare resolutely ahead, but as hot breath tickled the hairs of his neck he flinched uncontrollably. “I’ll tell you everything,” he screamed quickly, his words tumbling out and falling over themselves in his haste, “just don’t hurt me anymore,” he whinged, his voice breaking as he cowered, eyes blinking furiously sweeping about the room trying to get a look at who was there.
“No more you say,” spoke a cruel voice mockingly, “but I’ve only just started…the fun’s only just beginning.”
“Pl…please,” whispered the bound prisoner fearfully, he could feel the torturer’s breath, hot upon him, as the hairs upon the back of his neck stood on end and sweat seemed to pore from every orifice.
“Tell me what I need to know.” The voice was cold and hard; like the steel he sat upon “...and I mean everything,” the voice whispered snakelike.
“but..”
“No excuses,” roared the voice, screaming into his ear. “You divulge everything” the word was drawn out excruciatingly “…or I keep you on the brink of death for a very loong thyme.” He gulped feeling an overpowering urge to try to struggle to break free, to do anything to escape, he’d sacrifice all if he could just escape this voice.
“Tick..tock…did I not mention?” He left a deliberately long pause when the man was able to murmur something that sounded like what?
“Your family is about to be the victims of a terrrible robbery gone dreadfully wrong…or was it a brutal Lycan attack?” The voice allowed the news to sink in, then continued in his ear, mere centimetres from him, “I can help end this…quickly…just tell me what I need to know…I may even spare your little family; out of the decency of my heart.” The voice was mocking, joking with him, playing with him.
“You’ll burn in hell for this,” he spat. Acting shocked the voice replied dryly,
“Oh my, some balls eh? Why don’t I cut them off for you? They’re being mighty troublesome making you play with the lives of your own family, they hang in the balance yet you remain loyal to a pack of blood sucking vampires?” The voice rose with incredulity at the end, “is it what they’re going to do to you? Will they kill you?” The voice asked innocently turning vicious, “because I will continue to torture you until you tell me where you drop off the vampire’s precious blood.” The voice gave a particular emphasis to the word blood that made the man’s fists clench, he had to escape.
“I grow weary of this,” the voice sounded bored, but then the man’s hope that he’d be left was short lived when the cold edge of a blade rested gently upon his neck. A little pressure was applied making him wince, as blood trickled down his back, he whimpered softly visibly trying to control his fear. “A..at the corner of the Exeter street, the family butchers there!” He blarted out feeling a stab of guilt as he’d betrayed his friends.
“Goood, doesn’t that guilt just feel so crushing…I love it. Knowing that as you died you betrayed your friends and family.”
“Y..you said they’d be safe, that I’d be safe,” he garbled out hurriedly, panic rising.
“I lied,” the voice responded simply, “your death will be agonising and painstakingly slow, I assure you. Don’t you recognise your own blade?” The voice laughed manically as his own butcher’s blade was prodded into him, slashing, but not deep, all across his back making him cry aloud in pain, he felt tears roll down his cheeks as the knife slid across his broken skin again and again, all over his back blood rolled down now in veritable streams, but still not enough to kill him…no death was a long way off for him.