will the torture ever cease?

Published by caity lloyd in the blog caity lloyd's blog. Views: 116

Drip, drip, drip something somewhere behind me was leaking and annoyingly so. I tried to turn but the corse rope, that was tied to the end of my flaming red ponytail, snagged taught making my neck pop audibly. Grimacing, I looked directly ahead, my eyes burning in to the back of the man taking so much pride in his horrid work as he stood shapening the blades he planned to use in some way or another.
I had been sitting on the same hard wooden chair for over four days now. With the same very rough hessian cord tied tightly around my wrists and ankles making it impossible for me to move. The same rag stuffed in my mouth stuffing my tounge back into my thoat making me gag alot but having not eaten much, except a few small cereal bars but they got used up trying to heal my err my injuries, there was nothing to bring up as it were.
A deep, throaty laugh emminated from the far side of the 'room' he spun on his heel and strode towards me and massive grin streching his old, wrinkled skin more. The small, slim blade glinting in what little light there was. Suddlenly his chortling cut short but the grin remained and a playful glint appeared in his eyes. The sound of his footsteps echoed from the bare stone walls. He stopped a few feet infront of me. Still grinning like a mad man. He held the blade out before me showing it to me inch by inch. He stepped forward. Just once. He twisted the blade slowly towards my cheek as he had countless times before. He changed his mind and started moving the blade down to my arm.
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  • caity lloyd
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