A date unknown, a lost hour, and a missing day, in an unknown place... It's an unreasonable matter!!

If you feel that you are an unimportant person in this universe... it's a painful, hurtful, and sad matter!! You can say whatever descriptions of misery you want, but the ember only hurts the person who steps on it. If you have experienced it, you will understand; if you haven't, you will avoid it. In my life, I was never the first choice, nor the first refuge... I was always a stranger who evaded attention and avoided those around me. I walk through life like a stagnant valley, with no movement or direction, just waiting for the winds; if they come, then welcome, and if they leave, then damn. Who am I without the winds... but a stagnant valley with my water.

A pitch-blackness, a piercing pain, and it became difficult for me to breathe. Where am I? Where have I become? Why is this world so dark? Is it the afterlife? And a feeling of prickling on my cheek; what’s wrong with me? Have I become my grandfather? He was with a sharp beard that could even hurt a virgin in her bed, what’s wrong with you, Danny? Has that old man become mortal? Let him turn this way and that way in hell without fatigue, and you point at him and say, "This is my grandfather," smile at him and tell him, "This is the price of my toil." It's a funny thing; what's wrong with me? I remember my grandfather... Is my time with the reaper approaching? But it's just a sack on my face... I've suffocated, and who will remove it from me? Even my hands are tied. Damn those who threw me in this situation. Do they know that this person is suffering? Where are you, people? Even there’s cloth in my mouth and a mask on my face. No sight, no mouth, and no hands... they’ve disabled my senses. How can I run when my feet are tied to my feet? Have I fallen victim to my thoughts, or is it due to my misfortunes?

A little while later, I hear someone talking nearby: "Oh my God, how exhausting it was! I didn’t know the boss wanted a handsome guy... Is he one of those people?" What!! Was my kidnapping to become an ashtray for someone? I feel dizzy even while lying on the ground from this heavy news. Another voice said, "Hey kid, hand me that knife... Hurry up, or do you want another punch in your other eye to wake you up, fool?" It seems this won't end well; an ashtray and a knife... it's a sad affair.

Rustling from here and there, and the sound of moaning... Okay, it seems something bad is happening here. Thinking about it, is it logical for this to happen to me? I mean, a marginalized and lonely person kidnapped for... I don’t know. Thinking about it makes me want to cry and hit myself. Even in this difficult condition, I’m lying down and tied up. I can’t think about it... I mean, being an ashtray is inevitable; a prominent doctor—oh, the irony.

Footsteps began to come closer, and the moaning still rises. I'm still convincing myself that I’m in a nightmare and it will end now. Something crashed beside me, followed by a muffled scream of pain. I swear it’s a human body. I felt the warmth of this body rising next to me. It’s really human. How, where, and why? Is this really my fate beside this human body: death, destruction, and the flow of my blood?

"Damn you, you fool! Be gentle; we don’t want the blood to clot or any bruises to appear on the body. Clean work equals original craftsmanship." I’m sure I heard the sound of a slap, and I don't know where it came from after that rebuke. After a short time that didn’t exceed three minutes, I felt fingertips exploring my face. Well, that was what I needed. What now? What’s next? "Listen, is flawless skin without blemishes a trait of a lecherous doctor?" He followed it with a loud laugh that deafened me for seconds. "Lecherous." In truth, you who touched my face do not believe it; I've been going from home to work and back. If I needed something, whether it was supplies or luxuries, I went to the nearest store in the neighborhood. "Don’t talk too much; untie him!" A voice came from one direction, annoyed. I don’t know where I am or how to identify how many are here. I took a deep breath after having the mask removed from my mouth. Oh my God, how long has it been since I breathed this way?

"It seems he’s exaggerating."

"Apparently."

Exaggerating... apparently. You are harsh. Have your hearts become a desert that changes only with the seasons, and the verses of night and day? What’s wrong with my hands and feet and eyes, or is this part of the show that I’m left like this? "Where's the knife, you damned Arthur?" One of them shouted from above me in a coarse voice. Well, it seems it’s indeed a show. "Bring it... you fool! It seems you actually wanted a punch on your other eye." And he began to pound him heavily, muffled by the subject of the called Arthur. I felt a hand gripping my tied wrists and something cold on my skin. Ah, it’s definitely the knife. He was sharpening the knife on that rope whose shape and color I don't know, but the heat from the knife’s friction was burning my hands... It’s extremely painful!!

“Sam, you’re a fool... you’re no different from Arthur in anything!”

“Fool!!” He stopped for a moment sharpening the rope that burned my skin with the pressure.

“Yes, a lot!”

“A lot... Why?” he asked.

“The knife is for meat, not for the rope. Look over there; the scalpel is in that cardboard box in the car's bag... take it and give me the knife.” Apparently, he gave him the scalpel. Well, there was something scheming here.

“Present... hey, John.”

“It’s not John, it’s Jonathan! Truly a fool!!” He chuckled an awkward laugh I ever heard in my life; it was overly neat for a laugh, too. Jonathan has a melodious name and a sweet laugh. Should he intrigue my interest to this degree that I have never seen his face? Oh God, Danny, he is a kidnapper, and he’s likely a killer too. Everyone is laughing and tossing insults, even the mentally ill and psychologically disturbed; no exceptions.

I finally felt freedom. I could move unbound now after cutting all those ropes. “Okay, Arthur, untie what’s on his eyes,” spoke the voice of the one called Jonathan. I felt someone step towards me; it seems to be Arthur. I felt his hands untying what was on my head and completely removing it from my face. You might say that Danny is delusional, but I felt the light enter my eyes as if you gaze at the sun without blinking. But my reality is dark night and dense gloom.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I lowered my gaze to meet my eyes with a bloody face, marked with a profound sadness. Out of respect for his closeness to me, it’s Arthur, that boy with the blue file earlier. His face is sculpted; his features are calm and sharp at the same time, with defined and thick eyebrows. His eyes are beautiful, soft, hazel with a hint of green; one has a blue bruise, and the other has an old bruise, visibly showing two days' worth of blood vessel sedimentation under his eyes. His nose is bleeding, indicating he was recently beaten, and his lips have some dried blood. Oh boy, what makes you remain like this at this age? I say this and I’m sure of it; he’s in his prime and wasting his life on such dangerous matters.

“Oh God, good morning, Mr. Johnson. How was your nap? I’m happy to see you regained consciousness,” he spoke cheerfully yet mockingly. I turned my gaze towards the familiar voice. Damn, it’s the one who smashed my skull with a baseball bat. You’d think it’s a scary matter, but it’s Jonathan. He got really close to me. His features emerged; perfect skin without blemishes—that’s one. Two, almond-shaped eyes large with long lashes, a harmoniously structured face... He looks perfect. Damn him! He seems to possess an unbreakable personality due to the defiant look in his eyes, and the way he talks comes from a source of power.

“Alright, are you done staring? Wonderful, your eyes pierced my face like lightning; those gaze should be saved for what your eyes will face for the rest of this night, Mr. Johnson.” He moved quickly with the flashlight toward my sight, and I covered my eyes with my hands as I was blinded completely. I don't have the courage to deal with the insane for the rest of my life.

“Now, you might be wondering why you were kidnapped, right? You are a gem and must be preserved due to your talent, Mr. Johnson!! ... You might think it’s nonsense, but the boss saw in you what he didn’t see in anyone.” With a clear tone of threat in his dark eyes, he is intimidating.

I recoiled, my essence devoured. He read my pulse, my giving, weak personality, and asked, “So... what is it that you want?” He straightened up and took two steps back. He gestured with the flashlight behind me. Instinctively, I turned my face away to avoid being blinded again, but I heard a muffled laugh from him. He is a devil without a doubt, heartless and enjoys torturing.

I turned back toward the direction of his flashlight, and my eyes widened in shock at the horror of the scene. My shock today was two-fold—there she is, Ms. Lam, beside her, stripped of clothing, gasping in pain, tied from all sides, and tears dried in her eyes, and there’s more: cloth in her mouth. I scanned her entire beautiful, clean body. This body is desired by every man beneath her. I can’t blame the men at work; they were taking turns with her to see who’s more fit to do it, and she only consented to the fewest. But I was the only one she had approached. If I had accepted, I wouldn’t have lost; it would have been a wonderful event, better than this shameful incident.

My eyes met her icy blue eyes; well, this was the first time in my life I saw this woman with such beauty throughout those four years. Was she like this before, or had I been cloudy in my vision without realizing? As if I hadn’t realized before, my hand found its way to her cheek. “Don’t look at me like that with such grief; we are in this together.” Her gaze was painful and sorrowful at what she faced. My hand moved from her cheek to her chest, my gaze was scrutinizing and revealing toward her in wonder; she’s beautiful! I continued to touch and caress until I stopped midway due to the sound of that frightening Jonathan.

“Wow, this forest is very large, Mr. Johnson! Do you want us to go ahead and achieve what you desire?” I turned to him; I’m afraid, swallowed hard, and then added, “Why is this woman here?” My hand was still on Olivia's torso, trembling with fear. He tilted his head in surprise, “She is the merchandise!!” I asked, “Merchandise... what do you mean? I don’t understand.” He stepped forward and placed his hands on my face; the flashlight remained in his hand, and he added, making a cute face, “Meaning we want her parts.”

My eyes widened; my lips trembled; tears filled my eyes. What is this day? Why?

I pushed him with all my strength, standing up and attempting to run; I wanted to escape all of this. But that action was a reckless folly; in mere seconds, my body crashed onto the snow-covered ground. I tried to stand up, but it was useless; my body wouldn’t assist. I heard his delicate laugh closing in on me in the darkness—it’s terrifying, my heartbeats won't cease from fear.

I felt his long fingers on my shoulder, rolling me onto my back, and he took a knee on top of me and started punching me madly with deadly fists without stopping. I saw the colors of the spectrum, clouds, and the sun in this pitch-black darkness. I felt my tears streaming down copiously on my cheeks, and I would bet it’s mixed with my blood, the taste of my blood was like iron in my mouth; I was numbed from the severity of his beating. He struck me endlessly without tiring, and in between his breaths, "scoundrel," and "rascal" escaped his lips; he released me and stood up above me. My eyes met his; they were icy with no life, hollow, void of the spirit that should nourish them. It was a quarter of an hour of punches; I no longer felt my face, and I’m convinced my features have been erased from existence.

“Patrick, strip him of his work clothes!” he remained standing above me. That Patrick appeared from nowhere and mumbled, “Present,” while this Jonathan stepped back, and Patrick began to remove my white work coat, helping me to stand, and we moved toward Olivia. I didn’t actually move; I was running around like a fool in front of them searching for lost freedom, and this crimson-haired Patrick helped me sit beside her.

He was glamorous in beauty. I closed my eyes reluctantly. My eyes were swollen from the beating and pained me severely, “I cannot... I cannot do it!” “Come on, Mr. Johnson, what did you say? Proceed or lose!” I lifted my gaze to him; he was breathing heavily from the severity of hitting me. He tangled his hair with his hands, licked his lips, widened his eyes more than before, and stressed his words: “Advance or lose.” He stepped toward me and lowered himself; “Either now or never.” His words were a blend of threat wrapped in a request. He added, “Seriously!! You are an excellent surgeon. Cutting meat is the same everywhere, and don't tell me you think you’re under an upscale doctor title; please spare me?” His words were more of disdain than ridicule. I just followed him with my gaze, motionless; weakness overtook me.

“Hey, Leo, bring that bag immediately!!” he commanded in a firm voice. That Leo hurried, opened the bag full of surgical tools before me, “Look, Mr. Johnson, aren’t they shiny and beautiful?” He took one of those tools and added, “Aren’t they as attractive as mermaids?” and brought it closer to my face, “What do you think?” I moved my hand towards the scalpel he held and grasped it. He smiled at me, “Does this mean your acceptance, Mr. Johnson?" I looked at Ms. Lam; she was stunned and shocked at the same time, fighting, crying, and screaming muffled due to the cloth on her mouth, seeking help hoping someone would respond, but there’s no rescue; it’s your certain fate, and I looked back at him and nodded in approval. It was indeed a very difficult and necessary decision!!

Here, it’s life or death, no gray area, just black and white; the strong live, and the weak are crushed.