Keith wakes up in a small room, unsanitary, dented walls, putrid smell, and a whole lot of metal parts scattered around. He felt for the ground, and couldn’t feel it, panicked, and forced his body to move but felt naught in turn.
His eyes widen, making a futile effort, as his face was numb. Focusing on his ears, he heard…….
Pop
An impact of amalgamated sounds, rushing into his ears, screams of agony intertwined in a dance of gory death. From the moment he woke, something had stopped his hearing, out of mercy or out of spite.
He wanted to scream but he couldn’t scream. For he was already screaming, his eyes looked down to his gaping mouth. In an ugly twist of perspective, he was a part of that haunting and hopeless scream.
“Some would kill just to see and hear but look at you, doing quite the opposite.”
A voice eclipsed the screams, ringing loud in his ears and echoing through his mind. Alluring and enchanting, slow, and methodical, the voice was divine in grotesque shouts of unholy cries.
Silence. None were heard, but the tempo of fluids dripping as a dancing rhythm, making Keith relax and survey his surroundings. His mouth had closed, no longer stretching his face to epic proportions.
Arms and legs are chained, minimal movement from any part of the body except the head. No apparent wounds on my body, not that I can see any on the surface. My clothes covered my body. I am being held in the air by four chains.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
As the door slammed open, hitting the wall, and rattling the hinges that held it. “You finally woke up.” A woman's voice caught my attention and my eyes cocked up, her coat was soaked with blood and her delicate hands held a suitcase. If not for the scene at play, she would be a beauty.
As she skipped through the cramped room following rhythmic drops of fluid, she reached him with the sound of a sickening splat. “One down, nine to go.” she muttered, her voice tinged with a twisted pleasure that filled her face with a crimson blush. Her features contorted into a disturbing smile that betrayed her perverse delight in the situation.
There were more people just like him, and from the way the dropped sounded, the splat that ultimately resounded the death of a fellow human being. His eyes dilated and his breathing unknowingly hitched at what that insinuated.
She surveyed the chains, the room and started poking and prodding around his body. Allowing Keith to feel his sense of touch, but still restricted to his eyes.
Focusing on his arms, she did more than just a cursory glance, she stabbed a needle in and sprayed something in. “What a poor replication of my divine self.” she sneered.
As the skin of his arms started to peel, he caught a glimpse of intricately carved patterns pulsing gold in light before he succumbed to the piercing of pain.
Introspection works best in sleep.