Quick note!
This book is written in switching povs. I'm still working on my writing, and have a few dark themes in my books. I always put trigger warnings on chapters to warn my readers. This is my first time trying out Royalroad, so I would like to make one thing very clear; I don't actually write sexually explicit content. Many of my writing have a reader with a bad past, and this reader just so happened to have been r-ped when she was younger -not anything below 18, so she sometimes has flashbacks. However, I never go into detail about what happens, I just checked the box to let people know, "Hey this may have a few things dealing with sexual stuff," but this is to clarify why I checked the box!
Radio
Definition: The activity or industry of broadcasting sound programs to the public
3rd person, ??????? pov
Chapter warnings: Gore
"Good morning New Orleans!" A female voice rings out of the newly turned-on radio, the station crackling softly with static. Although her voice is cheerful, it's a pleasant change. The softness of her voice contrasts slightly with the one of a male on the next channel who comes on later in the day. "I hope you're all having a wonderful day so far! This is Yn Magne, clocking in for today on the radio!"
A man had turned on the radio, expecting music, only to halt what he was doing when her voice meets his ears. Her voice was quite nice to the man, but also surprising to hear. He walks over to the radio, kneeling to fiddle with the knobs.
"I ho- ev-one- vi- a won-" The static and crackling chops her voice in and out, until he's able to hear her clearly. "-darlings! As always, Mondays will be our little updates and news day of the week!"
'A new radio host?' The female, Yn, continues talking, oblivious to the attention she's caught from her newest listener. 'This should be fun...' The man's crooked, wicked smile grows wider, amusement filling him.
The radio's volume is turned up before the male stands up, walking over to pull a beaded string hanging from the ceiling. With a small 'Click' the lights flicker on, illuminating the room in a soft orange glow. A basement is revealed as the surrounding room.
Hunting knives, tools, rope, traps, shotguns, etc. lay dormant on one side of the room, a specific knife set apart from the others. Soft whimpers and sobs come from the opposing corner of where the man walks to.
The voice on the radio becomes mere background noise -a pleasant background noise- as the man picks up the glistening isolated knife. The person in the corner sobs louder, pleas for mercy muffled as they fall upon deaf ears and disinterest,
"A-Al, please..." Whimpers from the sobbing man come out, a man's name uttered in the pleading. The man with the knife, now labeled as "Al", turns to the pleading man, smiling as he looks over what he's deemed as the 'lesser man'. Al's name is muffled, a gag cutting off the sobbing one's words.
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The sobbing man wears ragged clothes, dirty from fresh and dried blood across them, nearly entirely soaked. The man's hair is a firey orange, long since matted and messy. Clumps of dried blood and scabs decorate his body heavily. Tear marks stream down his face, fresh tears pooling from his sky-blue eyes which are bloodshot and puffy. The man's skin is pale from his lack of sunlight and heavy blood loss. When he moves, chains can be heard dragging along the ground; attached to his arms, legs, and even one around his neck.
"Hmm?" Al steps closer to the man, causing him to cower and shrink back. "I couldn't quite hear you, my 'friend'!" The gag is suddenly snatched down by nothing visible. "Would you mind repeating yourself?" Al's smile widens as the heel of his shoes click and tap across the ground when he walks.
"A-Al..." The man's voice is hoarse, neglected by constant torture and lack of water. Al simply smiles wider, walking back to the radio and turning it up. The female's voice is soft and soothing, causing the unfortunate male to focus on that. He doesn't want to think about his soon-to-be demise.
"On other news, it seems the Louisiana Killer may have struck again!" Al pauses for a moment, before raising the knife to the other man's chest, causing him to flinch. "Town butcher, Mike ____, has been reported missing to the officials." The blue-eyed man's eyes shoot open and flick over to the radio, a glimmer of hope in them. This disappears when Al begins to chuckle, playing with the knife gracefully as he twirls it in his fingers.
The knife nicks Mike a few times, causing his breath to grow labored with panic.
"Police ask if you have anything that may help, to please contact them."
Endless torture is all Mike feels by now, repeatedly being forced to watch whom he thought was a friend, as they carve him alive, only to pass out and repeat. How many times had he been on the brink of death, only to be brought back? Senconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days... How long has he been here? He can't quite remember himself...
Mike lets out a gagged gurgle as the knife is plunged into his chest, aimed at the heart. It hit between two ribs perfectly in precision to bypass them...
"On the brighter side, the missing child, Octavia ___, was found alive and healthy, and returned to her family!"
Al watches Mike closely, gauging his reaction. He lets out a low growl as Mike's eyes glaze over slightly.
"Stay awake! It's rude to ignore someone, you know!" Al's smile becomes more passive-aggressive as he grabs a handful of Mike's hair, pulling back.
The female radio host continues with more cheerful news, trying to keep her listeners in an optimistic mood.
Mike goes to speak but is cut off by a choked cry in pain as Al twists the knife slowly.
"Goodbye, my dear fellow!" These are the last words he hears as everything goes black.
Throughout the house, the only sounds are the cutting and sawing of meat with the radio as white noise.
Al walks over to the radio again, covered in red as he smiles, listening to the female talk.
"I don't quite remember her introduction name..." He shrugs softly, "Oh well. See you around, little miss Radio..."