I never thought I would be in a situation like this; I guess no one ever does. My arms are shackled to the wall behind me while my legs are bound together with coarse rope. The blood pooling around my legs has already completely soaked my jeans. The worst thing is that the crimson liquid staining my skin does not even belong to me, it belongs to my parents. When I get out of here, if I ever get out of here, these jeans will be the first things to go. The sound of a jarred door refusing to open shakes me from my thoughts. A tall figure stands in the doorway, a brittle smile etched into their face.
Walking toward me she snarls, “I know you’re awake.”
Refusing to look up, I keep my eyes steadily on my tied legs; evidently not satisfied with my choice my captor slams a right hook into my jaw.
“Go to Hell,” I spit, blood already filling my mouth.
‘Tsking’ she grabs my face, “Didn’t Daddy teach you any better? He would be so mad … too bad he’s dead.”
Instinctively my eyes travel over to the corpse of my father, my breath catching in my raw throat, a small whimper escaping my lips. What did I do to deserve this? Why us? Why them? My father’s eyes are wide open with his arms stretched out towards my mother’s lifeless body. Returning my attention back to the person in front of me I see that their other hand is no longer empty, in her clenched hand I see the gleaming blade of a kitchen knife. Their hand moves upwards to now cover my mouth.
Growling, she inches the blade closer towards me, “You better stay quiet, bitch.”
The sharp tip of the blade easily cuts through my sweater making direct contact with the flesh of my stomach.
One cut.
I clench my teeth as the blade cuts the flesh of my stomach like a hot knife through butter.
Two cuts.
Warm blood spills over my taut stomach, staining my ghostly skin crimson.
Three cuts.
A scream of agony escapes my lips. It feels as if tongues of fire are licking at my dripping wound.
Four cuts.
The knife is dropped with an echoing thud. “I hate you,” I pant, my breaths now shallow. With a final kick to my stomach she begins to leave the room. Just before leaving she turns around back around to face me before saying, “Lucky for you the feeling’s mutual.”
.jpg)
