I’m waitin’ on my pills to kick in and make me sleep. So in the meantime, here is what I’m gonna call the shitty ending to one of my short stories, ‘Survival Of The Sickest’. If you haven’t read it, might want to attempt that before continuing on.
It returned to him as he awoke, a massive pulse inside his cranium greeting him once again to living hell. He groaned out and didn’t even register the dull sound of it, not even the hushed whimpering coming from somewhere in the dark. His wrists hurt, too. Much more than when they had been tied together for so long that he festering sores began to appear. This was a different kind of hurt, a biting pain, and then an ache that stretched up his arms to his shoulders.
When the throbbing inside his head began to subside he realized why and the muscles in his naked body quivered with dread. Shackles; hanging by his wrists in shackles and now that he was conscious his feet could just hold up most of his weight. It was pitch dark around him but not from a hood. Somewhere in the dark surroundings he caught the sound of quiet breathing.
Before he could say anything the door he had been led through so many times creaked open, allowing a sparse amount of light to shine in from the building upstairs. That was only to be blocked by the man’s frame as he sauntered down the steps, pulling the door closed behind him.
She awoke to a cold cement floor and the darkness of an enclosed space, head pounding with something like a migraine and her senses too askew to recall what had brought her to this place. And what was this place, exactly? Pushing herself to stand on weak legs, every movement seemed a torment to her muscles, as though they had been abused recently. She still wore her school uniform and smoothed out the pleated skirt before reaching out to find the walls of her enclosure. The feeling of being trapped was stalking closer, breathing down her neck; finally she began to flail her limbs outward in the hopes of finding a door or some other means of escape.
Her breathing was so loud, echoing in the room, that she never noticed the slow and steady breathing coming from the center. Only when a groan reached out through the darkness to her ears did she halt her wild flight from wall to wall and hushed herself with a slight whimpering noise. She was in a corner at that time, and brought herself to crouch down with her back to the joining of cement slabs. A hand clamped over her mouth to keep from making further noise.
Pale green eyes flicked quickly to her right as a door opened from above, revealing with a source of light a set of wooden steps constructed against one wall that led up to the door. Someone was silhouetted against the dim lighting only briefly, the body moved and shut the door, canceling out the light as they did and then walking slowly and easily down the stairs. As soon as the light was gone, whoever or whatever had made that noise in the dark began to moan and move in a way that made metal clank against itself.
The young woman heard a dark chuckle and was suddenly blinded as a naked bulb illuminated the basement it seemed they were located it. She continued to cower in her corner, the hand from her mouth shooting up to shield her eyes until they could get used to the sudden source of light.
“God, no. Please. No, oh god.”
A man sobbed out from the middle of the basement. She peeked around her fingers and her orbs widened drastically at the sight of a naked man hanging from a pair of shackles. He was gaunt and pale, while a second man stood close by and had a rather satisfied expression on his face. She couldn’t stop the ragged gasp after holding her breath since the upstairs door had opened.
The second man, a tall blonde wearing faded jeans and long sleeved black shirt that was both unbuttoned and rolled up past his forearms, turned his head to smirk in her direction which only caused her to shrink further into her corner.
“Oh, god. Oh, god-.”
The naked man began again before being cut off by the other.
“Shut your trap. He didn’t help you first time ‘round so what makes you think He’ll save you now?”
Seemingly dismissing the other male, the blonde turned and walked a few feet away to a simple chair with a metal frame and a padded seat which was long past its days of use. One hand settled onto the back of this chair while he leaned forward to lightly pat the worn out seat while he raised his eyes to the girl in the corner.
“C’mere, love. Have a seat.”
He waited a full minute for her to obey, seeming rather patient as he only smiled and stood to his full height.
“I’m asking you nicely, love. You’ll find this chair a lot more comfortable than say, where he is.”
Pointing with an index finger at the man several feet from the chair, who moaned as he hung from his wrists in the shackles, she realized it was more of an order than a request.
The young woman gulped and slowly stood, keeping her arms close to her chest as she slowly walked toward the man and the chair. Her eyes continued to glance towards the naked male and then back to the one that was giving her a smile that was disarmingly out of place in this basement.
The man stood behind the chair like a waiter at an upscale restaurant, ready to push her into an invisible table as soon as she sat down and place a napkin across her lap. Of course he didn’t do these things; he only continued to smile and slowly walked around her as though happy that she had this front row seat. By this time she was wondering if perhaps this was all just a big joke. Her friends at school had orchestrated this, right? Something to scare her out of her wits, but leave her otherwise safe and sound, right?
She chewed on her lower lip as though it were a piece of food that couldn’t quite make it into her mouth and watched the man move across the basement and over to what looked like a rack of tools hanging on one wall. Suddenly she let out a very forced, unamused laugh.
“Ok, I get it, real funny. Where’s the camera?”
The man by the tools ignored her until he was finished pulling a coiled length of rope from the wall, turning and walking back towards her as he leisurely pulled out the rope and tested it for strength in what seemed like more of a display than checking to make sure it would hold.
“Camera?” He replied in his rich British accent, all while moving behind her and tossing a loop of the rope around her abdomen and back behind the chair, and then repeating. She fought the urge to bolt and run for the stairs and the door. If she played along it would all go smoothly, and maybe less funny for her trickster friends. Because this had to be just a big prank, right? She wasn’t really in some psycho’s basement being tied to a chair, with a naked man who she realized had a rather large knot on his forehead and had apparently fainted was hanging in front of her.
“Yeah. This is all a joke, right? Ashley and Tiffany are behind it, aren’t they?”
Talking made her feel a little bolder and as though she might find some control in this situation. He had stopped what he was doing and was looking at her with an odd expression and for a few seconds she thought it really was just a big joke. Then he jerked hard on the rope and her breath hissed out of her lungs under the pressure of being crushed to the back of the chair. Retaining his hold to keep her that way, the man leaned in next to her ear and spoke.
“Does he look like he’s laughing?”
He jerked his head in the direction of the man dangling in the shackles. Blinking quickly she shook her head in fright and only then did he loosen the ropes enough for her to breathe again, and then tied them securely behind the chair.
“Sorry, love, but this isn’t a game. Not for you two, anyways.”
He offered another of those smiles that would have made her blush had this been a normal situation. He waited for the realization to hit home and then brushed some raven strands of hair from her eyes before standing and walking by the unconscious man. As he passed, he reached out and smacked him smartly on one cheek, rousing him from the darkness and making for a whole new level of pleading.
“Give me another chance! I’ll do whatever you want! Please!”
He barely stood on his feet with knees trembling and trying to follow the movement of the man going back to the rack on the wall which was located out of sight to the shackled male. This made him all the more frantic. Then he noticed the girl. He had been so caught up in the knowledge of what would surely happen to him that his only objective had been to talk the blonde into giving him one last opportunity.
So she was to be the audience to his vivisection. It slammed home that this was really going to happen to him. All those times he had witnessed it, was forced to masturbate to it. Now he was to be the show, the material for that girl who looked no more than sixteen. At that point his mind turned in on itself and left him a mumbling mess, perhaps to save him from reaching the breaking point of no return. Perhaps that was his breaking point.
She saw him transform from what seemed a normal individual to a shutdown being. He mumbled incoherently and continued to move, spasmodic jerks of his limbs and head, but it was clear something had snapped and he was no longer all there. His blue eyes rolled back and forth and his mumbling grew into wordless ranting, only for the blonde to reappear and stuff a rolled up sock into the man’s drooling mouth.
Turning her eyes onto her capture once again she saw a look of annoyance shadow his handsome features as he returned her look.
“Don’t you hate when that happens? Really takes some of the fun out of it.”
Shaking his head as though this was nothing but a damper on some regular activity, like getting gum on his favorite running shoes. The blonde grabbed the other male by the chin and stared at him hard, as though this were an animal being chosen for butcher. Seemingly satisfied by whatever it was that he saw, the man went back to the rack and drew his fingers along the various tools hanging there.
“Eeney, meaney, miney….Ah-hah.” She heard him say almost playfully as he extracted something from the number of utensils. When he came sauntering back into view once more, her eyes widened at the sight of what appeared to be a hand-made flogger with little scraps of metal entwined within the cords of rope. He twirled it lazily a few times as he approached the shackled man from behind and suddenly snapped it across his back.
The gag fell out followed with a high-pitched yelp. The man cried out again and again as the ragged strips bit into his flesh, leaving behind welts and lacerations, and the girl flinched every time it connected with a loud smack. This was no joke.
“Stop it! Please, stop it!”
She screamed at the blonde who only let out a laugh and made his way around the lurching figure he continued to whip. It seemed to her that he was merely warming up, giving her a taste of what may be to come. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. She scrunched her eyes closed and lowered her chin towards her chest and willed herself to wake up from whatever nightmare had its hold on her.
The man’s cries of pain continued and it was nearly all she could hear. She was crying and it was only when a hand grabbed her lower jaw and yanked her head up that she realized this.
“Oh no you don’t, lass. This show is for you, y’know?”
“What?” She breathed the word, furtively blinking away the tears that blurred her vision.
Her breath caught in her throat when the man dropped his hand from her face to fondle one of her breasts. She struggled against it and the ropes binding her. Then she spat in his face, which finally made him falter.
Her spit clung to his cheek and lips and slowly dribbled down. At first he just stared at her as she waited tensly. But then he smirked and made a vile display of licking his lips before wiping the remaining spit off. She wept again as he moved back to the man and snapped the whip one last time across his chest before moving back to the rack.
Shackled, the other man simply moaned as he dangled by his wrists, as though he had already given up and didn’t have the will to even stand on his feet. Blood trickled like many tributaries down his body and she could hear it pitter-pattering on the solid floor.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? What did either of us do to you?” She said bitterly.
“What isn’t wrong with me?” He laughed.
Wake up. Fucking wake up! This was so insane a part of her still didn’t believe it was actually happening. This didn’t happen in real life. And certainly not to someone like her. She had a normal life! Nice parents, divorced but they were on good terms. She made average grades in school. So she had smoked a little weed once in awhile, but that was all! If anyone deserved to be snatched up by a psycho, it wasn’t her.
The blonde returned to the rack which was obvious now a place to hold his torturing devices, and placed the barbed whip back with what almost seemed like care. His large hand roamed the utensils once more and settled upon a claw hammer that was already bloodstained. She could do nothing but watch in horror as he began to whistle tunelessly on his way back to his shackled captive. Standing beside him, he slapped a hand on the other male’s shoulder while the other pointed with the hammer at her.
“Pick a part, any part.”
Her mouth hung slightly open and she gave a few minuscule shakes of her head. She wasn’t sure she knew what he intended to do, but she had an idea and it turned her already pale cheeks colorless. The man either expected it or didn’t care.
“Leg? Excellent choice.”
Crack. She screamed along with the man as the head of the hammer slammed into his right kneecap and audibly splintered the bone. He continued in this fashion for at least half an hour. Asking for a body part, and when she didn’t reply he would choose himself and smash it to pieces with the hammer. Both knees, forearms, a blow to the jaw that unhinged it, and three strikes to his ribcage.
He got bored with the hammer because he eventually returned it to the rack for something new. Still shackled, the man being tortured started coughing up blood. Whether it was from his shattered jaw or a punctured lung, she didn’t guess.
“Not ready to give up already, are ya Jack? We’ve barely started having fun.”
Suddenly he had a large knife, what was known as a bowie but simply a huge blade to the girl’s eyes. He juggled it in one hand and grinned at her before abruptly stabbing the man in his stomach just above his navel. The sound of flesh tearing as he pulled it upwards to his sternum made her want to both vomit and black out, and she nearly did both.
“Not quite like the movies, is it? Not as nice when you can hear the squishing first hand, and smell the blood and guts.” He went on as he pushed his hand into the other man’s stomach and rooted around, for what she didn’t even want to guess.
She trembled against the ropes and sobbed weakly while trying not to watch the scene before her. Yet somehow her eyes were locked onto the gruesome image. He was right about the movies. She watched them all the time, out of all her female friends she was the only one who actually enjoyed horror flicks. ‘If I ever get out of this, I never want to see blood again,’ she thought to herself. A sickening, cloying smell reached her from the opened stomach and she choked back a retch.
Apparently finished with his molesting of the man’s organs, the blonde was now blocking her vision as he did something to the man that made his eyes bulge to the point of nearly popping out. He choked out hoarsely, staring straight at her over the other man’s head. The life in them was slowly faltering, the color fading with it.
Her own green orbs remained transfixed on his blue ones until the other man turned around and held something fleshy up in one bloody hand. That was when her early dinner finally made a reappearance, a cascade of vomit ran down her front at the sight of a dismemebered penis wiggling about in the air like some kind of prop.
The torrent of liquified food was short but she continued to dry heave, eyes shut tightly.
“What’d I say about that, love? If you keep closing your eyes I’m going to have to cut your eyelids off.”
“You’re fucking crazy!”
She shouted at the top of her voice, shutting her eyes again to the sight of the gaping tear in the man’s abdomen. His soft, colorful organs were slowly creeping out of the opening, threatening to spill in a glutinous pile at any moment. Then the one doing the torturing was again in front of her and held her face in his blood-drenched hand.
“Now, now. How are we going to get along with you hurling such nasty words out of that pretty mouth of yours? Maybe something needs to be stuffed into it.”
He stood back with a leer and from the corner of her vision she saw his penis held in one hand, the fingers of his other digging into her cheeks and forcing her mouth to open so he could push it inside.
All that went through her mind was getting his dick out of her mouth, and she dug her teeth into the flesh. She expected a scream but only recieved a laugh, and her closed eyes shut open to see him standing too far away for it to be his member between her lips. It wasn’t the man’s penis at all; it was the man’s in the shackles. Scorching hot bile spewed into her mouth and she spit it out along with the mutilated organ, which fell to the floor between her legs.
“You sick fuck!” She sobbed out and spit again, her empty stomach still churning. The man simply crouched beside her as she bowed forward as far as the ropes would allow to get away from him. She felt his fingers tangling in her hair, threatening to rip it out by the roots and perhaps even doing so to some as he yanked her back until his golden eyes could peer into her face.
Then his other hand was sliding between her thighs and forcing its way into her panties. She whimpered against the roughness in which one of his fingers dug into her.
“Sick, eh? You haven’t seen anything yet.” He said thickly into her ear and she knew he was grinning. Then she felt his tongue, hot and wet, slide up her cheek to collect the stream of tears still flowing from her tightly clenched eyes.