| Genre: originals | |
| Chapter 1 | |
| Before you read, I want to state that this story may turn into a three-part series. It may end on a cliffhanger and never be finished. The first part could be the end if you choose not to read anymore. Enjoy, but read at your own risk. | |
| Elijah's bare feet padded across the cold, stone-built basement floor. His latest victim, a male, sat in the corner, held by a single rusty chain that kept him within five feet of the wall. Elijah tended to prefer males, though he didn't know why. He never really questioned it. | |
| He eyed the male, who sat shivering like a lost animal. "Don't be afraid," Elijah said quietly, a grin spreading across his face as his light blue eyes gleamed with pleasure at the thought of what was about to happen within those walls. He quickly gripped the hostage's dark brown hair, pulling him roughly to his feet. "Now, Devon, let's play a game." Devon seemed terrified, his eyes wide with fear, as if his life was on the line – which, in fact, it was. "This game is fun, at least for me," Elijah said, releasing his grip on the male's hair, a clump of which remained in his hand. | |
| He walked towards the wall, surveying the many items he kept there: guns, whips, clamps, and knives. "Why don't you put your hands out for me, kiddo, palms facing the ceiling?" he asked, keeping his back to the male until he heard the shuffling of him moving. Elijah grabbed the pistol from the wall, loaded it, and took the few steps it took to get within a foot of the male. | |
| Before the male could react, Elijah aimed the pistol at the palm of his hands, sending a bullet shooting through. Within seconds, both hands were shot, and a loud scream pierced the air as Devon fell to the floor in agony, his crimson blood spilling onto the floor beneath him. Elijah sighed in disgust. "You're making a mess. Stand up." He waited a few seconds before deciding the male had taken too long to comply. Taking a fistful of the male's hair, Elijah yanked him back onto his feet. "Disobedient," he muttered. | |
| He moved the male to the middle of the room, pulling down two chains from the ceiling. "Please, try to stay still. It will only be more painful for yourself." Gripping Devon's wrist in an iron-tight grip, Elijah slowly threaded the chain through the hole in the palm of the other's hand. He did the same to both hands before rehooking the chain, slowly suspending the male from the ceiling. Elijah watched with pure glee as the man withered in pain above him. "The more you move, the more it will hurt. Silly," he mocked, a smirk on his face. | |
| Elijah tilted his head to the sound as he watched the male struggle for a few more minutes. The male hadn't screamed from the suspension, which disappointed Elijah. "Shame," he said to himself. "I'll have to fix that." He walked back over to the wall, idly running his fingers across the weapons, stopping on one of the knives. It wasn't sharp, but with enough pressure, it could cut skin. He hummed as he picked the knife up, walking slowly back to the male. | |
| "This will hurt you more than it will ever hurt me," Elijah said, lightly pressing the cold metal against the male's stomach. He grinned as the male tried to struggle away from the item. "Ah, ah, be still," he murmured. He slowly applied pressure onto the knife, watching as it slowly cut into the victim's pale skin. Elijah gripped the knife handle tighter, his mouth spreading into a smile that sent chills down one's spine and made the hair stand up on the back of one's neck. As the blood appeared on the skin in small red beads, he pressed the knife deeper, letting it cut the skin more before quickly slicing down the male's stomach, almost as if he were skinning an animal. | |
| Elijah tilted his head to the side as the male let out an ear-piercing scream, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he passed out. "Weak," Elijah said, dropping the knife onto the floor. He took a step back to admire his handiwork on the male's stomach. The skin hung down, letting the blood flow down the male's body before it began to drip onto the floor, joining the half-dry puddle that was already there. Elijah sighed as he lightly traced his finger through the wound, smiling as the muscles beneath his fingertips began to move, almost as if they were avoiding his touch. He let his hand drop to his side, still covered in blood. "Sleep tight," he said, spinning on his heels and leaving the basement. | |
| NEXT CHAPTER | |
| Chapter 2 | |
| Part two of Elijah torturing Devon. | |
| Three hours later, Elijah was back in the basement, sighing at the pathetic male who hung from his ceiling. "Why do I even bother with this?" he muttered to himself as he lowered the male back down to the floor, slowly pulling the chains free from Devon's hands. "Oi, you piece of shit, wake up," he said, kicking the male in the ribs and smirking when he winced and curled in on himself. "Yeah, I get it. It hurts," he said, rolling his eyes. He picked the male up and quickly, quietly strapped him down to the table. | |
| "I'm going to let you choose. Do you understand?" Elijah looked into the male's dark green eyes, watching as Devon nodded his head quickly. "Great," Elijah said, grinning and crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you want to no longer see or no longer talk?" he asked, his lips twitching. He could see the male thinking the question over, but he let him think for a few moments. "No longer see?" Devon sounded unsure of his answer, but Elijah shrugged and grabbed a blindfold, easily covering the male's eyes. "Great choice." | |
| He hummed as he grabbed the old, rusty hammer from the table, along with two screws. "Now, Devon, hold still, will you?" he asked, lining the screw up to one of the male's eyes before whacking it hard with the hammer, sending it through the male's eye. Devon screamed, thrashing against the table that held him bound. "Sh, sh, you're okay," Elijah said, not sounding bothered. He was more interested in the blood that was seeping out of the blindfold. Once the male had stilled, Elijah was quick to do the same to the other eye. "There, you can no longer see, just like you picked." | |
| He dug around in his jacket pocket, finally pulling out a pocket knife. He dragged a chair beside the table and sat down. "You know, I've always wanted to be an artist," he said, almost making idle conversation, as if the male before him wasn't being tortured. He sighed, running the knife down Devon's leg, applying pressure and letting it cut the skin. He began to draw patterns as the blood slowly rolled down the male's skin. It wasn't long before the faint sound of dripping blood could be heard: drip, drip, drip, as it fell from the table and onto the floor beneath them. | |
| Elijah sighed as he stood up, stretching his arms out. "I shall see you in a few hours. Do try to scream," he hummed, walking out of the basement and letting the door slam behind him, leaving the male writhing in pain on the basement table. |