Operation: Merciless

Chapter Six | Weak

~George's P.O.V~

George woke up in discomfort. He was back on the bed with a stinging pain where he had been cut on his neck; he could tell he was bandaged, though. George was sure he was going to suffer through the pain since there was nothing on the bedside table and the killer didn't care about him enough.

He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, barely being able to do so: he was still weak from getting the life sucked out of him. He gazed around the room. Nothing had changed beside the fact that he smelled like shit and had a cut on his neck. At this point, George was beyond the word upset. Why not just use the I.V? Why suck it out of him?

The door opened, and George was instantly terrified. He couldn't lose any more blood; he was already weak enough as it is.

"God, you look like shit," The killer commented, taking a seat on his desk chair.

George decided enough was enough. "Why me?" He demanded. "Why are you always here? You never visit your victims but here you are, tormenting me."

The Dreamer looked shocked. He was asking questions he wasn't meant to ask. Dreamer grabbed a hold of his shirt collar, dragging him against the wall once more. "You don't ask questions!"

George could tell he was enraged. "Fuck not asking questions! What the hell is so special about me?!" George screamed, ignoring the strong urge not to shout.

The Dreamer chuckled, "Oh, I guess you do like testing my patience." The Dreamer snapped cuffs on his arms, removing his ankle cuff and violently pulling out the I.V, dragging George out of his room.

"Where are you taking me to?!" George screamed, enraging the killer further. George was dragged down the halls past The Room, and further down the corridor. The Dreamer opened a door, leading him into a large room which was furnished with two couches, a hardwood floor, and several dog beds.

George looked over, noticing several bowls of water. The Dreamer pushed him onto the couch. He whistled and in came a huge pack of dogs, all coming to sit in front of him. "You see, The Room is a decent place, but I prefer this area." He looked at the pack leader. "Rix, ret!" The dog known as Rix started barking, growling, and snapping at George.

George pushed himself as far back as possible as the dog snarled.

"Down," the killer spoke. The dog sat back down, happily wagging his tail, satisfied to obey his master. "My boys here have been trained to kill and with one single command they will." George nodded ferociously. "Now don't test me."

The Dreamer dragged George by the chain back to his room. He uncuffed, him pointing toward his stand. George looked down walking straight to his stand, allowing the restraints to snap tightly against his wrists. George wasn't going to fight The Dreamer again.

I will keep my mouth shut and do whatever he says.

The Dreamer pricked him with the I.V, then left, the door slamming shut behind him. He wanted to cry but he would be seen as weak... but perhaps he was.

Is saying that all hope is lost correct? Probably not...

George let his head fall along with tears. That was it: hope was gone. George felt sick to his stomach before retching his guts out onto the floor. Of course George wasn't able to do anything about it, knowing that he was trapped in his X position. He smelt like crap and he felt like crap.

He was dazed as someone got in-front of him. George knew who it was without even looking.

His head was pulled towards The Dreamers mask. The Dreamer's hand was the only thing holding George's head up. "You're having a panic attack, you need to calm down." George shook his head weakly, letting out a whine.