The Child of The Tomb

Lesson 40 - Climb V. Succulent

(3rd Person POV)
-

The walls were covered in lightly embroidered dark violet wallpaper, light radiating from the corner of the room by a tall lamp.

On one of the walls was a round mirror, a bed rested beneath it. On top of the bed was a large and round man with multiple wrinkles in his face, naked. Dirty blond hair was slicked back, a single strand fallen out of place that complimented his small mustache hairs.

He huffed and puffed with a wide smile on his face, fists raising and lowering with each rough punch he delivered to the poor dark haired woman's bloodied face, sprawled across the sheets in her birthday suit.

"Hey what's the matter? You through already? Eh?!" The man panted.

His fist sat still on the woman's largely bruised cheek, slowly raising it as she laid there, a tooth missing, blood trickling down her nose and onto the dark covers. Small incoherent and nearly silent sounds wheezed out from the unfortunate soul.

"Now that I think about it, I liked the voice of that woman who ran away." His smile never left, small pupils staring down at her with his shadow covered face.

He snickered and grinned, moving his body down towards the woman's lower torso, spreading open one of her legs as a click from behind him caused him to freeze.

He turned. "Wha--?!"

Sebas stood there, harsh expression glaring at Staffan, the same man who visited their living quarters.

"You like hitting, do you?" Sebas broke the silence.

"Y-You!" Staffan stuttered out.

Sebas took calm steps towards him, only to take him by surprise as Staffan's head was whipped to the side by a loud and weighted slap by Sebas's gloved hand.

Staffan choked and let out strung out letters as his hand rested on his now swollen cheek. "You 'hink you can g'ed away wi--" He yelped sloppily as his other cheek was also slapped, giving him another dose of whiplash.

Again, and again, side to side.

"S'dob 'dat!" He cried, nose bleeding, few teeth missing, and bruised upper eye. His once greased back hair now fell in front of his eyes in strands. Staffan held one side of his cheek as tears dotted the corners of his eyes.

"Is this wrong?" Sebas replied.

"Ob' course Id' is! Who do you 'hink I ab'?!" Staffan shouted out, spit flying from his mouth with each word.

"A mere fool."

"For pity's sake, isn't this an awful sight?" Sebas's eyes drew to the seemingly crippled woman.

She had tan skin, dark wavy hair, bruises along her neck, ribs visible and red spots ranging from her arms to her stomach and thighs.

Staffan squealed as he quickly stood and ran to the door, giggling as he tossed himself out the doorway. "You 'hool--" He tripped, landing on his hands and knees.

"Domebody! Id' anybody 'dere?!" He screamed into the dark hallway. He clicked his tongue, sweat drops starting to fall across the sides of his face. "Why 'idn'd anybody cobing' oud'?" He sobbed desperately.

"Because they are dead, or they are unconscious." Sebas steps out from the room.

"Ib-b-'boddible!" Staffan gasps nasally.

"Now then, I feel no need to spare your life." Sebas stares down at him. "You are going to die here."

Staffan turns his body towards Sebas. "W-W-Waid! Why are you doing 'dis?!" He holds up his hand as a sign to wait.