A Girl in Red

22 | LIGHT TORTURE

LIGHT TORTURE

Whoever the fuck tied me to this chair to let me hang forward was going to get a bill from my chiropractor. Because of all the ways to be held captive this was number fifty-five on my list. The rope was tight like a python wrapping around every part of me that I could use as a weapon. My back was killing me.

Never mind, it wasn't just my back.

I realized that as I attempted to sit up and shooting pains ripped through my skull and down my spine. My neck felt like someone had stabbed with a knife the size of a butcher's blade. I couldn't help but let out a pained groan. Apparently the hitting and roughhousing hadn't stopped when I was knocked out. The feeling could only be compared to the image of being put in a blender and set on smoothie.

The lights were bright and annoyingly white. I loved LED lights as much as the next guy but damn the lights were so bright that I swear I could see the atoms on the floor. This was already a place that I severely hated. I mean other than the fact that it was the place that I was being held hostage.

My eyes adjusted to the lights and I began observing the small room. It was silver. The floors, the walls, and the door all metal and freezing. I could feel the cold sharp frosty air against my skin like an unwanted hug. I was fully aware that I was in a freezer, half dressed, sitting in a metal chair, with a concussion, and a spinal injury. And by the way my eye was cloudy and it kind of hurt to open my eye, I was rocking a swollen black eye. They touched my fucking face.

I am going to kill them.

Alana bubbled up to the front of my mind and I searched the sterile freezer for nay sign of her. Unfortunately, I was all alone, there was nothing else but me and the chair and the rope. My heart rate picked up at the thought of them touching her. I hadn't protected her like I promised. A part of me allowed myself to be terrified for her but five seconds later I swallowed my fear down and hardened my face.

I would skin them alive.

"Fuckers!" I call out. My throat strained at the level of force that I was pushing out. It hurt. "Hey, motherfuckers get your minuscule dicks out of your mothers diseased cunts and come face me!"

There was a moment of silence before the door hissed open. A man with eyes the color of the bottom of the ocean strolled into the room. He was average looking and a little chubby — the kind of chubby that people didn't acknowledge but couldn't ignore. A round face, kind dimples adorning a straight row of teeth pulled into a dangerous smile, a slight pudge nose, with curly hair that spiraled in a thousand different directions. The man was also very, extremely, tall. He also wasn't a man at all, he was a boy. The same age as me if not younger.

"Where's Alana?"

"Why does it matter to you?" He said.

"Why does it matter to your mom if you fuck her in the ass or her cunt?"

"My mother died of cancer last year." He deadpanned. I instantly recognized his voice as the man that had been talking to Alana before I was so rudely knocked out. Luciano, his name had been.

"Do you want an apology?" I questioned in surprise at his candor. "I don't do well with apologies."

Luciano sneered at me before punching me right in the face. My head snapped away and I let the warm blood fill my mouth. I stared at the ground for a moment as I gathered my senses.

"If you punch me in the face one more time, I swear to god I'll put a bullet in you for every punch." Blood inked from my mouth before I spat at him. The glossy red spit glistened on his face.