(Hazbin Hotel) Book 2: The Radio Family, Welcome to Hell!

Chapter 362: Aciano's Memory part 2 - Torture and the fragile feeling of hope

Mysterious Psychological Horror Music - Dukkha: by Secession Sound (Composer Greg Dombrowski)

Trigger Warning: Torture.
Specifically the torture of everyone's favorite little Blue Butterfly boy Aciano Ramirez.

Me staring menacingly at Black: "Your double-death is going to be incredibly slow and EXCRUCIATINGLY painful."
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Aciano's Memory...

Aciano's eyes strain to make sense of where he was headed to in the dark beneath the blindfold. His torturer, (the bastard) had no issues in tormenting him before they even entered the dark room. Black's hand around his throat was just teasing him to try and runaway it would be so easy...but Aciano never ran. He's learned that the more he tries the harsher his punishments for such arrogance towards authority become.

They continued along at a steady pace, with Black yanking harshly on his arm when he stumbled or bumped into a corner.

But even without being able to see Aciano knew where they were going and knew the moment they got there that his actual punishment would begin. The rank stench of vomit and the faint traces of blood that couldn't be washed out assaulted his nose as Black shoved him into a wooden table. He did not fight back when his cloak was torn off his arms and shoulders before being manhandled until he was strapped face-down upon the table.

His arms were restrained in a manner that left his muscles taut and straining. There was no point now. No matter what he did he could not escape this. Black knew him too well and was too prepared for him to be able to defeat him and free himself...so Black made sure to punish him regularly as a reminder of what will happen if he thinks he's above Black's authority.

Black tugged the thick leather straps to check that they were secure and left Aciano alone in the pitch black darkness. With only his scratchy breathing and pounding heartbeat to keep him company, Aciano had to bite his bottom lip to stop the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes.

Crying never once helped him.

Within the dark room there was no passage of time.

All Aciano had to go on to distinguish the time that passed was the heaviness of his tongue and the tightening of his empty stomach slowly eating away at itself.

At this point all he estimated he'd been down here maybe a day or three, given his need for water.

But it was fine.
He was fine.

Sure, the straps digging into his wrists, ankles, and across his hips were annoying and uncomfortable, but it wasn't too bad. Yes, his shoulder blades were cramping and begging to be allowed to not be spread out like a cross, but he's had far worse than this done to him.

Which is concerning because it's so 🤬 quiet...

Aciano almost had himself convinced that he was ok when the noise around him shifted. Suddenly he could hear nothing from the outside world. It was strange how he had barely made note of the humming of his own heartbeat or of the bits and pieces of talking he could catch from the ground floor above him until they were gone.

His heightened scenes were on overdrive and yet all he heard was dull background noise.

He whimpered, a small, terrified sound he hated. Aciano did not have time to be afraid. The more he thought about, well, anything, the worse it was going to be when Black came back with an assortment of tort- pain resistance training tools.

What a 🤬 joke.

He squeezed his eyes together tightly, remembering why he was doing this, why this was the right choice. He'd live, he always lived, Black wouldn't go to far if it meant Master Dread would lose his most valuable game piece. He just has to endure the pain and everything would be fine afterwards.