Satan Reincarnate

Red Chair

***

His personality switched so drastically, so quickly. It's like one minute he's one person, but if you move a muscle that he didn't like, he's rabid. I heard the click of a door closing behind Bill, but his frame took up too much of my view; preventing my vision almost completely.

"Bill-" Tom started, his accent low and scratchy. The smell of fresh smoke invaded the hallway as Tom stepped in, his steps intricate.

Bill raised his head from my collarbone, his dead eyes boring into mine as he spoke back to Tom.

"Hm?" He called, his eyes still on me. They were deep brown holes of expired emotion. Love and delicacy consumed his eyes, but it was like they were stuck in an unescapable pocket. Emotion was there, but useless and trapped.

"Where's Angelina?" Tom called, exhaling more smoke.

"Why?" Bill asked, his eyes leaving me for a moment.

He turned around, meeting Toms gaze. He nodded slowly, gesturing something to him.

"She's here." He said, his voice going from warm and lovely, to cold and poisonous. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into Toms view.

Tom started down the hall, his eyes unchanging as he grabbed my elbow with aggressive hands. He yanked me, forcing an inaudible groan from my throat. I looked back at Bill, confused as to where Tom was taking me. Bills long back was turned to me as he unlocked the metal door he dragged me out of, drawing his gun. My breath was caught in my throat, thinking the worst immediately. They switched up so fast, it gave me whiplash almost.

"Hurry up." Tom snarled, his voice dropping as he glared back at me.

I looked at him, my eyebrows furrowing as he dragged me through a wooden doorway; slamming the door shut behind me. The room was different, it only had a red chair, a short table, and a one-way window. On the table was a small, locked box, and a lighter. I snapped my mouth shut, fearing the near future.

"What're you doing?" I croaked out as he locked the door from the inside.

He shook the lock violently, confirming its sturdiness. He looked at me from the side, a half smile on his face.

"Do you want to know?" He asked me, flicking his lip ring.

Now that I thought about it, I really didn't want to. I turned slowly, and looked at the red chair in the corner of the room. There was a locked cubby in the wall, closed off with a black, metal grate and safety lock. I swallowed back the mound in my throat as my nose burned and eyes watered. I didn't know what Bill told Tom to do, or what we were doing in this room in the first place, but I knew it wasn't good. I stood there completely still until I felt calloused hands on my wrists.

I slightly jumped as I felt his grip tighten.

"Sit on the chair." He whispered down to me as a braid brushed against the back of my neck. "Or don't, depending on how much pain you can handle."

I squeezed my eyes into a tight blink, pushing out a tear as I sat down.

"Oh don't cry, not yet." Tom sarcastically said as he looked down at me. "Or actually.." he bent down. "I think Bill likes it when you cry." He whispered.

My eyes widened for a split second in response to his words. My breath grew heavier as it sped up, and the need to cry grew heavier. He looked down at the twinkling cigarette he had in his hand, and smiled. He glanced up at me through his long eye lashes, and twirled it between his fingers. I looked down at the roll as he stared at me, thoughtfully.

"Look at me." He ordered, raising the cigarette slowly.

I slowly looked at him, a crystal tear dropping from my eyes. He smiled, and lifted the cigarette to his lips. But instead of putting it in his mouth, he jammed it into my chest. I gasped, and let out a loud shriek. My hands came to my chest, but before I could comfort my wound, I found myself in his tight grip once again. He grabbed the rope coiled under the chair, and wrapped my hands around it to the point where the rope rubbing against my skin burnt more than the burn on my chest.

He tied the same rope around my ankles, so moving was pointless. He wrapped the remaining rope to the chair, making it inescapable. I let out a louder cry as it hit at my ankles and wrists, and as the burn began to look drip blood down under my shirt. I heard a bang come from the black window, but nothing after that. Someone was watching us, I just didn't know who or how many people.

"Who's out there?" I whispered, nodding to the window as my voice broke under the pressure of tears in my throat.

Tom turned to the window, and then back at me. "Oh, Bill and the girls." He smiled. His black piercing shone in the faint light as the room buzzed with silence, and my ears rang.

"Why?" I asked, my throat hoarse.

Tom shrugged. "Bill wanted to watch." He inspected me with his eyes. "He's probably disappointed in you." He sighed, leaning down.

"Why?" I asked, taken aback. I don't know why I cared what he thought, but I didn't want him to be disappointed in me.

"Because you're not in enough pain." Tom whispered, pulling a flask out from his pocket.

"Wha.." I trailed off, watching him open it, and then take a sip.

He smacked his lips, and looked at me. He brought the flask closer to my nose, the strong alcoholic smell making me cough.

"Strong, isn't it." He whispered, tilting it over.

It spilled down my chest, fusing with the deep burn. I yelled, and arched my back, trying to free my hands to get to the open wound. I felt it fizz as a chemical reaction formed with my blood and the alcohol, eating away at the raw skin. I inhaled sharply, and exhaled so fast I also passed out. I let raging cries run through me as he flicked on a lighter, and looked at me once again.

"That's better, he'll like that." Tom laughed.

I closed my eyes as sobs rang through my head. I felt the rope on my ankles heat up as he slowly moved the flame across my raw skin. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, holding back any more tears. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, and put his flask, and lighter back into his back pocket. He had a small shiv in his hand, and carelessly cut the ropes; tearing my skin as he did. He held me down so even after the bounds were gone, I couldn't move. I heard the door creak open, and familiar footsteps trail into the room. I closed my eyes, and huffed as I prayed that I would endure no more pain.

***