Gorehound |-/ Joshler

Chapter Two: Silence of the Pigs

Only the rattle of chains could be heard. A painful bolt of spastic energy shot up Joshua's bicep and ended in his shoulder, which rolled against coarse cement.

His wrists were held tightly in cool metal, his hands hanging lazily over the tops of whatever band was keeping his arms in the air like a puppet.

His head was pounding with a migraine, causing only one eye to open at first. The other seemed to be clamped shut in pain, whether it was due to the searing light coming from above him or the head throb.

With the one eye being wrenched open, Joshua could see maybe five feet in front of him. Anything beyond that was blurry at best.

His throat was hoarse, so calling for help was out of the question. It felt as if it was getting tighter and tighter, like someone's hand had a firm grip on his vocal chords.

It was only then that he realized that both of his arms were hung above his head, ascending to the sky as the rest of his body was held down by gravity. His head hung low, his neck unable to stay up properly.

"H..." He attempted to speak. His mouth was unmoving. "He..."

The word 'help' was the only thing crossing his mind. He didn't care if his mouth was the Sahara desert, he had to say it in hopes someone would hear him.

His left arm spasmed, shaking the chain that held him to the wall. The involuntarily spasm visited again, but this time, he was able to feel that there was something wet in between his skin and the metal cuff.

Curious, he slightly turned his head to the side as he looked up to figure out what it was. He had to squint, and when he did, he could see that whatever it was was within his reach.

He turned his fingers down and in a claw-like position, grasping for the thing that hung out of the metal cuff. His fingers touched it, and the roughness of it was surprising. It had seemed so doughy when it furled against the restraints.

He tugged it out and held it in between his fingers. Now he could feel the softness of it as he pinched it. He could see the texture, the color.

It was human skin.

He screamed raggedly in horror and flung it away from him, where it landed on the cement under the single beam of light from above.

Joshua now knew that his voice was back, if only for a little while, but he had to make good use of it. Throwing his head back, he cried for help over and over again.

Somewhere, a door flew open and an angry voice screamed back, "SHUT UP!"

Joshua's mouth closed immediately. He pushed himself back against the wall as far as he could go in fear. He grabbed onto the chains that were linked to the cuffs and white-knuckled them.

The door slammed closed for a few moments, only to be opened again.

The heavy, thudding footfalls won over the creaks of the old wood as the man descended the stairs. Every step was torture for the man who was chained up against the wall.

His heart could be heard in his ears, and on the last step, the man who held him captive stopped. The naked bulb hanging from the ceiling above didn't penetrate the darkness far enough, and the reporter couldn't see him. He knew he was there, he knew he was just...watching.

The sudden crack of a beer can being opened rang out in the basement, making the reporter flinch. A hiss followed, one of carbonation being released, and the man drank from the can.

"Ah..." He sighed, suspiring and content. He took the last step and turned into the light that cut through the darkness. Only his face was illuminated, shadows hanging under his eyes and cheekbones.

"I'm not one for beer, but this can in your backpack that I assume was to calm your nerves is actually quite good." The man spoke, lifting the can to his mouth again.

"Very tart, however. Do you drink this on a daily basis?"

Joshua couldn't answer. Any and all will to had left his body.

"Oh come on, now. I have you chained up on my wall in my soundproof basement, and this," from his pocket, the madman produced a small hunting knife. "can make you say anything I want you to. Do you want that?"

Joshua shook his head. Already, tears had sprung from his eyes and traced down his cheeks. He was petrified. His life was in danger from the moment he stepped into the house, and he didn't know it.

The man frowned at the sight. "Still not talking?"

He approached Joshua, knife in one hand and beer in the other. Eyes narrowed, he lifted the knife up so the very tip of the blade touched Joshua's nose.

"Have you heard of the expression, 'Cutting off the nose to spite the face'?" He asked, voice low and haunting.

"N-no..." Joshua answered. He knew that if he hadn't mustered up the courage to say something, he would be hurt in some sadistic way.

"Hm. Shouldn't waste time explaining it to you, then. Not that it really fits now, but your nose...it reminded me of it."

With a simple tap of the side of the blade to Joshua's nose, the man winked. "My real name is Tyler, by the way, not Zack." He walked away from Joshua while taking another drink.

"Funny story: Zack is my brother whom I killed and took his identity. I mean, it's not hard, I look like him. Well, he has a longer face, but the similarity is there. Just took all his government documents and fled Ohio. Ended up here."

Why was Tyler telling him all this? Was he doing it because he would kill him soon? The mere thought of a gruesome ending, especially one so soon, had Joshua's stomach in knots.

"You're real quiet, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I can change that. I can make you squeal like a stuck piggy." Tyler spoke through gritted teeth as he pretended to drive the knife into Joshua's torso. He pocketed the knife and drank again.

"How loud can you scream, little pig?"

When Joshua didn't answer, Tyler threw the half-empty can over his shoulder with a foul look on his face.

"We'll find out soon enough."

With his haunting promise lingering, Tyler ascended the basement stairs, closing the door and locking it.

Joshua didn't know what to do. He was trapped in this madman's house, no-one knew where he was, and the stench of death hung in the air around him.

Watery eyes trained on the lone piece of flesh in front of him, Joshua sobbed until he could cry no more. His energy had been drained.

He didn't dare fall asleep. If he did, the strain of all his weight pulling on his arms could severely damage his body. So he stayed awake.

All night.