Girl Name Sandra..

Chapter Thirty-One: THE END of the thread...

Chapter Thirty-One: THE END of the thread...

The clock strikes noon... Cheers coated the air as well as the scent of ale and blood. The crowd was anxious, excited, and angry... the need for blood, agony and tears was a desire making their palms sweat and fingers twitch. The sun high in the sky baked their skin; creating sweat and stench. However the foul scent did not distract from what's coming ahead of time.

The once beautiful man with raven black hair, a kiss by the sun glow, brown eyes and unbelievably strength was no longer their in the presence of the crowd. Now this man was weak, pale, covered in sewage, blood, and sweat- vulnerable and useless, just the way Lucian likes his prey. With a touch of stench of defeat coating his skin as well, Anton stood there on that small stage in the middle of town square- head hung low, eyes on his dirty feet, while blocking out the crowds yells. He could only hear one thing, one person- the horrors screams of his wife.

"Anton! Anton!" Sandra thrashed against the guards body, trying to fight her way up to the stage to save her husband from the pain and humiliation.

"Hold still you twat," A guard said through gritted teeth, his patience were weighing thin and at any moment he'll knock her unconscious. If it wasn't the orders of his lieutenant, he would of done so already. He just held Sandra in place to keep her from running.

The other guard laughed at his superiors struggle, "Oi! You can not hold a woman, not just a woman but a weak peasant."

The guard holding Sandra growled in frustration, "She's like a cockroach, kicking her legs even when she's close to death. How about you give it a try, aye? See how you can stay focus and still hold her still."

The other guard scoffed and looked forward to the stage while keeping the crowd at bay, making sure none of them slip by. The crowd suddenly became riled up when they saw Lucian stepped onto the rage, leather whip in hand, lips form into a wicked smile, and eyes dark with the need of blood to satisfy his thirst.

"Do you hear that, Anton?" He whispered into the weak man's ear. "You lost, the crowd wants you dead. Hear your wife scream you name, soon after she'll begging for you when my men take turns with her- but you won't be able to save her."

Anton hands clenched into fist, his teeth grinding together as his body shook with anger. "I will kill you, you fucking prick."

Lucian only laughed as if Anton told an hilarious joke, "I would keep my strength if I was you." He patted Anton's shoulder before turning to the crowd. "YOU WANT BLOOD!"

The crowd cheered even louder, the people at sea could hear their cries from death and victory.

"I'LL GIVE YOU BLOOD!! Tie him to pole."

Two guards forced Anton to the stained wooden pole in the middle of the stage, surrounded by stained wood flooring. The pole was thick as a head and tall as a giraffe, the wood were chipped off or poked out that caused damage to the victims arms. However the lack of management and care of the wooden pole was the least of his worries.

Anton was changed to the pole, his arms over top of his head while his bare back was exposed to the word. He could not see anything other than the blood stained pole and wooden floor.

Lucian cracked the whip into the air to put fear in Anton and Sandra's heart, and excite the crowd even more. He cracked it once more, but this time I caused a long mark upon Anton's back- deep enough to leave a permanent mark, but light enough to not reveal blood.

Anton stood emotionless, no screams of agony nor grunts from pain. He was a brick wall with sealed fate of death. Lucian was not happy and decided to take it up a notch instead of teasing him. He cracked the wipe once again, this time causing blood to spill from Anton's body. Still no sign of pain from Anton. Even after more painful whips, Anton did not give them the satisfaction of his misery- he was stoic.