Prey.

06.

The sound of metal hitting wood made its way to Neela's ears, the sound made her flinch. She opened her eyes and she could feel his hot, dangerous glare on her. "You look so beautiful when you're injured." She couldn't even think of possible scenarios that he would do to her, he's already done so much to her.

His death stare lasted for feasible two minutes, his body's posture then straightened. That's what he does when his mental head comes up with a new idea. She could imagine a warm spark in his eyes, replacing the dark, harsh glare they usually had. The hairs on Neela's neck stood straight up, he definitely had something planned.

He made his way to his 'play table,' he pondered over the weaponry. A gun? No, it'll make her bleed out too fast. Corkscrew? No, we'll save that toy for another day. He glanced back at Neela and she almost looks dead. Her head is thrown back, her whole body is limp, she's perfectly submissive to him.

Perfect! A much smaller carving knife than the one he previously obtained. With no warning, he stuck the tip of the sharp, cold knife into her shirt. In one smooth movement, he cut it completely with one slit. He threw the maroon shirt elsewhere in the room. "Rember the first game we played a few days ago? Where you had to run, try to find the main entrance? I wanna make the game harder each time we play it." The smile returned, she could tell it in his voice. "Hmm, what should we carve in you?" He stood to his feet and began to pace bath and forth in front of Neela.

He decided to just carve free-handed, with no thought in mind, perfect decision. He got back on his knees in front of Neela, he slowly glided the knife over her untouched stomach. He didn't apply a lot of pressure, just enough to jumpstart the nerves. When he saw goosebumps appear on her milky skin, he dug the tip of the knife right under her ribcage slightly, just enough to make the smallest dot of blood appear. His heart fluttered when he heard a small whimper escape Neela's throat.

The sharp blade penetrated her soft skin and he began to carve deeper and deeper into her. Every slice made even more tears fall down her face. She would be screaming in pain, but the pain was too much, the only sound that comes out were croaks of pain. Her skin was burning, her body was almost unresponsive. Blood trickled down her stomach with no remorse, the world around Neela became hazy and it seemed to just be slipping away from her tiny grasp.

By the time he had finished her body marking, she was passed out. She wasn't able to see what he had done to her already pretty stomach. He stood to his feet to bask in what he has done to her. He smiled, a wide grin plastered his face and his hands and shirt were painted red with her fragile blood. He watched the letters of his name bleed.

"Now, they'll know you're mine." He loved on her cheek. "Let's get you to bed, angel. You weren't able to stay up for the rest of the game!" He pouted playfully. He makes his way to the sink in the room to rid his hands of any blood. He went over to Neela and untied her hands, "my poor baby! Your wrists are burned from the rope, you must be more careful." He pulled her forward into his embrace and he heard whimpers and cries from her as her face collided with his shoulder.

~~

Neela woke up hours later, her head was beating against her skull, her body was full of pain from the events that have occurred earlier. Dare I say, she could be in more pain now than before. She tried to sit up, but the way her stomach muscles contorted made her scream in agony. She flopped herself back down on the bed, she then took notice of the full-length mirror on the ceiling.

R.Y.A.N. Is what he carved. It was carved in small-ish letters across her stomach. Blood was still slowly escaping her, her blood bedaubed the bed. Tear raced down her face, she desperately wanted to touch it to make sure it was real, but the pain that was coursing through her told her that it was obviously real.

She thought all of her looked disgusting. Her small figure laying there, submissive to him. Her left hand tied to the headboard. She was laying in her own blood. Her body is covered in cuts and bruises, not only from him but from the crash still remained littering her precious skin. She couldn't look at herself, she felt physically sick to her core. Was it physically painful? Yes. But it also scared her. It made her mental health worse than it already was.

He entered and sat right in her blood, "doesn't it look pretty?" He smiled and pressed his hand against the cuts, the salt from his hands made the burning sensation feel even worse. She couldn't answer him, she could only look at him and cry. The reason she looked only at him; she would've vomited if she looked elsewhere, she would've been able to see herself from her peripherals. "You see, I didn't clean you while you were asleep, because I wanted you to be awake for the cleaning process. Do you wanna know why I want you to be awake for it?" She whispers to him, "why?"

"Because when I inevitably do this again and if I may have to leave, you need to know how to do this yourself, right?" She didn't answer him, she just laid there and cried, "okay, you're not up for conversation right now. And that's fine! What's important right now is that we clean those wounds or you'll get an infection. And we definitely don't want that."

He untied her and picked her up like she was a baby, their breasts pressed together. He took her to the master bathroom, she was almost screaming in his neck from the buttons on his shirt moving the wounded skin. He sat her on the counter top, "stay here. You need to hold yourself up while I gather everything, okay?" She nodded, still crying. "Good girl," he gave her lips a small kiss.

He left the bathroom and she just stared. The blankest of stares. Her soul was far away from her being. She was completely gone from reality. Her body was still here, in his world, yes. But, her mind and spirit were nowhere to be found. She was completely out of it, she had nothing left in her. He wasn't going to get anymore fight out of her. He wasn't going to get any more 'playing,' out of her. He broke her.

Death is peaceful.