Puppet [LGBT - POLY - Complete - Edited]

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

He woke to darkness.

It wasn't unusual nor was he scared of the things lying further beyond where he lie. He was content in his soft hazy thoughts and if he had a choice, he would have lied there until the wold blew over.

The time went by without his own thoughts disturbing him. The sleep was falling away, leaving him bare to the world. Naked, he wondered if there was any point in trying to get up. Slowly the memories came back. They trickled in like drops of water from a tap.

Hazel and Mary, bound to chairs, and the man wearing the mask. He could see Hazel's blank stare and the ways her eyes looked beyond this world. They were staring at him. She was screaming for him to save her, but he could only look back. The man was standing behind her. The knife in his hand came to her neck. He was going to do it. He was going to kill her.

The blade slid across her throat. The blood came gushing out in overflowing rivers. Varian crawled forward with his mouth open. The blood gagged him, but he didn't close his mouth. The taste was bitter and full of copper. It was clinging to the back of his throat.

He snapped out of the memory, eyes wide, but he couldn't see a thing. Still trapped in this repeating nightmare, he was forced to take it all in. The things he saw scared him made him frightful of the world he was living in. Before this day, before he woke up in this house, he'd been normal. His life had never strayed from the normal path and he'd never felt such pain. He was finally admitting it.

He was broken. Soulless and left to die in his sea of tears and blood. Never would he be able to forget the death and the disturbed actions made by the faceless black figures. And he would be forever changed by his own fear.

Moments that felt like hours passed before he found the strength to pull away from the darkness and open his eyes.

The room was bathed in a gray light, cold and distant from him. He felt like he was miles away from the world. Broken away from all life, he was alone in this world and he would be forever left to die in his solitude. He saw their faces floating above him, pushing through the shadows of the dark room.

Where he lied on the bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin, he saw them hovering like they were waiting for him to make the first move. He closed his eyes. He threw the covers over his head and prayed they would go away. All of the night before played out like a movie and no matter how hard he tried to think of other things, he couldn't push out their faces.

Their fear was contagious and the men who'd done that to them were left unpunished. He couldn't find the fight in him to seek revenge. He just wanted to disappear. He just wanted to forget it all and go back to the darkness.

A door opened and the room was bathed in a soft light. He saw it behind his closed eyes, begging for attention. He turned to his side and wrapped the blankets tighter around him.

It was one of them. He didn't care which. It didn't matter. He didn't want to see either of them.

But they were drawing closer, walking toward the bed, invading his space.

They could do anything to him and he wouldn't be able to end it. He was weak, broken beyond repair and eventually they would destroy the last of him. A few hours in their hands and he'd gone from the sane person he'd known himself to be to a sniffling broken child. Who would be next on their list? Who would they kill next if he didn't comply to their orders?

And even if he died, would they kill his family anyway? Was there anyway to win against them?

The darkness was quiet and warm. Different than the outside world where it was cold and emotionless. There was nothing left for him to do out there, no one that would understand the person he'd become.