𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

- James -

Content Warning: sensitive content

Inside the dank cabin, it was a world of its own. The building's only path a barren, with dead trees decorating the outside. Because of the way it was build, barely any sunlight shone inside even on the brightest of afternoons. It looked more like a secluded room. This was one of the older and worn cabins no one visited. Usually no one inhabited it, but not today. Today, the floors of this wood receive a brand new paint job. There is a wet, sticky quality to the ground, and the smell of piss, liquor and rot is commingled with an even stronger scent. The man tied uncomfortably to the chair had been waiting for hours now; a break from the beatings and torture. He was half-naked. His hands were behind back, secured with new rope that bit through his wrists, and his ankles were strapped to the legs of the chair.

He's sitting there, refusing to show weakness

He's been through the varying questions: "what's your name? Where is your camp? How many people are there? What does your tribe leader want from us? But he never broke in front of this savage man who was going to murder him anyway. Whether he spoke or not.

James watched the pool of blood around the chair. Bodily fluids seep and flow like thick motor oil, and the metallic, sticky smell pierced his nostrils. With a brief sniff, he returned back to the single chair and small table illuminated by a weak oil lamp. His coat laid neatly folded on the chair's back when he sat down in his seat to rest. His movements were thought out and with purpose when he opened looked at the his prisoner.

"I know you have a family to protect," James said softly and with his brows furrowed put forth the unspoken thoughts and musings he's had since his talk with Cristine. "But so do I. So I can make this as painless for you as possible in the end if you tell me what I want to know."

"...I- I- gh- to hell." The man croaked, his throat severely scorched and burned from the his screams of agony he tried his hardest to hold it. He had no feeling left in his face or his body, it was cold and hot at the same time. While he wanted to be relieved from his misery once and for all, he wasn't going to beg this monster for anything.

James intently stared at the battered man with the clearest gaze and scrutinized his physical state before tasting the metal from his upper dry lip when he ran his tongue to wet it. The state of the man was a reminder to the vile things he was capable of, a reminder of what had haunted him after the war before his first wife managed to wash so much of it away, not all, but it was his start for a new life.

"You need to answer my questions first. This is a trade, remember?" James reminded, his voice soft and almost chastising a stubborn child, "you tell me what I want to know and I'll stop and give you a swift death."

The long-haired man opened one of his swollen eyes, his red and blurred vision peered back at the white haired, pale man on the chair. If he'd pass this man before, he wouldn't have ever thought him capable of this torture. His callousness, those big and bright eyes that resembled a ghoul out for blood.

"We'll feed all of you to the crows. The day will come that you will pay for your sins." A bile of mucous and blood rolled down his half open mouth. The air shifted and the man felt his heart drum calmly again inside his black and blue chest.

"I know" James chuckled dryly yet cynically. Dark eyes darted to the tools in that slim corner of the open space. The tools that cut, ripped, burned, and twisted. He became familiar with most of those apparatus and their uses. He had hours to get to know them. His torturer made sure of that. "But I am prepared to face my past and Walker." James rose from his chair with renewed vigor. His lips drew back in a ghastly smile and the shadows of his face exaggerated. It looked as if the older man was possessed by something other. "You see, to protect my family, my little girls; I'll do anything."