Heisen's Eye

Chapter 7

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Ryu's POV
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"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know what I did but I'm sorry!" (Young Ryu)

"Shut your mouth, brat! You don't know what you did?! Take a look at me! Look at me!" (???)

Doing as I'm told, I lift my head, only to be greeted by a man in his 20's, his body skinny and ragged. He wore barely any clothes, and dirt seemed to encompass every part of his body.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what I did to make you like that, but I'm sorry!" (Young Ryu)

"I said shut up!" (???)

The man continues to whip me, covering me in cuts and bruises.

Crack after crack, those were the only noises that echoed in the room, aside from my sobs.

"Please, please, please stop! I'm begging you! Please!" (Young Ryu)

Screaming, I continued to get beat over and over and over again.

It never stopped.

It didn't stop, even if I fainted from the pain, I would continue getting beat.

Crack after crack after crack.

It was only after hours had passed that the man got bored. From there, he took me from the chains and threw me out onto the street.

And I didn't move. I couldn't move. The cuts that covered my body throbbed whenever I even thought about moving. The bruises seemed etched into my bones.

And I fell unconscious, right then and there. And I hadn't moved even when I woke up.

The only indication of help I received was the small bottle of ointment by my hand.

And now it's happening again.

I'm getting beat over and over again. But it lasts longer now. The man found more "victims".

Even now, after going through torture several times, I still don't know what I did. They never tell me. All they say is that I "should know".

I suppose it doesn't matter.

This must be fate.

I doubt I'll be able to get to the city now.

They managed to up their arsenal.

A knife and pliers.

Why? Why me?

What did I do?

What should I know?

The first time I entered this village, I got kidnapped and beat.

The second time I entered this village, I got kidnapped and beat.

The third time I entered this village, I got kidnapped and beat.

And now? I'm going to get torn apart.

In the usual fashion, they approach me with their weapon of choice, this time the knife, with a grin that seems straight out of a nightmare.

And they get to work. Slicing me all over my body. Cutting me. Slashing me. But no stabbing, after all, they want me to repent. They don't want me to die, no no, that'd be my release.

I had begged over and over and over for them to kill me to no avail. After all, I needed to be sorry for what I did, and death is no way to say sorry.