Talon

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Talon didn't know what day it was. When he woke, he was strapped down to a stone altar and Death stood next to him. The room was lit only by rows and rows of black candles and as Talon fought his constraints; he noticed the pentagram beneath him. Ice cold fear churned his gut and his mother popped into his mind. The image of her clutching her prayer beads with one hand on her Bible.

"We need his blood," one of Death's friends, wearing the same cloak, said.

So, they stole his blood. Each time, they'd cut a different part of him to collect it and then leave him alone in the room for what felt like years. He didn't know when one day bled into the next. The only way he kept track was when one of Death's friends would carry down food and water and feed it to him. Only enough to keep him alive.

Pain became a close friend. If one of them was frustrated, they'd take it out on Talon's skin with the knife. Or worse was when they'd use a serrated blade. He stopped caring why they were taking his blood. He prayed and prayed until he couldn't anymore. Then he'd scream.

Sometimes, he forgot all about Ruby or his mother. The altar room with its closed in stone walls, and the pain were all he could focus on. But it was worse when he did remember. When he fought his constraints and felt the weight of just how trapped he was.

When he realized he couldn't save her.

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This is too painful :,(

Thank you for reading! Don't forget to give this chapter a VOTE to help my story!

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