S1-37 | Torn

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S1-37. Torn

The feel of the rough, uneven floor was the first sensation I recognized as I stirred to consciousness. My eyes were heavy; I could barely crack them open. The smell of something putrid and stale assaulted my senses. The clinking sound of metals rang in my ears and the feel of rough fabric irritated me more.

Where am I?

After a few more seconds, I realized someone was lifting me up, or more accurately dragging me somewhere. I summoned the strength to open my eyes, cracking it open, but it was dim, and I realized someone was dragging me near a source of light. I looked down at myself, noting I was wearing a large dirtied shirt and I was barefoot. I closed my eyes tightly as my head throbbed painfully.

I moaned in pain as that someone hefted me up until cool metal touched my skin. Then, pairs of hand roughly yanked both of my arms, strapping them on my sides. The sudden burst of light behind my eyelids made me turned my face away from the source, but a hand was quick to stop me from moving. I felt something pressed tightly in my forehead, holding my head in place. I forced my eyes open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright light in front of me, which I realized was an overhead lamp. I glanced around, noticing three men moving around the metal table I was strapped in.

My heart beat started to race as I recollected what happened. Like a horror show, it flashed before my eyes.

Tristan trying to save me.

The car crash.

My throat clogged up, my heart squeezed painfully as the realization dawned on me. Tristan is gone. He is gone because of me, because of my indecisiveness, because I was selfish.

"Hey Martin, call Renz, the bitch is awake." A disembodied voice hollered, his words echoed and bounced off the walls. I strained my eyes against the dim light but couldn't see him clearly.

Another man started to snicker loudly. "This is going to be fun. Renz can finally use his toys again."

I shivered at the mention of toys, and as if on cue, my eyes caught on the glint of metal on the far side corner. My breath hitched as I spied knives of varying sizes placed above a wooden table; there were hooks, saw blades that had seen better days and a ghastly looking hammer.

Panic rise up in my throat, fear suffocating me. I desperately tried to move my hands and my legs but it was no use, I could barely move. The easy banter of the men around me rang in my ears, making my head ache.

A man moved towards the table holding the set of knives. He lifted up the largest knife and held it up, grinning widely. "I bet this could easily chop her fingers off."

The image his words invoke was too much. A scream tore at my lips.

"Fuck! I said put a gag on that bitch!"

My eyes flailed wildly as three figures of men approached me with quick determined strides. Another scream tore out my lips as the one who reached me first stepped into the light, showing a scarred face, badly deformed that he did not looked human anymore, aside from his nasty steel gray eyes.

The sudden blow my side received, had me gasping for breath, the pain ricocheting all over my body. I gagged over my own saliva, my body curling and yet unable to because of the restraints.

"Let her be gentlemen. Screamers are my favorites." A disembodied voice spoke up, voice laced with malice and macabre. Fear crept in my skin, like a chill that left shivers upon its wake.

"Why did you stop?" the disembodied voice asked haughtily. My fingers dug painfully in my palm as I watched a tall, large figure of a man stepped up to the wooden table and picked out scalpel.

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