The World is Ugly (Frerard)

42: I promise this thing has an ending lmao be patient

I'm suffering I need a hug lmao
So why not make fictional characters suffer as well to make me feel better Ayyy I like that idea lets roll with it

Frank's POV

He didn't stop there. Not after the second round, not after the third. He just kept filling the bucket whenever he ran out of water. He kept making me drown without giving me the privilege of dying to make it stop. He kept going.

And oh, God did he enjoy it.

During the whole time he spent on that particular torture method, he kept wearing that smile. A smile of pure satisfaction and pride. He was proud whenever I tried to scream for him to stop. He was proud whenever I looked at the mirror where I knew Gee was watching and tried to smile to make him think it was nothing, to make him think I was doing a lot better than I was. He was proud when the skin on my whole face, neck and chest got covered in blisters from the incredibly cold water he was soaking me in, and my lips turned almost black. That's when he decided he was done.

But the thing is, with Vic, it was never truly done, no. He just got bored when he thought I'd gotten used to what he was doing to me, so he moved on. He changed it up a bit until everything felt a thousand times worse. It felt like I would die at any moment, and I even wished for it to happen. But no. I shook that thought off my mind every time. Gerard was watching, and he was the one person I pledged to myself I would never let down. And so I smiled. When everything felt like too much I gathered the pieces of my consciousness, same that had been torn apart by the pain and the awful things Vic was so keen on saying to me, and smiled.

Knives were brought in, and so were ropes. They all left my skin burning even more on the places they'd touched, blood rushing to cover the wound, and eventually mix with the water puddled around me on the table.

My whole flesh had been cut into, not a single square inch of my chest or arms had escaped the cool feeling of the blade as it slid right through, slicing as if my very skin were nothing but a simple piece of cake that gave in just like that.

In any normal circumstance, I would have bled dry by now. But no. The wounds had only been made superficial, and my whole body was still frozen from the water, so most of them didn't even bleed.

I had read something about this somewhere. In extreme cold circumstances, the body works on different ways. The heart beats slower and the wounds don't bleed, or bleed a lot less than they should. They'd planned it like that.

I'd figured out their plan a while ago. They never wanted me to die. If they did, they would've killed me long ago. Vic handled the knife carefully and avoided all critical veins so that I could stay here. Stay conscious and watch his every move for as long as he could keep me that way. He was having fun, he was testing my limits.

If only I could see Gerard, I knew it would all be bearable. However, that was not possible and I knew it, so I held on to my stupid smiles, where I ended up smiling at my reflection and blindly hoping that he could see them, and if he did, that they would send him a message.

'It's okay. I'm alive. You're here. That's all that matters right now. We're gonna make it out, I promise'

But was that a promise I could keep?

"Frank hey, maybe you should try screaming a little louder, this is getting boring" Vic suggests, pouting as he takes me out of my trance, popping my little bubble of thought protecting me from fully feeling the pain.

I breathe with difficulty. Every single breath hurts from the inside out: all the way from my frozen, water-filled lungs to the exterior of my wounded chest. When I inhale, the skin stretches and the cuts open even more, causing me to scream every single time.