From Murder to Dust

46 - Defeat

It had been three months since Ink took me back, and I assumed my family would be ready with their plan soon; I didn't think I could hold out any longer. I was definitely at the end of my rope, with Ink shattering my bones and holding them together with mere paint. That was my life: cracking and paint. I was in fact allergic to paint now, which only served to worsen my situation, and Ink responded by giving me more; he really hated me, didn't he? Speaking of Ink, he was back; he walked over to my many-times-broken body and lifted my skull so I was looking at him; this action hurt, making me yell out in pain - everything hurt.

"Aw, you're so happy to see me!" Ink giggled. "Are you excited for another game?"

"P-p-please.." I coughed up more paint. 

"I couldn't quite hear that; would you speak up, please?"

"D-don't.."

"I still can't hear you! Are you excited or not?"

"..Yes.."

"That's what I like to hear!"

Ink then began our torture session, as always, with paint. I despised paint; it tasted horrible, it burned, and it covered me from skull to phalanx! I never wanted to see another drop of paint again! I could stand the kid's killing, I could stand being battered, and I could even stand Ink himself, but I couldn't stand paint. Maybe I was being a bit harsh. I could stand some paint, like gray, black, and blue, but red was out of the question; I would be disposing of anything that I owned with red that wasn't a picture with my family in it - we couldn't control that. When Ink was done with this session, he sat beside me and drank his own paint. He didn't seem to burn or dislike the taste - he actually enjoyed it! I didn't understand Ink; he understood me perfectly: he knew what I hated, and he used it. I would have been glad when he was overthrown, and I would have probably avoided anything about him for the rest of my life. I hoped Cross didn't go through this when he was under Ink's control. When Ink finished his drink, he turned to me and smiled, running a phalanx over my broken bones, making them hurt worse.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" He asked, expecting a certain answer.

"Y-yeah.." I cried, giving him his desired answer.

"Hmm..those guards should have been here by now.." Ink put another crack in my skull out of frustration, making me cry harder. "I wonder what's taking them so long."

I hoped my family was the cause, because I wanted to go home.

"I guess we can play a little more while we wait for them; you don't mind, do you?" Ink traced over the new crack.

"N-no.." I whimpered; I didn't want to play.

"Great! Are you thirsty?"

"No!" 

"Oh, you must be! Tell me again, the truth this time. Are you thirsty?"

"N-no.."

"I sense a lie." Ink pressed down on my shattered radius, making me scream. "Are you thirsty?"

"Yes! P-please stop!" I begged.

"I knew it! I know just the drink!"

Ink began forcing me to drink his red paint, the same that covered my shattered body; it burned me. After three hours of this torture, the door opened; it was my family - they looked angry.