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Wooden steps descend into the dark cellar with a cemented floor having mildew spiderwebbed across it and a bare bulb light with a pull string hanging from the middle of the ceiling. The only sound that could be heard was that of leaking pipes. A middle-aged man was bonded to a chair. In constant silence, He trembled when the sound of footsteps climbing down the stairs echoed in the room, they were getting closer. He began to struggle against the ropes.
Even tho the cellar was cold, he was sweating, all his wounds were getting warm and itchy all over again, he bit the rug that was shoved in his mouth, out of fear.
"Stay out of it." spoke a man with an underlying warning. "You know me, I'm just here for a good show." another boy replied.
They were here for him, he could feel the tears building up in his eyes, he couldn't even believe how he handled the torture up until now, and for what? these scums wanted to take a piece of him.
All of a sudden the cloth from his eyes was ripped away and before his eyes could adjust to the dim light, a hard punch was thrown at his face. He groaned in pain, it was a miracle he haven't dislocated his jaw.
"Hey, bastard! Ready to talk yet?" a boy who seemed to be in his early twenties came into his line of vision. "It'll be a shame if you are because I'm looking for a fun time you know" The boy in Infront of him spoke before cracking his knuckles.
This boy had dirty blonde hair with green eyes, thick lashes, and high cheekbones. He had the kind of face that would stop girls in their tracks. He must've been used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile with a slight blush. If he wasn't in this filth, he could have been a model. But even with those golden features, the glint in his eyes was enough to conclude that he was a mad sick bastard who took pleasure in others' pain.
The middle-aged man looked away, but the brunette pulled his hair back, so they could be face to face. "Keep your mouth closed like that and I'll be glad to shut it permanently myself." He leaned forward with a crazed look in his eyes as his voice darkened. "Trust me I won't be as gentle as my brother who you faced earlier."
The man (even if scared) smirked or at least tried to lift his lips upward with the last shreds of bravery he had left in him as if his threat didn't bother him. The middle-aged man spat on his face. "I wasn't born yesterday boy, do your worst!"
The smile never disappeared from his face as he wiped the spit away. "Thanks for the approval, Hey Mark" he called out to the dark-haired boy standing in the corner, who had a worried look on his face at what just happened, "tell boss I'm sorry."
"Wait Lucas we need him al-" the black-haired boy tried to argue but was cut short.
"BECAUSE I'M GONNA GO FUCKING CRAZY TONIGHT!" Lucas gave a charming smile to the man sitting in the chair before throwing another punch.
