I awoke with a sharp pain running through the side of my face. I groaned as I began to gain consciousness. I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the light shining down on me. I leaned my head back to rest on the pole behind me. As I did this, I caught a glimpse of a figure squatting in front of me. I looked at the person, expecting to see a pair of cold, green eyes. But the eyes I found were shockingly blue.
That pair of blue eyes were horrifying. They were empty. They gave off the impression that they held no compassion for anything in the world. That they didn't care about anything. The fact that they were fixated on me made it all the more terrifying. It sent a bone-chilling shudder up my spine. I felt my breathing become slightly more ragged than it had already been.
I heard a deep chuckle as the person pulled their mask off. There were thin lines of scarred tissues covering the majority of his face. A twisted smile stretched across his face, and the first emotion I'd seen in his eyes was a mischievous curiosity. My chest tightened in painful alarm, and I suddenly had the urge to vomit. He laughed at my discomfort.
He began leaning towards me. In response, I scooted as far away from him as one can when tied to a pole. I tried to push the panic from my mind, but to no avail. I flinched when I saw him moving his hand towards me. I hear a deep chuckle erupt from his chest. He grabbed a fist full of my hair and gave a quick, but hard, yank. I whimpered through my gag and continued in my struggle to be away from this man. He began to laugh at my panicking state. My head snapped to the side from the force of his hand smacking me across my cheek. Tears began to sting my eyes as I thought, "I'm going to die in a disgusting, dimly-lit room by the hands of a twisted psychopath."
I felt my heart stop as I watched him pull out a pocket knife. For a moment he only looked at it and turned it over in his hand. He looked at me with his psychotic smile. Enjoyment, pleasure, and excitement danced in his eyes as he brought the knife closer to me. I shook my head and tried to push myself as far away from him as I could, but my back was up against the pole. I couldn't go anywhere. I was stuck with a knife coming closer to my face. He placed the dull edge on my cheek and slid the knife down my face, down to my neck. He slid it down to my collar bone. Tears rolled down my face. I was going to die. I wanted to scream out in pain as he pressed the blade against the skin covering my collar bone. I felt the warm liquid bubble up through the incision he created; it flowed over and the drops rolled down my chest. The scent of the blood made me nauseous. He brought the knife close to me once more. As he pressed the cool metal against the base of my neck, I heard the door swing open. I heard the sound of heavy steps of boots hitting the floor as a black clad figure approached.
"Is this how we treat our guests?" I felt relief flow through my chest as I heard the deep voice of the green-eyed-man.
My torturer moved the knife from my neck and slid it back into his pocket. He still had that revolting smile spread across his face, and his eyes still held enjoyment. His voice opposed those feelings by being filled with frustration and slight disappointment, "No. We treat guests with hospitality and kindness. Though I must argue that she's more of a hostage than a guest. Hostages must stay alive, but other than that, we may do as we please with them." My eyes widened and a frightening chill chased up my spine.
"She's more of a guest than a hostage," was the simple response given.
"Oran—" he growled out before being cut off.
"Don't use my name. Are you stupid? She can't know anything about us, but because of you, she knows what you look like and knows my name." Oran was furious.
Blue eyes met mine as he said, "My name is Thanos."
Oran grabbed the back of Thanos's shirt and pulled him up to his feet. I couldn't stop from shaking as I watched Oran drag Thanos out of the room with him. The force of the door shutting left a small echo of a slam.
My body began to shake with sobs, which were muffled into the gag that was still in my mouth. At this point, I was certain that I was going to die. I now knew their names and knew the face of one of them. All that was left for me was to be their rag doll, a way for them to pass the time, and once they grew bored with me, I would cease to exist. I would just be another girl who went missing, and I would eventually fade into being just a distant memory. These were things that I could accept, but the thought of how they were going to kill me is what I found utterly horrifying.
