Black Rose

The Rules.

I flinched, and shut my eyes, not wanting to see him devouring my skin with his eyes any longer. He just chuckled.

"I can't wait to mark that gorgeous body with scars." He said, and I heard the unmistakable sound of the pocketknife flicking open.

I opened my eyes to see him smirking at me, twisting the blade between his fingers.

"Hmmm, where shall we start first?" He says, falsely pondering.

I shake my head, trying to move away from him but barely able to move an inch because of the heavy chains. "No, please no. I'm begging you. Don't hurt me. Please. I'll do as you say. I'll do whatever you say."

He stilled, standing in front of my helpless body as I begged him. He smirked. "Oh no, my rose. You'll do whatever I say regardless of whether I hurt you. It's just a matter of whether you do as I say so we don't have to come in here again."

Then, with one fluid movement, he reached out the blade, and sliced it across my hip. I yelped at the sudden pain, and desperately tried to twist away. I could hardly move though. The manacles kept me in check.

Tears pulled at my eyes and I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out in pain, or letting out a sob. The man smirked and raised his eyebrows at me. "Oh, my poor poor rose. If only you hadn't tried to run away. Now, the very weapon you stole from me and threatened me with will cause you so much pain."

With that, he sliced at my hip again, the movement quick and fluid. I yelped, and clenched my eyes shut. "Please." I whimpered. "Stop."

He chuckled. "Oh, my rose, I have barely begun."

He made another cut on my hip, this time lower than before, closer to my underwear. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out once more. When I opened my eyes he was smirking at me.

"You know, my rose, I think I have an idea. Stay here, and I'll be right back. Although," he paused, smirking as he glanced down at the manacles, "you don't have much of a choice."

I couldn't help it. A sob escaped my lips, and he just grinned and walked away. He closed the door behind him as he left, so I was left standing there, a steady throbbing pain on my hip as I bled out. When I looked down, I could see the blood trickling down my leg, winding it's way towards the cold hard ground, staining my underwear in the process. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked down. What else was the man going to do to me before I escaped? Would I ever escape?

Yes. I would. I couldn't live here my whole life. I couldn't let him break me. I couldn't die here. I wouldn't.

The sound of the door opening again on creaky hinges broke me from my thoughts. I lifted my gaze to see the man holding something yellow in his hands. With a shock of fear and confusion, I realised what it was.

He walked back over to me in eager strides, throwing me a crazed smile. He held up the yellow fruit in front of my face.

"You know, I've always wanted to try this." He said, before cutting into it with the pocket knife, and bringing it towards my hips. "Apologies in advance, my rose. This is going to hurt."

With that, he pressed the lemon against my wounds and I screamed. Burning pain shot up my sides as lemon juice mingled with blood. He pushed the lemon into the wounds, rubbing it along the open cuts. Just when I thought the pain was subsiding, he used his other hand to grab the pocket knife and cut once more along my side, immediately pressing the fruit into the fresh wound. I screamed and cried, each squeeze a fresh layer of pain.

Finally, after what seemed forever but could really have only been a minute, he pulled the lemon away, a dark grin on his face.

"I have always wanted to do that. You know what else I have always wanted to do?" He asked. He didn't wait for a response, instead, he knelt down in front of me, his face at my crotch, and he lifted the knife to my stomach. "This."

He sliced into my flesh and I screamed once more, but this time, he didn't pull away. He sliced again and again, so deep I was worried he was cutting away at my flesh. I cried out in agony, screaming and desperately trying to get away from him. To no avail.

He finished slicing at my skin and rose to his feet one again, smiling at me. "There. Now you will always know who you are."

In a haze of pain, I looked down to my stomach, and fought the urge to throw up at the sight of so much blood. Yet even with the blood, I could clearly make out what he had carved into my flesh.

He had spelt out a word. A word that would heal into a scar, that would be etched into my skin for the rest of my life.

Rose.