Name: Salvation I: The Evils Which Have Never Happened
Summary: How much pain they have cost us, the evils which have never happened.
Warning: Mentions of psychical abuse. The rating may be changed in later chapters
A/N: I know I should be working on You Broke My Bones but I couldn't resist. Just testing out the waters and see if anyone's interested in this.
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Thomas Jefferson:
How much pain they have cost us, the evils which have never happened
Rene Descartes:
The greatest minds are capable of the greatest vices as well as of the greatest virtues.
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Bound in the dark, he came to and swallowed, his throat raw and irritating due to its lack of use. His hands were tied roughly behind his back, the handcuffs digging into his thin wrists. He knew bruises decorated his wrists like he was sure they decorated his face and bare chests. Where his nails were once situated was now dried blood, his nails having been removed previously.
His captor hadn't even bothered to blindfold him, his eyes too swollen to allow him to see properly anyway. He succeed in opening them slightly, only to discover he was in the exact same cold, damp room as he had been for what he was sure had been at least a few days. Dirt and dry blood caked his face, the latter coming from his broken nose, which was causing him to have difficulty breathing.
Suddenly, a floodlight turned on, coming from the top of the wall directly in front of him. He closed his eyes, wincing slightly as a tinge of pain came from his eyes. He turned his head to the left slightly, feeling the heat from the light on the right side of his face.
He tried to steady his breathing, his body already reacting to the knowledge of what was most likely to happen next. He took a deep breath as he heard the all too familiar screeching sound of the metal door scratching along the cold metal floor. He clamped his eyes shut, as hard as he could, ignoring the waves of pain.
He heard the large footsteps approach him from the left side. He flinched in pain as his captor ran a light hand over the burns decorating the left side of his chest. He gasped in pain, as his captor's hand found, once again, the large wound underneath the burn, thrusting two fingers inside of it. He attempted to open his swollen eyes again, only catching a glimpse of silver.
His captor took a step closer, getting too closer for his liking. He reached out, slightly angrier than usual, grabbing a tuff of his brown hair. He pulled his head back angrily, so their eyes met. He put the knife to his neck with his free hand.
"It's time to die, Agent Reid."
A/N Sorry it's so short. What do you think?