Mikuo lay still and stared at the sunlight that seeped through a crack in the rough wooden wall. Then he shifted a little, and the springs of the small bed jangled under him. He moaned, but it was faint- a handkerchief had been stuffed in his mouth, and the lower part of his face was wrapped in a tight bang of adhesive tape. His hands were flung above his head and fastened to the headboard with two pairs of handcuffs. He was in a strange, dilapidated room. Large pictures of Mikuo were hung all over the walls, and a faded painting of him was at the far end of the room. In the middle of the room was a rickety oak table with a small thermos on top of it, and two cane-bottomed chairs. The door in the corner of the room opened, and Akaito stepped in. He gave Mikuo a devilish grin. Mikuo quickly struggled to free himself, fearing what Akaito might do to him. "Don't thrash about, or you'll choke on your handkerchief, and then where will you be?" Akaito said still smiling devilishly.
Tell meh what you think :3