Authors note: this is my attempt at something Homestuck related so go easy on me, I don't have a lot of courage when it comes to uploading, but I made this for a friend of mine who asked for some goreā¦I hope I did ok :o) and of course I have no ownership over anything but you knew that.
-HONK-
It was the smell of iron that woke him up, blinking against the fabric covering his eyes seeing nothing but darkness. He couldn't move and panic arose in his chest, his heart beating so fast it hurt. "ooooh you are awake" the mockingly sweet tone, his friends voice and so close to his face. He flinched at the words tears gathering in his eyes only to be taken by the blindfold. When the cloth was removed from his eyes he saw it, the blood, up and down the walls, painting vivid pictures, his friend was standing there, or was he? Was this him? With blood on his hands and his smile twisted and broken? "No need for panic, this will be fun" it sounded like him, and yet it didn't, but there was no time to dwell on that, the pain made itself know and drove the thoughts away. It started with the legs, cut after cut placed in neat rows up and down them, the first cuts hurt but not that much, but as the cuts multiplied and the cutting continued the harder it became to take it he tried to plead, begging his friend to stop, to forgive whatever crime that made him do this, but his friend wouldn't listen "This won't do at all" the lopsided leer grew wider as he spoke "I can't have you making all that noise" at first this made no sense, his friend made no sense, but when he saw the needle and the thread he knew what was coming.
He tried to get away, turning his head and resisting the best he could, but it did no good, the needle penetrated under his lower lip first, then the upper lip, this continued, and now the iron was in his mouth, the blood that woke him up. he couldn't speak no more, his lips sown shut, blood still flowing from them and his friend smiled still "That's better isn't it".
He went to work on the arms after that, cutting away long thin slices of meat reaching for the bone. And as he tried to scream in agony he felt the stings in his lips and tasted even more blood, he could feel the thread slice thru this lips leaving them in tatters as he forced his mouth open to scream. His friend only raised an eyebrow, looking over the now screaming and crying mess "now that wasn't the plan" he giggled as he leaned in closer to look at the destroyed lips.
The last thing he went to work on was the torso, a canvas he called it as he carved away at the ribs, line after line cut after cut, and as he worked the screams grew quiet and the trashing stopped.
