Disclaimer: NO I DON'T! So go away! tsk.
A/N: Hello happy readers! I'm back with a different story. A Brothers' Competition shall be updated sometime in the week, so don't give up yet! Lol. I thought I would try a different genre so Ihope you all like it. Please review!
Bex
And thank you to my spectacular beta reader bigkihap! Your a STAR!
Prologue
I stared out at the man. Beads of sweat dripping slowly down his forehead. Looking down into his fear-engraved grey-blue eyes, I whispered gently to him, "You deserve this, you know." The man started to whimper pathetically as I pulled out the new scalpel from my small leather bag I had purchased only days ago, just for him. To see a fully-grown man cry is a weakness. He does not deserve my sympathy, nor does he deserve to live. Slowly I shut my eyes to savour the moment of glory. The moment that I would soon play back in my dreams, the moment I could relive again. I had become my fantasy. I can see my father looking at me with approval as he watches over me, all the members of the Black Guild House guiding me effortlessly. I slowly pushed the scalpel down into the man's chest, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets because the pain is almost unbearable. The man began to scream through his gag and thrash about beneath me. Just a little deeper, cutting off the olive skin that lay cleanly cut before me. Once I had finished I let my hand drift over the skin and then down to my groin, gently like a musical rhythm. I stood up and reached for the chains on the wall. The man began to shake beneath me as a cool wind blew bitterly into the open wound from the trap door a few meters away. Shivering slightly, I bent down and picked the man up under the arms, like a mother picking up a baby, and I pushed him against the wall tying a chain to one hand and then to the other. The man looked at me in acceptance that he was not going to live another day. But he is wrong, just like they all were.
Wrong.
Never underestimate me, wizard.
He will live another two to three days depending how long he can survive the intense heat and gas that I shall soon pour into the room. I built my own cellar, a cellar to keep my secrets safe. I shall let this pureblood bastard rot in hell. Once I had tied the remaining limbs to the wall, I looked at the pitiful creature before me. Father would never have approved, but then, he rarely did. I shook my head and walked into a small airtight room with a thick window and closed the door firmly. I put my gas mask on and pressed the button to activate the gas release. I only let a little in at a time, more time to let the bastard waste away in agony. 'Show them what a REAL man you are, punk,' I thought bitterly.
What do you think? Good? Bad? Revew and tell me now!
