He opened his eyes. Steve was his name but he had no clue. Detached from reality his whole life he made due by just living off the land. He never knew human company or love of any kind, until today.
Steve made his living inside a humble wooden shed, which he enjoyed living in. However he was unaware of any higher forms of living, so he lived in ignorance. He did, on the other hand, feel the need to expand his home, just to add a few more chests of useless garbage, not because he wanted to improve his dismal living conditions or anything like that.
He made his way over to a nearby tree. Steve didn't like to do this, but he needed the wood bad, and any other option of obtaining wood would violate his body rights. He clenched his hand to prepare his wood extraction. His whole body sweated to prepare for the pain.
He observed his own hand. He saw his injured knuckles, and the brutal scars from previous beatings he had given to poor, unsuspecting trees. What part of his hand was not scarred was covered in calluses, tough from the hardships they had been put through. Was it really worth it in the end? Steve sighed and reluctantly raised his hand.
SMASH!
Pain seared through Steve's body, it was almost unbearable. He paused, and contemplated his decision. He could turn back now, it wasn't too late at this point. A slight trickle of blood began down his knuckles. He could see that the scabs that had healed over his previous scars were beginning to break. He was close to giving up, but he thought of his diamonds. He couldn't just leave them in the open to get stolen, and his other chests were full.
"Just a few more punches and the pain will be over" Steve tried to convince himself, knowing full well the lies that his conscious was telling him. His hand lifted once more.
WHAM!
The tree hadn't began to break, but his hand was. The bleeding had gotten worse. Steve desperately tired to cover up the bleeding but using nearby leaves as a form of makeshift bandages, however this proved useless. In fact, in his haste he had stuck a loose twig into his open wound, getting it rather stuck. He attempted to pull the twig out from his bloody hand, but the pain was even worse.
"Maybe I'll just leave it in there, can't get any worse can it?" thought Steve. Oh poor naive Steve.
Steve figured he should try one more time before giving up on the venture. I mean, Steve wasn't the quitting type, he had made a decent life for himself after all.
CRUNCH!
The noise shook Steve to the bone, quite literally in fact. For the noise hadn't come from the tree but his own hand. Looking down, he could see a part of his bone had splintered and broken in his fingers and were now poking through his brutalized flesh. In addition, the punch had pushed the twig from earlier far deeper into his hand than he expected. At this point there was no way to remove that twig without complex and messy surgery. However no such procedure could happen in the wild where Steve lived.
"Ok, I guess I should stop, lest it end up like last time." Steve said looking over to his right hand. He had given his right hand a similar kind of abuse. Perhaps he just didn't like his hands very much, or maybe he was just that desperate. Regardless, he made his way back home to heal the wounds of the day.
But as Steve made his way home, he had attracted other guests. The wolves had smelled the blood that dripped from his hands, and tracked him through the woods. Steve walked in ignorance of the fate his hands were about to endure. The wolves looked through the bushes with hungry eyes, ready for a feast.
Suddenly, unbeknownst to Steve, the wolves gave a signal and jumped out at Steve, surrounding him. Steve stood and carefully looked into his inventory. To Steve's shock and horror, he remembered that his sword had broken the other day.
"Rats, I was meaning to use those diamonds, but I guess I was too tardy." said Steve. He surveyed his surrounding and tried to break through the pack, but it was too little too late.
Two wolves grabbed a hold of each of the bloody stumps he called hands. They tugged in opposite directions away from each other, and Steve struggled to keep himself together. The wolves' gnashing teeth tore his already destroyed hands to shreds. The stringy muscles in each of his hands disconnected from his hands and unfurled like a pile of bloody string, with the wolves' trying to pull each muscle and tendon from his skinny hands.
The lack of flesh in his hands dissatisfied the wolves and they desired a more substantial meal than that. As they let go of Steve's hands, Steve made a dash for it, but the wolves had not given up yet. One knocked Steve over on to the ground and began biting at the back of Steve's neck.
As Steve lied there, he struggled to move, as the wolf had pinned him solidly to the ground. There was nothing he could do now but hope and pray. He felt the wolf's sharp teeth bite his skull and soon he realized that the wolf was biting his scalp off. He could feel the skin detach from his head, he was preparing for the end. As he prayed to God to have mercy on him, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.
Then, right the wolves were about to finish him off and feast on his flesh, a strange noise sounded through the air. The wolves looked up and ran off in fear. Steve lied there in shock. What was he to do now?
He sat up slowly.
He tried to hold his scalp to his head, so that it wouldn't fall on the ground. He used his pulpy, mashed up stubs for hands to stabilize his scalp, as the blood from both his head and his hands stream all over his face and the rest of his body. The only thing to cleanse himself was the tears that also streamed down his face. Then, from the shadows, a figure appeared.
"Steve, is that you?" asked the stranger.
Steve didn't know who it was who approached him, but he was happy to see anything that could offer him help. The man looked similar to Steve, but Steve was so shook that he didn't even notice.
"Please... help..." were the only words that could escape Steve's mouth. He was visibly shaking, and it was clear he could barely form any words.
"Yes buddy, I'm here to help you. My name's Brian, just come along with me." Brian said while picking Steve off the ground.
"Hero... Hero... Brian. HeroBrian." said Steve, not fully aware what was going on, but still grateful for his saviour.
Brian lead Steve along through the woods until they arrived at a small wooden shack. It was small and humble by our standards, but to Steve it was a palace. Steve admired the objects and cool nick nacks lining Brian's shelves, but the pain was too intense that he could barely focus for long.
"Just lie down on that bed over there, I'll take care of you." said Brian to Steve. Steve rested his whole body on the bed. Brain prepared something out of Steve's sight and brought it over to Steve.
"Drink this, you'll feel better." said Brian.
Steve took a drink from the small glass Brian presented him. His body began to feel relaxed, his pain began to melt away. Steve smiled at Brian.
"Herobrine." said Steve, as he slowly drifted away into sleep.
...
When Steve woke up, he was all alone. He expected to feel better, but in fact he felt much worse than before. Looking at his hand sent shock and sickness through his entire body. Leaving his bloody hands out without treatment cultivated horrid results. His hands had transformed from a bright red to a sickening purple and black. It appeared some kind of disease had infected his hands, and now they were rotting away. Flies swarmed his hand and upon closer inspection he had found maggots crawling throughout his flesh, nesting deep inside. He could barely imagine what his head looked like. Perhaps he was blessed in that regard.
"How long was I asleep?" thought Steve to himself in horror.
Looking around the room he saw more horrifying things. On Brian's shelf lied assorted body parts. They were bloody and pulsing, as if fresh from a body. Steve hoped for the best when he took off his short and looked down, but instead he had gotten the worst. He saw a large scar and stitches going down his chest.
"What could Brian have possibly wanted?" Steve thought "I need to get out of here!"
Steve ambled his way to the door, just as it opened in front of him. It was Brian, and he was holding a knife. Brian was taken aback in shock, but soon his face fell flat and emotionless.
"It looks like that drug I gave you wore off earlier than expected." said Brian.
Steve backed up into a corner as Brian slowly came closer towards him. Steve had no more options left, he had to make a break for the exit or else he was going to die. Steve charged at Brain, catching him off balance. But Brian was not deterred and wildly slashed with his knife, cutting the stitches going down Steve's chest.
Steve didn't make it far before his intestines and organs began spilling out of his stomach like party streamers. Steve was used to pain and gore at this point, but this was too intense even for him. He collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain. All he could hear was his heart beat, and all he could see was Brian standing over him.
"Herobrine." was all Steve could choke out as he looked at who he once thought was his friend.
Brian came close to Steve and put his finger over Steve's lips.
"Shhhh... it'll all be over soon." said Brian, displaying his gleaming knife to the terrified Steve.
Brian slashed Steve's throat and a river of blood poured out following the fatal cut. Steve had died and nobody but Brian could know the difference.
Brian made quick work of the body. He harvested the organs from his body, and picked Steve's eyes from his sockets with a carving fork. After that he let his pet wolves feed on the remains, as Brain had gotten as much as he could out of the body. He didn't bother burying the body, as nobody came through these neck of the woods any ways.
Nobody truly knows what Brian needed those parts for anyways, that was a secret for Brian alone. However, maybe it's best that nobody find out, lest they end up like poor Steve.
THE END.