Thank you to my reviewers! :) You guys are amazing :D Once again, another dark chapter, so if you were upset by the last one, you may not want to read this. Once again, reviews are always welcomed.
Disclaimer: To everyone's great relief, I don't own BTR.
Chapter Three
Amelia's P. o. V:
A wave of pain washes over me, and I force my eyes to open. Blood is still trickling from the holes in my hands. I try to move my legs, then immediately stop when my feet protest. I look down, only to gag. There is a pool of blood under each foot. A small, dark hole is in the center of each foot. Blood runs over my foot, and I feel faint. I've lost so much blood, it's amazing that I'm conscious. I hear the door open again. The bag of tools is still on the table where he left it. Who knows what other torture devices are in it. The man comes down the stairs, and I immediately know that more pain is coming. A small whimper escapes my lips. "Well, how does it feel, to be in pain and know that nobody is going to find you? Well, how does it feel?!" his voice escalates until he is yelling. "Answer me!"
"Please! Stop it!" He smirks, and I see his eyes harden. He pulls out the razor. I close my eyes and wait for the first cut. When it doesn't come, I slowly open my eyes. He cuts my hands and legs free, then tells me to lay on the ground. I comply quickly, praying that the torture ends soon.
"Take off your shirt and lay on your stomach. Now!" he barks. I peel off my shirt, wincing at the pain in my hands. He pins me down by putting his knees on my back. I grunt at the weight of him. "We're going to be playing a game. You like games, don't you?" I refuse to answer, and he slashes the razor along my back. I cry out as I feel the skin open up. The wound isn't deep, but blood flows quickly from it. I start to feel lightheaded again. "Katie loved to play games. One in particular. Can you guess what it is?"
"Tic-tac-toe?"
"Nope. Guess again. Here, I'll even give you a hint," he says, picking up the razor and carving a design into my back. I scream in pain, bile rising in my throat. "What's your guess now?" he asks, jabbing the corner of the razor into my back. I whimper and force out an answer.
"Hangman?"
"Very good. Now, I'm going to start. You guess first." He carves a bunch of lines into my back. "Okay, I'm ready. Guess a letter." I press my lips tightly together. "Guess!" he demands, slashing the back of my leg.
"A." He carves an a into my back.
"Very good! Guess again."
"S."
"Nope," he giggles as he carves the letter s into my back. I feel him carve a circle in the middle of my back. "There's the head. Only five more misses," he smiles. I briefly wonder what he will do to me if I don't manage to guess the words.
"L."
"There's two L's. You're getting better." He presses the razor deeper into my back. "Guess again."
"Y."
"There is one y." I realize what he scratched into my back.
"O, U, K, I, E, D, T," I spit out in a rush.
"You are only supposed to guess one letter at a time!" he growls. He throws the razor in disgust, then reaches into his bag. He pulls out a long, thin knife, similar to one used to fillet fish. I feel blood gush over my back as he finishes the puzzle on my back. "What's the answer, wise one?" he asks, mockingly.
"You killed Katie," I reply, hoping that he won't punish me for answering.
"I didn't kill Katie!" he howls. "You did!" He raises the knife high, then brings it down quickly. The blade sinks into my leg, causing me to yowl in pain. Tears stream down my face as quickly as the rivulets of blood run down my thigh. Blood rushes from my body, and black starts to tinge the corners of my vision. He starts carving something into my back, and I pass out from blood loss and pain.
Someone shakes me, forcing me into wakefulness. I try to move my arm, only to stop when I feel something tugging at the back of my hand. I glance over, only to see an IV in my hand. A bag of blood on a hook is hung nearby. I am surprised by the gesture. Perhaps the man realized that he was wrong. I look around the room, my eyes finally focusing on a chair and its occupant. It is the man from earlier. "I never properly introduced myself. I'm Kendall. You don't need a last name. Katie is- eh hem, was, my sister. You killed her. I am going to make you pay for everything you did to her. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I whimper. "If you're going to kill me, then why are you pumping more blood into me? And how did you know what blood type I was?"
"I have my ways. Oh, by the way, I just love home videos, don't you?" I stare at him blankly, wondering why he mentioned it. "I can see that you think I'm crazy. That much is true. I have been videotaping our entire encounter. Your boyfriend can see exactly what happened to you, just like I was forced to see my sister tortured." I gasp, and I can feel the tears well up in my eyes.
"Don't drag Logan into this! He had no part!"
"Neither did I, but I was forced to see her harmed several times! I didn't ask for that!" he breaks down and starts crying. I almost want to offer him comfort, but I am afraid of what he will do to me. I sit helplessly and watch him cry. He gets control of himself after about five minutes. "What are you looking at?!" he snarls. I cringe back, glad that I didn't try to offer him comfort.
"N-n-n-nothing," I stammer. He slaps me, but it's not as hard as previous blows.
"Do you have any idea how scared my sister was? Do you?! I haven't given you any reason to be scared yet!" I gulp. A faint burning smell tickles my nose. I finally locate the source. An iron is plugged into the wall. Kendall notices the direction of my eyes. "Ah, you've noticed my next plan. Darn, I hate it when people ruin surprises!"
"Haven't you done enough to me?!" I cry out, starting to become angry. I didn't do anything! Why should I be tortured for someone else's mistakes?! His eyes darken, and I know that I've said too much. Kendall picks up the iron and closes the short distance between us in a single step.
"Katie was just an innocent child! She didn't deserve anything that happened to her! You deserve everything that I do to you!" he spits venomously. He grabs the iron and closes the short distance between us in a single step. Watching my face, he slowly presses the iron against my skin. Searing pain hits me, and I smell burning flesh. The smell makes me gag, and my stomach heaves. Kendall removes the iron from my leg. "That was just the beginning," he promises. He forces me onto my back, causing the IV to rip out of my hand. I feel the skin tear, and bright red blood gushes out of my hand. When my belly is exposed, he presses the iron against it, making sure that every square inch of the iron is in contact with my skin. Wave after wave of pain washes over me, and I pass out again.
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