The knife's blade pierced through Ty's flesh like butter. The comparison made Sky laugh and his hand shake, making a jagged crimson line in Ty's abdomen and drawing out a pained howl.
"Oops," he giggled. "My bad!"
Blood was splayed all around them, covering the floor, their clothes, even the laptop's screen and keyboard. Its smell filled Ty's nose and made bile rise up his throat. The coppery taste bursting on Sky's tongue made him smile even wider, licking the crimson liquid off his knife.
It was bizarre to one of them, and absolutely normal to the other.
As he pulled the shining blade away from his mouth, Sky said, "Alright, time to stop playing around."
He plundered the edge of his knife deep into the side of Ty's stomach in one swift motion. Ty threw his head back, a tortured scream leaving his lips as he thrashed around uselessly.
"Oh, don't be that overdramatic. Those were just your intestines," Sky said, pulling the knife out with a fountain of blood pouring out.
He looked down at Ty's face twisted in pain. The boy looked ready to pass out any second. But that wouldn't be any fun.
"No sleeping," he said harshly, taking a syringe from the tray. He injected it's contents straight into Ty's arm, waiting until the adrenaline kicked in.
When the brunet jumped in his seat, he laughed again, throwing the empty syringe away. He could always clean it up later.
"No sleeping," he repeated, running the knife up Ty's bound arm slowly, creating a deep cut. "Wouldn't want you missing out on fun, now would we, right?" he turned to the camera with a grin.
He plundered the knife into Ty's side over and over, widening the wound more and more each time. Ty's loud wails and sobs were reduced to quiet whimpers over time as he choked on the blood that ran out of his mouth.
His whole body was on fire. He couldn't feel anything below his chest, but there was still searing white pain as his tattered nerves registered each second or third stab.
He couldn't see anything past his tears and he couldn't even make coherent words anymore, too busy spluttering the blood pooled in his mouth.
The knife kept digging into his flesh, tearing it apart and allowing more blood to pour out as he shook, his salty tears stinging the open wounds as they rolled down his cheeks, chin, and neck.
Sky straightened his back, folding his arms as he looked down at Ty.
"Hey, what would you be rather?" he asked, pondering. "Hash or steaks?"
Ty's brown eyes looked up him, pained and confused, as he whimpered.
"Well, you know, deciding dinner is kinda hard," Sky explained. "Thought you might help with decisions. Doesn't seem like the case. Well then, I'll let Mitch decide himself. It's gonna be a surprise!" he said, almost excitedly.
"But for that," he gripped the knife tightly, enjoying Ty's panicked expression. "I'll have to get you to the kitchen."
He raised the knife up above his head. "I can't do that while you're alive. So, I'll see you in Hell."
A red marker made a squeaky sound as it moved across the surface of a photo, completely filling up the place where Ty's face used to be. Sky sighed. His eyes scanned the whole wall, all the photos taped onto the white paint.
He walked over to the farthest corner, leaning down to be level with a certain picture.
"Jordan," he breathed. "Yes, you will do nicely as a toy," he crooned, circling the face in the picture.
"But first, dinner," he said, standing up and throwing the marker onto the table. "Mitch would be pissed if I was late for my own speciality."
