Author's Note: I am so very sorry for being gone. I visited a place that had no wifi for me to upload any chapters. Next time I go somewhere like that I'll give you a heads up. Either way, it is great to be back and everything should be back to normal for a while. I hope you guys enjoy. You guys are one of the reasons I am genuinely happy in life. Thank you. Enjoy.
Closing his eyes Crowley plops down onto his soft bed. He swears that every single day he feels more and more human than he used to be. "It's time to get back on the ball. No more sleeping or eating. We can still drink though. I love to drink. We spend days upon days in Hell, and that is just how it is going to have to be. Suck it up and be a man, Crowley," he tells himself as he pours scotch at his bedside table. He adds the comment, "Oh, how I love you alcohol." Crowley chuckles to himself.
"Mr. Crowley?" the new assistant boy quietly says from the doorway. The boy's frail bones stick out of his flesh revoltingly. His skin color is a sickly white. Bruises cover his whole body. Some are worse than others. His gray eyes are a soft color and seem to be in a continuous mist.
"What in the world could you possibly need now? You are here to serve me, Alexander, not pester me," Crowley reminds him mildly annoyed. At a time like this he wants to just be alone. Alexander swallows hard and looks at Crowley wide eyed. Crowley groans, "Just spit it out boy!"
Alexander stammers out, "I –I can't get the blood stains off of the floor. I removed of the body as you asked, but those stains just will not come out of the floor. Sir, I have tried just about everything I can think of." Crowley's eyes cut through him just like a knife. Alexander pleads, "Please, sir don't punish me. I have tried my absolute hardest."
"Alexander, I want you to dig deep down inside of yourself. Just breathe and relax," Crowley starts surprisingly calm, "AND FIND IT IN YOURSELF TO WORK HARDER!" Crowley screams. It sends the boy scurrying into the hallway. With a sigh Crowley down another glass of scotch.
For a while Crowley lays there staring at the ceiling thinking about all of the events that occurred. Occasionally, he downs more scotch. For some time it will numb the growing pain that is inside. That little girl's laugh ring in Crowley's ears. That little girl's smile is all Crowley can see. He can almost hear her say Daddy again and again. The glass shatters in his mind, the beginning of the end.
Closing his eyes tight, Crowley starts to drink straight from the bottle. Before long it is bone dry inside the bottle. His hair is everywhere and his head pounds. Still, all of this is not enough to kill the escalated pain inside. "I get everyone I love killed," Crowley tells himself. "I deserve this. For what I am," Crowley growls at himself, being barely audible.
Crowley snaps and appears in a hallway in Hell. Gasps in cries come from every direction. Looking around malevolently for his next victim a grin, an extremely malicious grin, finds its place on Crowley's face. Eventually, his eyes land on a young blonde. Her face is scratched and torn from an obvious Hellhound attack. Tears run down his face.
"NO!" she screams as Crowley pulls her into a dark bleak room. "Please! I don't belong her!" she pleads as Crowley very skillfully binds her wrists to a table made from cold copper. In a full-fledged smile Crowley ties her legs down with several heavy metal locks. Her chest heaves for air as she sobs quietly.
Pulling out a sewing needle and thick surgical thread, Crowley tells her ominously, "This is only going to hurt a lot, darling." Sloppily, he jams the needle through her upper lip and out through the bottom. Her shrieks fill the room. "Keep it up. I like it," Crowley tells her as he jams it back up making one complete stitch. Over and over again he makes the same motions, getting the same reactions from the young woman. Tying off the end, Crowley tells her, "You are quite a bleeder, but we are done with your mouth, so now, you can suffer in silence as they say. Always remember you earned your spot here, Charlotte Marie." Her eyes widen in shock at the fact that Crowley knew her name without her telling him. Her blue eyes still have tears flowing from them. He sits down on the edge of the table. "You know Charlotte was a possibility for the name of my daughter. It was unique, fiery. Is that what you were, fiery I mean? I know you were just a little slut. You know what happens to whores down here? They get everything they dished out! You deserve every minute of this torture and pain. It will happen day after day after day until you are insane, and then it will happen again." Crowley laughs out loud. Terrified tears stream down Charlotte's torn up cheeks.
Charlotte tries again and again to scream only putting strain on the stitches and hurting herself more. In much amusement, Crowley watches laughing at her failed attempts. Slowly, he traces up her exposed stomach with a large blade. Her stomach dips in trying to avoid any and all contact with the large, sharp, shiny blade.
As the hours drag on, Crowley continues different forms of torture. Shocking her seems to be his favorite. He even experiments with new methods he invented on the fly. Each time fear crosses her bruised eyes Crowley gets a little more pleasure. Out of breath he casually strides out of the room leaving her there strapped down. A big smile forms on his face as he wipes the blood from his hands.
"I'm back!"