Herobrine

"Ni-iixx.." I called out into the woods. Damn, I hadn't expected her to be good at hiding. There was a sudden, fast movement behind me. I swiftly turned toawrds the noise, only to see more trees. "Nix, c'mon." I walked towards the tree I assumed she was behind. Just as my foot hit the ground, I could hear a loud and peircing call. "HEROBRINE!"

"Nix!" I pushed past fallen and broken branches. "Nix!" I called. I was so stupid, I hadn't even considered the other Creepypastas. I continued to shout Nix's name, sweaty and shaking. "Your girlfriend isn't here, Herobrine." A sharp voice spoke from behind me, and I turned. "Jane." I muttered her title. "The one and only." She smiled erily, swinging her knife. "What do you want." She stood off the rock she was originally sitting on. "I want your head, Minecraft boy." I glared. What was she up to? Then Nix came back to mind. "What'd you do with her." Jane merely laughed. "I didn't do anything. I'm just here to keep you away from the actual do-ers." She sneered. "Now, I normally go after Jeff, but I'm afraid I've been given other commands." She again played with her knife. "Commands..?" "I've said enough already. It's time for you to die, Herobrine."

Nix

Breath. Breath. Breath. Breath, I was breathing, I was alive.

But where was I? I made an attempt to sit up, only to slouch back down from the sharp pain that shot through my back. It felt as if thousands of needles were being peirced into me. "Hic-" I tried to pull forward, only to be held back by chains. Where am I? My eyes felt compressed against the unadjustable darkness. Was I blindfolded? No, I could blink without resistance. I again tried to sit properly- I wound up opening newly grown skin, warm blood now falling from my shoulder and onto my back. I felt squeezed, pushed on. I was in a small room-it was drafted, cold. I was covered in deep cuts, my skin torn from claws. My jeans were ripped, my shirt torn through. No-this isn't my shirt. This is Herobrine's. Herobrine. Were they after him too? Who is "they?" What-who- what was going on? I tried to pull away from my chains, desperate. "H-Hero." It was useless, I couldn't move.

Okay, the sentence "Who is 'they?'' Absolutely KILLED me to write. Ah, the flaws of the English language.

The old and oil-desperate door opened, a tall and dark form standing before me. I pulled on my chains. "Who.." No words were spoken, and out of sync footsteps approached me, informing me that there were two people-people?-walking towards me. "Who.." I repeated my question, weak. I could barely talk, bearly breath. Fresh blood was still dripping fom my back. There was a low growl fallowed by a laugh. "Make it slow, let her feel it." A pair of footseps walked off and faded, and I could hear the slamming of a distant door. The growl grew, and something ran at me with great speed. That was when real pain began.

Ok

ok

ok

ok

This might get a bit descriptive. YOU DON'T N EED TO READ THE FALLOWING IF YOU DON'T WANT TO.
Just warning. .w.;

At first it was slow, at first I was numb. It was taunting me. I again tried to shake off my chains, creating a deafening sound through the emptyness.
Suddenly, a large group of knives when through my stomach, stealing my breath. I twitched and gasped, as if I were trying to run from the stinging pain. Again, the knives cut me, now across my face. I choked on a scream as it completely went over my left eye, forcing it shut.

Then it hit me.

These weren't knives. They were claws.

Slash after slash, the sound of fabric and my own flesh tearing brought tears to my eyes. I wouldn't satisy it. It wouldn't hear me scream, it wouldn't see my tears.

I shook violently, my head immensly ill and bleeding. I couldn't see, but I was sure everything on my was red, my delicate skin torn, flesh exposed. I could feel things tear out of place, my legs absolutely torn. I let loose and vomited, the mess langing on my flesh, creating a singing feeling. I felt sick to my stomach-if it was even still in place. It was nonstop, the immense and deep pain. The cutting and thrashing, the growling. I tried to think, I tried to imagine something else. All I could think of was the pain and darkness.
If a part of me wasn't bleeding, it was covered in blood from somewhere else. My hair was stained, as well as my clothes, it was as if I had bathed in blood.

There was a sudden halt. I could hear my faint breath, my lungs failing at being any support. The best had stopped and walked away. Was it over? Was it done? I hoped, begged, and prayed for it to be over. I had started to think it was.

Oh how I was wrong.

I heard a sound, a stone hitting upon another stone. A spark.
No.
No no no no no.
Please.

I tried to cry out, beg for mercy. I couldn't move. All I could do is sit there paralyzed as my fate was shown before me.
A little light approached me, the little stick burning. The light was just enough the reveal to me my beaten and bloody legs, as well as my killer's face who I almost immedietly recognized.

The Rake.

The creepypasta dropped the burning twig on my leg, and at first it was bearable compared to my past hurtings. How I was wrong.
The flame grew and spread, engulfing my leg.
That was when I let loose and screamed in absolute pain, unable to hold anything in.

The pain was unbearable, my exposed flesh burning and blistering-no, it couldn't even do that. There was nothing to blister. I continued to scream and thrash, unable to handle my feelings.

Why couldn't I die? Why wouldn't I die? I've lost so much blood, I'm chained to a most likely dirty and infecious floor. I'm on fire. Why won't I die?

I couldn't even bear to scream. I just wanted death, now, please. I needed this torture to be over.