Agony
[1]
He didn't know where he was and his head ached terribly. It was pitch black and he couldn't even see his own body.
He was in a chair, his arms fastened to its arms and his legs fastened to its legs.
Whatever crap was used for the binding, he didn't know if he'd ever felt anything like it before. It was soft like rubber, and there was plenty of yield. But when he pulled his arms or his legs past a certain point, the binding just snapped his limbs back to the chair. It was like taffy.
"Where am I? Hello?! Someone help!"
He didn't know how he got here. He only remembered
(a drink)
that he'd been at the Black Horse with two friends. Their faces were hazy even now. One of the friends got a call on the phone and had to leave. His friend went up to talk to some girl and whatever he said must have worked because then they were gone too.
Then he was at the bar by himself. After that...
A door somewhere on the left suddenly opened and white light trickled in. A woman came through the threshold. She was holding a long candle...or he thought it was a candle. No...there was no fire but a strong light. It was a flashlight. It had to be a flashlight. Although the body was extremely thin and long. Perhaps that wasn't so strange, because flashlights came in different shapes and sizes.
What was strange, is that the woman wasn't pointing it at him, but up toward the ceiling. What was also strange is it wasn't casting a cone of light.
No, instead at the tip of the flashlight was something like a sphere of light. An actual sphere that wasn't connected to the body at all. What the actual hell?!
The meager but strong light illuminated at least a portion of the room dark room, showing that the walls were
The woman closed the door behind her.
"W-who are you?" he said.
"W-what is this p-p-place?"
The woman didn't answer, but kept walking towards him. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest and he was already crying. Images raced through his mind:
-his nails being pried off one by one, before his digits were cut off. Then his arms.
-a knife popping both of his eyes before slitting his throat.
-that same knife carving satanic symbols across his torso.
-lit cigarettes burning his skin here and there, before she came in with a canister of gasoline.
-a funnel being jammed into his mouth and bleach being poured in.
-a heavy caliber gun turning him into swiss cheese.
-a metal baseball bat to make his head look like Glenn's after Negan was done with him.
Or maybe she would do nothing of the sort, but each day give him two cups water to drink. He would ask for food, but she would give him the two cups of water and walk out. Even when his stomach roared like a leviathan. Even when he begged. Even when he cried. Even when he visibly thinned as his body started eating itself alive. She would give him two cups of water and walk out. Each day.
He began to scream.
The woman pointed the flashlight at him, said something that sounded like the word "Silence."
And his mouth slammed shut. There was an audible clack as the teeth stamped together.
He still tried to scream, and managed nothing other than muffled gasps.
[2]
"I'm sorry to have you bound up like this." the woman said. He looked at her with wide, frightened eyes. He took a good long look at her. She looked nothing like what he thought a serial killer and kidnapper would look like. He'd read plenty of Dean Koontz. There were manic serial killers and stoic ones. Manic killers were like grownup children, throwing tantrums and violently assaulting anyone who stopped them from getting what they wanted. They killed because they got off on it. It got them wet or hard. Life was nothing without murdering someone who couldn't defend themselves.
Stoic killers had faces so calm they might have been slabs of granite. They talked with smooth, eerie voices which would sometimes disturb you but sometimes put you into a false sense of security. Stoic killers looked and often acted like every day people. They could be police officers, or building inspectors, or businessmen. They killed for profit, or because they had to attain some kind of utopia.
But this woman, she didn't really look like either type. He would swear—even months later—that he was the most frightened person in this room at this time. But this crazy bitch, he thought, was a very close second. She had a narrow, beautiful face, but her nose was gigantic, which would have been funny if he wasn't strapped to a chair.
And the flashlight, it wasn't a flashlight. He had no idea what it was or what was going on.
"I'm really sorry to have you here like this." she said.
My God, she even sounded frightened—and not just that but terrified.
"I can ungag you." she said softly. "But I need you to promise me you won't scream."
His heart hammered in his chest. He had no idea how she had gagged him in the first place when there was nothing over his mouth. But when she ungagged him, he was going to scream until his throat exploded.
"If you scream," her eyes narrowed, "I'll just gag you again. But this time, I won't remove it. I'll leave you down here in the darkness. You'll hear sounds from outside, and you'll wonder if it someone who found this place, someone coming to investigate me, someone coming to rescue you. But that someone will never come."
He was crying at this point.
"Do you promise?"
He nodded, still weeping like a baby. The woman said some words he didn't understand, and he could move his mouth again. He remembered what he said and considered screaming anyway. But that would make things so much worse.
"Do you remember me?" she asked.
That question confused him. Enough to turn the waterworks from a flood to a drizzle. It just didn't make any sense.
He stared at her for what felt like hours. She had nothing on but a nightgown, as if she was going to bed directly after this. It was slightly transparent and fetchingly showed her panties and bra underneath, but he obviously wasn't fetched.
He tried placing her face. It was somewhat familiar, but not much.
"I had to stun you in order to get you down here." she said. "Do you remember that?"
He thought about it.
"I don't remember anything after I sat down at the bar. I remember something red, like a traffic light."
"That's what you think that was?"
She wasn't making any sense. "What does it matter if you're going to kill me?" he gulped. "Are you?"
"No."
"Then let me go." he said. "Please?"
"Not yet." she said. "I have to run some tests first."
The flashlight with the floating light bobbed and she said something that sounded like incendiary. All of a sudden, there were candles light up in the corners of the room.
"What the hell?" he gasped. "What is going on?! What is that thing?! What are you?!"
She looked at him and answered in order: "I kidnapped you. This thing in a magic wand. And I'm a witch."
"I think bitch is more accurate."
She laughed, and it was genuine laughter with not a hint of sarcasm in it.
"What the hell are you talking about magic? This isn't Final Fantasy. There's no such thing as magic."
"There is such a thing as magic." the crazy woman said. "Watch."
She said something that sounded like the word "Expect" and from tip of the flashlight/wand began to shine with soft silver light.
It's a trick. It has to be a trick.
The light immediately took shape. It broke off into bulbs, which then changed into sparrows. In spite of them flapping their ghostly wings, there were no fluttering sounds. With each flap came an eldritch whisper that he could only barely here.
"W-what the hell is this?" he said softly.
The lunatic favored him with a satisfied smile. "Magic."
"Bullshit."
"You think so." she asked, smiling. "It doesn't matter. I have to run some tests."
"Tests?"
"Yuh-huh."
She turned and left the room. There was no light in the doorway that he could see.
Tests. He didn't like the sound of that.
More pictures came to mind, but these had no form or color. This wasn't a physical fear he was feeling right now. He was staring into a deep abyss, in which monstrous shadow figures crawled and slithered. Their movements—hidden. Their shape—uncertain. Their nature—unknown.
And that stuff that was coming out of the flashlight. What the Christ was that about? It couldn't really be what she was saying it was, could it?
The door opened and the psycho came back into the room, holding two massive shopping bags of all things. Whatever was in there was heavy. The muscles on her arms were in sharp relief and sweat shined on her forehead.
"The hell is that?"
"Be quiet."
She put the bags down with a heavy thomp!
And went back out. Then came back with two more bags.
He could see little feelers poking out of the tops and he was sickened. Bugs or some weird shit like that.
Then she reached in and pulled one of those feelers out. It wasn't a feeler at all but a stick of wood just like the one she was holding.
"You like Naruto?" she said, seemingly at random.
"You're a damn lunatic."
"One of my s—" she paused. "Someone I know really likes Naruto."
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"Stop interrupting me." she warned.
He glowered at her and said nothing.
"In that story, the people can use chakra. Everybody can use chakra. But in order for them to use the ninjustu, they have to do that weird stuff with their hands. It looks like sign language, but I can't remember what it's called."
What did any of this have to do with anything?
"Wands are like that. You have to wave them differently for certain spells."
"I can't believe I'm listening to this." he muttered.
"You need to listen." she warned. "You won't be able to leave until you make this work."
This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't—
"I have to use the bathroom." he blurted out.
"No, you don't." she said with complete certainty. "You went before I stunned you."
"I have to take a shit." he was reaching now.
"No, you don't." she said. A small, wincing smile played across her face. "You shit yourself after I stunned you."
Damn it. Plan B.
"Look here...ma'am."
She laughed at that, like he'd told the funniest joke in the world. "Ma'am? That's a riot."
"You don't seem like a bad person."
"Thank you." she said, and she smiled. Not a smirk. A pure, genuine smile. She wasn't mocking or being sarcastic in any way. She truly accepted the compliment.
"I don't know what the hell is going on or what the hell is in your head. But I do know this: I'm not like you. I can't do whatever this is that you're doing. This magic—if that's what this is—there's no way I can do it. I don't have powers like that."
Her smile fell away. Any hint of good humor was completely gone. He screwed up and he knew it but he kept going.
"I can't do this magic shit. I know I can't. So please...I'm begging you. Just let me—"
"You're wrong." she said.
"Lady, listen—"
"No, you shut up and listen." she said gravely.
He gulped.
"Don't talk like them."
"Like who?"
She shook her head violently. "It doesn't matter. Everyone can do it. My father was in Records. I saw them. I know that everyone can do magic!"
"You're not making any sense."
"And you're stalling!" she snapped. "You said you can't do magic when you've never even tried it! What're you afraid of? I have an idea."
His voice trembled as he spoke. "I'm afraid of you."
She shook her head. "No. You're afraid that I'm right. You think you're weak and pathetic. It's an excuse. Of course you won't succeed because you are weak and pathetic, so why even try at all? Why not just spend all day and all night drinking at a bar with your head on the table? And if it turns out that I'm right and you do have power, if it turns out you can do amazing things, then you don't have any more excuses, then. Do you?"
"Please let me go."
"Enough." she said. "No more arguing. If you don't shut up, I'll gag you again."
He said nothing.
"Do you want to me to gag you again? This experiment is going to happen either way and I don't need you to talk to respond to my directions."
He closed his eyes. Tears ran down his face. "I don't want you to gag me."
"Good." she turned to the box on the floor, taking out a wand. She brought it over to him.
[3]
"Hold this."
He held it.
"What do you feel?" she asked.
"The wood." he said. It was actually pretty nice wood, varnished and all that shit.
"No, I mean what do you feel on the inside?"
"Scared. Frightened. Terrified. Hungry."
She gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh Merlin, I'm going to gag you."
"What exactly do you want me to say?" he snapped. And what did the Knights of the Round Table have to do with anything?!
"How does the wand make you feel? Does it make you feel warm? Cold?"
"I don't feel anything."
"Okay." she grabbed it and put it on the floor. She had a pen in one hand and a notebook in the other. She was writing something down.
"Did you...always have those things on you?" he asked.
She didn't answer. Put the stuff away somewhere. Took another wand out of the box. This one looked ugly, little more than an actual branch from an actual tree.
"This one?"
"I don't feel anything."
A straight, black one.
"This?"
"No."
A bumpy looking one.
"How 'bout that?"
"Nothing."
An actual pretty beautiful and ornate silver one. It felt almost silky in his hands. But...that smooth feeling—that was all.
"I don't feel anything."
"Don't feel too bad." she said with genuine sympathy. "You don't choose the wand. The wand chooses you."
Wasn't that just precious? The most spiritual Eastern monk on the planet would be gasping for breath on the floor right about now.
But the humor of it was immediately lost when she forced another one into his hand.
[4]
And so on and so on.
Wand in hand.
It went on forever.
I don't feel anything.
She cocked her head at him at one point.
"You think I'm lying?" he asked.
She smiled. "No. The last guy did. And the woman before him. They told me what they thought I wanted to hear...and I did want to hear it. Then we went to the next part of the test and I quickly figured out they were lying. I wasn't happy."
His mind filled with unpleasant things best left undiscovered.
On and on. He hoped that she would realize her mistake. That if he tried enough wands, she would realize that he hadn't been lying before: he really couldn't do magic...or whatever it was.
Again and again. Each time, she scribbled something in her stupid notebook.
She was started to get frustrated. He could tell because her frown was starting to deepen, and she stopped saying it's all right and that's okay.
And so on and so on and the man in the chair fell into annoyance...and then despair. He remembered being so afraid that she would murder him in some gruesome fashion. Now, he would have preferred that. Because that at least meant the suffering would at one point come to an end. But this? He was afraid this nonsense would never end.
Thankfully, it did.
[5]
They were perhaps 100 wands in—but probably more—when she gave him one that was different. Compared to the others, it was quiet plain: brown and short, with a few knots here and there.
She gave it to him. He grabbed it.
There was a strange warmth coming from it. Not intense, like putting his hand to a fire. It was pleasant...even soothing. He felt good.
Something must have showed on his face. "What is it?" she asked hopefully.
"This one feels warm."
"Really?"
"Yes. It makes me feel warm too."
She cocked her head at him again.
"You aren't lying, are you?"
"I'm not lying." he said, with more than a little anger in the tone.
She said: "That wand is a lot like mine. Hungarian Horntail dragon heartstring."
Nonsensical words that meant nothing to him.
"No...wait..."
"What?"
The warmth was beginning to fade.
"It's going away."
Stupidly, he clenched the wand tighter, in some ridiculous attempt to keep the warmth in. But after a few seconds, it was completely gone.
"It's gone."
He looked at her, thinking she would be furious. Instead, she was beaming.
"This is great!"
Was it? He didn't say anything.
"This proves what I was talking about before."
He wasn't so sure but didn't say anything. If she was happy, maybe she would allow him to leave sooner rather than later. It was doubtful but...
"Now what?" he asked.
She smiled at him, making his blood run cold. "Now, Test 2."
[6]
It was something she called the "Levitating Charm." It was supposed to do exactly what the name implied.
There was supposed to be a kind of movement to it, so she had to release one of his bonds. Speaking of which, he finally got a chance to look at them. The bonds were pitch-black in appearance and just as stretchy—but ultimately strong—as they had appeared in the darkness.
"I'm trusting you a little bit." she said gravely. "Just like I trusted the other two."
"Okay."
"Your other limbs will stay stuck." she said. "Don't mess this up, okay? Don't mess this up and try anything cute."
"Okay."
"I won't kill you. I don't want to hurt you at all. But I will. You best believe that."
He looked at her overbright eyes and sweating face and believed it entirely.
She flicked her wand and the bond snapped apart with an audible pop.
She went behind him somewhere, not saying anything. He was nervous for a second, and then she was back in view. In her left hand was a simple twig.
"You're going to try and make this float in the air."
The first thing he thought was I can't but he stopped before the words were out. She wouldn't like them.
"First the incantation." she said.
The woman said two words that sounded like complete bullshit. The first one had "wings" in it and the second had "levi."
It took him a few tries to get them right. His first try was so bad it made her laugh and he felt the flush on his face of old shame. It wasn't the first time a woman had laughed at him and wouldn't be the last.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
"That's right as rain."
He nearly rolled his eyes.
She showed him the wand motion, which was basically a downward slash and a point at the object.
"Wingardium Leviosa." he said and did the wand motion, feeling twice as stupid as he had before. Of course, the wand responded by doing absolutely nothing.
She had him try again and again.
Nothing. No dice.
"That's okay." she said. We'll keep trying."
She plucked the wand from his hand. "Maybe that one wasn't right for you after all."
She muttered to herself. "But why was it warm, then?"
The woman shook her head, dark hair waving across her shoulders.
"Doesn't matter. We still have over 200 wands to go through."
He wanted to scream.