The Sharpest Lives

I leapt around and around as the fire seared my feet, dancing faster and faster as the pain filled my lower limbs. They licked at me like young puppies showing their love...ferocious, vicious young puppies. The flames were showing off their bright colours in the glare of a red sun overhead. My feet and legs were turning black as they died slowly from the heat. The sky seemed to glow another red..a darker, blood red. It seemed to be overtaken with an urge to change my bare skin a sunburnt red. My back was aching and pounding with pain from it. I opened my mouth to scream in terror...then spluttered as water tried to choke me. My eyes ripped open to reveal wide, bloodshot eyes infront of mine. They were boring into me with no glare, but curiosity. I cry escaped my mouth and he fell back, startled.

"Scaredy! Scaredy! Scaredy!" He sang at me. "Scaredy is too scared to sleep! She screams she does! Ha! Scaredy got scared! Scaredy got scared!" He chanted the words to me over and over, as if he were 5.

I would've told him to hush as I would a young boy, but I couldn't. I tried to bring my hands up to my face, but realised they were tied behind me. I was sitting on a hard wooden chair in my living room. It was almost unrecognisable. Blood are splattered all over the place, soaking the furniture, the electronics, the curtains, the windows, everything. Fear racked through my heart and head, the image of the face wouldn’t leave me. The look of terror in it’s eyes…the blood in it’s hair…the uneven cut of the neck…I was snapped out m thoughts by the psycho speaking again.

“Scaredy doesn’t know me. That’s right, she doesn’t!! Scaredy should call me sir. Hehe, I like that! Say it Scaredy, say it! Call me sir!” He looked at me with eagerness.

I looked away and shook my head solemnly. It sickened me that a thing so cruel that it could do something so sick as beheading another being could be so…so…childish?

That thought disappeared as he screamed, “Say it!!! Say it or I’ll slice off your fingers one by one, bit by bit so you’re yelling in pain, but I won’t stop. No I won’t! I’ll keep going till you have nothing but tiny little wiggling stumps left!!” He bounced around giggling.

I opened my mouth to call him by his wanted name, but no sound came out. He glared at me, enraged, and charged at me. He knocked me and the chair down and my head slammed against the ground. I suddenly got a splitting headache and felt dizzy. I could still feel him pull my hands back with brute force. The cold blade of a knife began swiping across my index fingers, tearing through the skin. I felt my hot blood begin seeping out and I screeched with pain.

“Stop!! Please! Stop!” I bellowed at him.

“Tell me what I want to hear, Scaredy.” He told me.

“Please! Sir!!! Stop!!” I screamed to him.

“Better.” He grunted triumphantly, releasing my arms and backing away. “But not much of a fighter…”