It's up to Me to Make You Bleed

It was strange, feeling so much pain in one setting. Over the years I had been the one forcing the screams and blood out of others. I haven’t felt this bad since I was sixteen. Granted, he didn’t physically harm me too badly, but there was scarring emotional damage.

I had sex with the man who tortured me. Actually, what makes that even worse was that I was the one who initiated it all. I began mentally chastisizing myself. Why did I choose sex when a slit throat should’ve been so much more appealing?

Brian remained in his position, standing high and mighty above me. Upon intense observation, I noticed that his lip was twitching. I’m willing to bet he feels just as conflicted as I do, though I don’t really know why. I’m the one who got the short end of the straw here.

Nothing he could be feeling right would even come close to my hellish amounts of turmoil.

He dropped the knife to the ground and lowered himself to my level, resting on his knees. Some blood dripped off my face and began heading beneath my shirt. I used my fingers to wipe it away, leaving behind a smeared trail. I forced myself up into a sitting position and kept my eyes locked on him.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I bit back an arsenal of sarcastic comments. “Do what?” I sighed.

“Fake your identity, make me think you were someone worth loving.”

This time I couldn’t hold it back. A fit of insane laughter racked my body. It took me several seconds before I could regain my breath. “I hate to be the one to inform you, but you’re not capable of love, Brian. You’re a fucking monster.”

His eyes snapped upward in glare formation. “Obviously that’s a lie if I was stupid enough to fall for you twice. You know when I first met you in school, I never would’ve guessed that you’d end up being such a treacherous little whore.”

My anger-induced train of thought briefly disappeared when the reality of his first sentence registered. For some reason that sounded so strange. He couldn’t fake those feelings, or at the very least he couldn’t admit to them.

I bit down on my lower lip, cringing when I felt a bit of dried blood crunch under the pressure. So, he feels betrayed. He thinks I’ve only desired to manipulate his feelings. Does he really consider that to be worse than what he’s done to me?

If that was the case, then it looked like I just got another bit of evidence that only further proves his insanity.

*Sarah’s POV*

A groan slipped past my lips as consciousness returned, most unpleasantly. My wrists burned as I tried to move my arms. They were tied behind me around a pole in the basement. I could’ve escaped from any means of bondage, considering I was trained to do so, but rope was by far the easiest.

I found one of the knots and began working it loose, ignoring the unnatural stretching that I was forcing my wrists to perform. My efforts were interrupted when the sound of something hitting the ground filled the air. My head jerked upward and I squinted into the darkness.

The crippled Jimmy revealed himself moments later. I rolled my eyes and abandoned my mission, leaning back against the cool pole. He wasn’t exactly in the proper condition to beat up someone, though I will say those crutches did some pretty good damage.

“You seem to be in a bit of a tight spot,” he snickered, hobbling over in my direction.

“Not for much longer. I’m not just your average girl. But I’m assuming you already knew that much.”

He nodded. “Your FBI buddies will be slaughtered shortly. We have two problems going on upstairs though, and I think they need to be taken care of first.”

“What, do you want to kill Courtney all over again? Is that your goal?”

“Yes and no. Personally, I think this works in our favor,” he said, crouching in front of me. “I have a really good idea that may very well blow everything else out of the water. I mean, why kill the bitch when we could make her live through torture?”

“You’re so fucked up,” I spat.

He shrugged. “My millions of dollars suggest otherwise.”

I leaned forward as best as my bondage would permit. Our faces were practically touching. A smirk cracked across my lips. “Well, I think that your millions of life sentences will suggest otherwise.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one who could really inflict some legal damage. And if you’re dead, well, I think we’ll be just fine, don’t you?”

My smirk faltered slightly. I need to get these ropes off me so that I can show him just how deadly an FBI agent can be. My fingers immediately got to work, tugging on any piece of rope within reach. This suddenly became harder than usual because I couldn’t take me time, meaning I couldn’t properly focus.

A harsh skin-to-skin noise echoed across the cement walls. My head was forced to the side with a throbbing pain shaped like a hand on my cheek. I blinked away a couple of tears and turned toward him.

“If I wanted you to be free then I wouldn’t have bothered with the ropes, so I’d appreciate it if you would stop.”

“Like I give a shit…what you want,” I breathed.

He shrugged and limped over to a darkened corner. I heard some objects banging against each other, what I would imagine tools in a tool chest sounding like.

After the ruckus, there was immediate silence. I shifted uncomfortably, straining my vision to try and determine what the hell was going on. All of the sudden, a silver spinning object propelled forward, making direct contact with my stomach. I coughed a little as the wind escaped my lungs. A wrench was resting on the ground next to me.

Then they came two at a time, whirling through the air. Sometimes they made contact with the pole above me, making a clink noise before clattering onto the ground. A screwdriver was thrown into my face at an impressively fast speed. I tasted blood inside my mouth. My fingers were still scrambling to undo the ropes, but it was seemed to be doing nothing more than making it worse.

Another wrench was tossed out and this one hit my forehead. My vision grew very dizzy as blood leaked into my eye. The tools kept flying, hitting me like oversized bullets. I cried out in pain when one of the tools roughly hit my collarbone, sending chills of pain through my nerves.

When all of the tools had been used, he threw the metal box onto the ground and made his way back to the pole. He held onto the pole for support, his body clearly weakened by the exertion of energy that he did not have. He should be on bed rest for at least one more day, not chucking wrenches as if they were baseballs.

He reached down with his free hand and tugged my hair so that my head was pulled back at an uncomfortable angle. “Still alive?” he breathed.

“M-might want to be careful. You could k-kill yourself unintentionally.”

A snarl sounded in his throat, and I could tell that he was about ready to use the miniscule amount of strength he had left to attack me, but he was cut short.

Matt stepped into the room, avoiding taking in the sight of me. He looked pretty beat up. “Courtney’s dad is running around upstairs and is really going to fuck things up if we don’t take care of him.”

Jimmy glanced down at me one last spiteful time and limped over to Matt. “I’ll get the camera.”

*James’ POV*

I could hear the sounds of a struggle and minor yelling spells from above me. Something was happening on the second floor, and the opinions of who it could involve were very limited. I think that Courtney may need some help, even if this is supposed to be her fight to fight.

I made my way toward the stairs, nearly losing my balance while cutting a corner. Unfortunately there were two roadblocks standing on the staircase, one of which shoved a camera in my face. “Why don’t you come with us, Pops? The camera has yet to meet you.”
*Normal POV*

“What do you want, Brian? Do you want me to apologize? Kiss the boo-boo?”

His lips curled up into a snarl. He lunged forward and pinned me back down onto the ground. “How dare you mock me?”

I scoffed. “How dare you try to kill me and try to be a drama queen about all this?”

His fingers wrapped around my neck and squeezed. I didn’t try to pry him off of me. I was more interested in the look in his eyes. It was the only thing capable of telling the truth. And I was amazed with what I saw.

There was the thinnest layer of liquid that lined his eyeball. He was hurt, emotionally anyway. His eyebrows were slanted inward at a sharp angle, and the skin between his nose and eyes was wrinkled. But his eyes weren’t slit or narrowed like one would expect. They were wide open and heavy.

I could just feel the conflict raging inside of him. He wanted to kill me. He wanted to fuck me. He wanted to love me. All of those feelings could be interactive or exclusive. I almost felt a twinge of sadness in my heart. This was all because of me…because of Jimmy.

Brian was a great guy in high school. Maybe, putting killer hobbies aside, he still is that guy.

His grip on my neck kept fluctuating. Trembling, I lifted my arms up and reached for his face. I ran my fingers across his skin in circles, trying to calm him down. Much to my surprise, his grip vanished soon after. He took my hands into his and stared into my eyes.

Then he shook his head and laughed. “You’re so fucking easy.” He threw my hands off of him and jumped to his feet just in time to stomp down on my stomach.

The feeling of shock made its way onto my face before I could mask it. He didn’t trick me…but he was trying to cover his own emotions. And that pissed me off.

I’m thankful he felt vulnerable, though. He made the decision that I was going to have to make very easy. I was going to kill him. I was going to make him suffer.
A heated rage of inspiration and adrenaline brought my body to life. I gripped his ankle and twisted sharply, causing him to groan in pain. I crawled out from under him and took a fighting stance. “Bring it, bitch,” I smirked.

He shook off the pain and came forward. “Oh, too slow!” I stepped the side and watched him stumble into the closet. My eyes scanned the room for any thing that could be used as a weapon. They locked onto a couple of studded leather belts resting on the floor.

I dove down and grabbed one, concealing it behind my back as I stood up. Brian growled as he threw fallen hangers and clothes off of him and stepped out of the closet. He ran forward with a swinging punch, which just barely missed my jaw. While ducking, I pulled out the belt and lashed it at his backside. The crack of the leather was rather satisfactory, but the cry of pain that Brian emitted was practically orgasmic.

I whipped him once more, fairly close to the first location. I could only imagine how badly his skin burned. He was able to fight through the pain. His second fist made contact in my stomach. I leaned down a bit, clutching my stomach with my free hand. He had retrieved his knife at some point and kindly planted it in my shoulder. I stumbled backward and wrapped my fingers around the bloody knife hilt.

On the mental count of three, I ripped it from my skin and sent a bloody splatter across Brian’s face. He was smirking, presumably enjoying it. I growled in annoyance and crouched down, with one leg extended out and the other bent. The extended leg pivoted to the right and knocked his legs out from under him.

Once he was on the ground, I reached forward and gripped his head, sending my knee colliding into his nose. Blood pooled out subsequently after the snapping sound of busted cartilage.

Then something unexpected happened. He used the backside of his hand to wipe some blood away, though it still rebelliously dripped down his face. He stood up and stared me down. “It was you,” he mumbled. “You were the one in the apartment, covered in blood…”

My throat dried slightly, though I kept my face void of emotion. “So what if I was?”

“Who’s the monster now?”
*James’ POV*

“Get out of my way,” I demanded.

They exchanged glances, Jimmy let a bit of laughter slip out. “Relax, I carry this camera around with me everywhere, so that I can have a virtual diary, if you will,” he said.

“We just want you to come downstairs for a minute. There’s something that might interest you. It…involves your family,” Matt added.

I wasn’t sure if they had something specific planned, but I doubt that they were just going to honestly “show” me something. If they tried anything on me, I did have weapons. And I will gladly use them.

The sounds from upstairs seemed to subside, so I agreed to go with them. They led me down into the theatre room and directed me to a leather recliner. I eyed them warily before sitting down. The moment my back met the leather, metallic cuffs sprung up from the armrests and locked my wrists in place.

“It’s just a safety precaution. It wouldn’t be polite to leave in the middle of the movie. And something tells me, this might make you a little squeamish.”

I rolled my eyes and relaxed back in the seat. Matt pulled a VHS from the shelf and shoved it into the VCR. “The Art of Subconscious Illusion” flashed across the screen. The camera zoomed in on a girl strapped down to a chair. It wasn’t just any girl though; it was Courtney.

I struggled in place, trying to escape the horror before my eyes. Of course over the years Courtney narrated what happened…what they did to her…what she felt, but that’s nothing compared to actually witnessing it.

Her screams and blood flooded my senses. And then Julianne was brought into the picture. After ten minutes or so, Jimmy tapped my shoulder and pointed to the screen. “This is gonna be one of the best parts. Here’s where your ex-wife dies!”

Julianne sacrificed herself to allow Courtney a chance at freedom. I watched all of it. I watched them tear her heart straight from her chest. Blood was everywhere. Then I watched Matt rape my daughter before they assumed they killed her.

Despite my profession, I am usually a fairly calm person. But now…now my body was shaking with absolute, incontrollable rage. I clenched my fists together and summoned all of my strength. I saw nothing but red. I didn’t even feel like I was in my own body any longer. With a grunt I pulled my arms upward and ripped right through the cuffs.

Jimmy and Matt jumped back in surprise and fear. I stood in front of them, hot air blowing out of my nose. “That was a very big mistake, boys,” I growled lowly.