He Who Is Prisoner – Twisted Microfiction 2020TOO

….“I don’t expect you to anything more than die, if I had intended to make you suffer the cut would not have been so deep,” Jacob says with a wry smile as he closes the door behind him, leaving Mark sobbing in the darkness to bleed out alone.

“Y-YOU BASTARD!” he screams out, blood tainted saliva spraying from his lips. He desperately presses down upon his thigh, instantly feeling a river of thick liquid swallow his hand. He breathes several stuttered breaths become dragging his sleeve across his face, smearing the blood, dirt and tears across his face.

“W-WHY!” he sobs loudly. “W-WHY ME!”

“There is no reason why, child.” a distorted voice hisses from out of the darkness that cause him to jump in fright and clutch ever so tightly on the breath that now sticks in his chest.

“W-W-WHO’S THERE!” he calls out in terror.

“You could call me many things,” the voice says as a match head strikes to life and a pasty skinned old man stares back at him with disengaging look across his ragged flesh. “But today you can call me saviour,” he says with quivering mouth as his eyes fall into the darkness below Mark’s waist and his dry tongue gently caress his lips…..

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