In This Nightmare

I looked at her with an raised eyebrow.
"And if I don't let you go?" She starred back, furious.
"You will die." I laughed, before my eyes became serious.
"No. You will." I was glad I just had the knife sharpened. It would have been a lot messier to cut her throat with a dull one.


1. Prologue

A dripping sound could be heard. A dripping sound one might think could be water.

But then there was the screams too. The half-strangled screams. The crying. The begging for mercy. Then, one might think the dripping sound could be tears.

But then there was the singing sound of the blades of a hundred knives. The sizzleing sound of white-hot iron. The ratteling of chains.  Then one might think the dripping sound could be blood.

And one would be right.

In the middle of this dark hell, a giggle could be heard. It was a sick sound. Not that the giggle itself was a sick sound, but this black room of pain and despair, made any happy sound sound sick and twisted. Even though the giggle was not a sick sound, it belonged to a young man, harbouring a twisted mind.

In this nightmare, no cries for mercy was heard. In this nightmare, all screamed was relished. In this nightmare, death was slow, painfull and wanted. 

In this nightmare, hope was somthing that belonged to a farytale.

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