“The terror takes you. The cage is locked and the curtain drawn. Fingers dance along as blades, carving memories into your flesh that will leave scars long past being healed.”
It felt to real to be a dream.
That was the first thought that filled his mind when he opened his eyes to the all consuming darkness of the basement. When he found himself in that place he had so desperately hoped to be free from forever, but he wasn't. Not truly. His dreams haunted him, but was this really a dream? Or had he dreamed of his escape and meeting people who were far too nice to him because that was all he craved? He wasn't sure, and he couldn't think straight as he heard the door to the basement creak open.
He whimpered, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound so they wouldn't hear. If they heard, he'd be given extra punishment and he didn't think he had the strength to take it. His body was skin and bones, what little muscle was there barely gave him the ability to lift his head, much less move. Not like he could do anything with the chains weighing him down and holding him in place. They were only released once in a great while, he had no idea the length of time when nothing seemed to change, and the routine stayed the same. He'd grown so weak that he wondered if his time had finally come. If he would finally die soon and be free of the torture. But it didn't happen soon enough as soon, flashing eyes showed in the darkness and he knew what was to come. She loved to hurt him the most, and the night was soon filled with his agonized noises that would cut off abruptly. She loved to draw out the pain, but hated the noise, and would stop carving into his flesh with her blade to hit him with the hilt of it and daze him into silence. He was her canvas, and she wanted to make him pretty, even if no one would ever see him. Flowers carved into his skin blossomed into red and she carved into him, cutting his flesh over and over with her designs until he couldn't take it anymore and begged her to stop, thrashing desperately in his chains to get her to stop because he just couldn't take the pain.
But it had the opposite effect. Her features, what little he could see of them, twisted into a scowl and her foot cocked back to slam into his ribs. "You filthy piece of garbage! How dare you speak to me like that!" she kicked him again and he squealed in pain, doing his best to curl away from her to no avail. She was going to kick him again when something stopped her, and it was only when he lifted his eyes upward again that he saw another had come down and had been watching, stopping her before she kicked him hard enough to send a rib bone into his heart and end him. Which....was what he'd been hoping for. That act of desperation had been an intentional suicide attempt, knowing that she had a temper, that if he made a fuss she would lose her cool, he wasn't expecting the more rational of the group to arrive. "I see....you need a proper punishment for this, rat." came the cool voice, causing shivers to tremble down his frame. He knew what she meant. And it terrified him. A button was hit and the chains reeled up, pulling his frame upright in the middle of the basement. "I knew there was a reason we left the chains on today, you saw something like this coming, didn't you?" purred the angry one, stalking around to behind him and he heard something unravel and hit the floor, making him tremble harder. "I knew he'd try to end things at some point, we must show him that dying is not an option, and trying to force our hands will make things....all the worse for him. Get the bucket, I don't want to waste any blood that is spilled." The cool one ordered, and a pristine bucket that smelled faintly of his blood was placed behind and slightly beneath his dangling form. "Remember this pain well, the next time you think you can die." The cool one whispered into his ear before stepping back and letting the angry one deal the punishment. The first hit of the whip barely licked him, but his back arched in pain all the same, feeling it split open wounds that had just healed. It burned and he realized when she struck him again, making tears come to his eyes, that she was using the whip with the razors in it. Each strike tore him open more, and soon the soft plink, plink, plink of his blood into the bucket added to the crack of the whip and his crying and begging and screaming in pain as she flayed him open. She relished in his screams and noises of pain now, but the cool one merely watched to make sure he wasn't killed in her excitement.
He awoke with a scream of sheer terror, body absolutely drenched in sweat as he flailed and tried to defend himself from his demons, falling out of his hammock and still screaming as he tried to crawl away from the dregs of the nightmare that clung to him like cobweb on his skin. Before he really knew what was happening, he was no longer in his new room at the Pride house, but suddenly there with Dae in her bedroom, still screaming his fear, pupils so huge they swallowed the color of his eyes, body trembling all over, gasping desperately for breath inbetween his screams as his lion woke within him with a roar and he hugged himself, curling up into a little ball as he fought the change and screamed for his Mom, not realizing entirely that he had teleported himself there.