My cuore was racing.
I saw him walking up to me. I knew what would happen. I could already feel the pain.
My eyes were drawn to what he was holding in his right hand. The blade.
I knew the blades form da heart. I knew the feeling of having it carve te into pieces. I knew how it felt to have it separating your flesh from your bones, the shrieking sound of my scream, the scream that always brought a horrible smile to my torturers face. I knew it was useless but I couldn't help it. I started to pull at the massive chains that were hooked into my shoulder, feet, stomach, arms... Blood started to trickle down my camicia from the wound in my shoulder, but I didn't even acknowledge it. It was like a zanzara bite if te compared it to what was coming.
Alastair was in front of me now, his eyes bored into mine, and then he grinned. His mouth stretched all the way up to his ears. I could feel his breath against my face and it smelled rotten, like death.
I braced myself.
“Soooo Dean, what te been up to?”
Aw hell, (the irony. Hell makes your humour disappear in a secondo and leaves te with bad jokes and friggin' limericks!) he wanted to smalltalk.
“Oh, te know just hanging here”, I answered him through clenched teeth.
“Ha-ha! Why were te a hunter? te should have gone for comedian!”
“I had a crappy guidance counsellor.”
“I think I should have been great in the Televisione business. te know, like a host for a quiz show”, he twisted his voice to sound più like an anchorman. “Aaaaand the first domanda goes 'Is Dean Winchester ever going to get his butt off that rack and help me torture souls?!' He's got ten secondi to answer!”
I tried to keep my game-face on and seem composed but the hate I felt inside me seeped through anyway.
“I'm sorry but I guess you're gonna have to work overtime without a partner at 'Torture souls Ltd'. I just hope that you'll get done in time to make cena for your bitches.”
I could see his grin getting even wider. It looked like it was going to diviso, spalato his face in half.
“Dean, Dean, Dean... te know, I appreciate your concern, but oh, don't te worry. I've got a fantastic babysitter.”
I didn't see it coming. How could I have? I was too busy gloating over the fact that I could make jokes, even in hell. No matter how many times I felt it, it didn't lessen the shock, the cold and the agonizing pain that shot through me as the blade sliced into me.
Because it was so unexpected the pain was sharper and più intense. I made a sound of pain through my clenched teeth. Even if Alastair pulled the blade out of my body within seconds, it left a burning pain in the side of my stomach, where my appendicitis was. The wound kept burning, as if someone was holding red-hot iron against it. The heat was pulsating through my body. Then he got to work. He tried talking to me but I didn't hold up my end of the conversation. The only thing he got from me was più screams. He ran the blade along my upper arm and left a burning line of blood after it. It felt as if my whole body was on fire.
My voice got hoarse as Alastair went from cutting – to operating. This was his favourite part of torturing and he was always very enthusiastic. I knew his routines and as always, he started with the stomach. The line he drew across it was accompanied da più screaming from my side.
When he started poking around in there I felt tears forming in my eyes and I was sweating bucket loads. I was getting dizzy and nauseous, and black spots were disturbing my eyesight.
I felt that I was drifting further and further away. The only thing I could hear was my scream that was getting lower and lower each second. I could hear that Alastair was Canto as he started to play with the exposed muscles in my right arm.
“How long can he hold, how long can he hold?” Alastairs singsong voice got to me right before the darkness swallowed me.
I liked it here. It was dark and cozy. There weren't any pain here. Pain did not exist in this place. Neither did time and I closed my eyes to blink. When I opened them I was whole again.
I saw him walking up to me. I knew what would happen. I could already feel the pain.
My eyes were drawn to what he was holding in his right hand. The blade.
I knew the blades form da heart. I knew the feeling of having it carve te into pieces. I knew how it felt to have it separating your flesh from your bones, the shrieking sound of my scream, the scream that always brought a horrible smile to my torturers face. I knew it was useless but I couldn't help it. I started to pull at the massive chains that were hooked into my shoulder, feet, stomach, arms... Blood started to trickle down my camicia from the wound in my shoulder, but I didn't even acknowledge it. It was like a zanzara bite if te compared it to what was coming.
Alastair was in front of me now, his eyes bored into mine, and then he grinned. His mouth stretched all the way up to his ears. I could feel his breath against my face and it smelled rotten, like death.
I braced myself.
“Soooo Dean, what te been up to?”
Aw hell, (the irony. Hell makes your humour disappear in a secondo and leaves te with bad jokes and friggin' limericks!) he wanted to smalltalk.
“Oh, te know just hanging here”, I answered him through clenched teeth.
“Ha-ha! Why were te a hunter? te should have gone for comedian!”
“I had a crappy guidance counsellor.”
“I think I should have been great in the Televisione business. te know, like a host for a quiz show”, he twisted his voice to sound più like an anchorman. “Aaaaand the first domanda goes 'Is Dean Winchester ever going to get his butt off that rack and help me torture souls?!' He's got ten secondi to answer!”
I tried to keep my game-face on and seem composed but the hate I felt inside me seeped through anyway.
“I'm sorry but I guess you're gonna have to work overtime without a partner at 'Torture souls Ltd'. I just hope that you'll get done in time to make cena for your bitches.”
I could see his grin getting even wider. It looked like it was going to diviso, spalato his face in half.
“Dean, Dean, Dean... te know, I appreciate your concern, but oh, don't te worry. I've got a fantastic babysitter.”
I didn't see it coming. How could I have? I was too busy gloating over the fact that I could make jokes, even in hell. No matter how many times I felt it, it didn't lessen the shock, the cold and the agonizing pain that shot through me as the blade sliced into me.
Because it was so unexpected the pain was sharper and più intense. I made a sound of pain through my clenched teeth. Even if Alastair pulled the blade out of my body within seconds, it left a burning pain in the side of my stomach, where my appendicitis was. The wound kept burning, as if someone was holding red-hot iron against it. The heat was pulsating through my body. Then he got to work. He tried talking to me but I didn't hold up my end of the conversation. The only thing he got from me was più screams. He ran the blade along my upper arm and left a burning line of blood after it. It felt as if my whole body was on fire.
My voice got hoarse as Alastair went from cutting – to operating. This was his favourite part of torturing and he was always very enthusiastic. I knew his routines and as always, he started with the stomach. The line he drew across it was accompanied da più screaming from my side.
When he started poking around in there I felt tears forming in my eyes and I was sweating bucket loads. I was getting dizzy and nauseous, and black spots were disturbing my eyesight.
I felt that I was drifting further and further away. The only thing I could hear was my scream that was getting lower and lower each second. I could hear that Alastair was Canto as he started to play with the exposed muscles in my right arm.
“How long can he hold, how long can he hold?” Alastairs singsong voice got to me right before the darkness swallowed me.
I liked it here. It was dark and cozy. There weren't any pain here. Pain did not exist in this place. Neither did time and I closed my eyes to blink. When I opened them I was whole again.
