SDS Cut

Author’s note : A cut from Chapter 26. Mainly cause it’s a little too sadistic. So I’m putting it up here for free as a Christmas gift. Please support my stories at lulu.com and createspace.com. Have a merry, merry Christmas.

Blue meets the red, and Francis couldn't help but scream as Guy set to work on him. The strand of razor inches from his face. He thrashed wildly as the tip poked his nose.

And stopped.

Wildly, he eyed the gleaming red blade in front of his eyes. Then started yelling obscenities, all the while trying to inch his way out but with no success.

"Just kidding." Guy's hair turned into a large fist and crashed into him with the force of an incoming truck.

Francis opened his eyes slowly and gave a groan. Everything's a blur and he can't really make much sense of himself right now. And the back of his head hurts like hell. Oh yeah, that kid knocked him out with a single blow. Wonderful, the first time he tried to act like a hero, he ended up getting knocked out by the bad guy and was left in a place to rot.

He tilt his head slightly, trying to make sense of the surroundings. Some sort of room with rusty pipes and bulky machinery all around, with gas hissing and dials twiddling. There's the occasional drip drip drip of water leaking from the ceiling. Judging from the dust gathered on the surface, this place hasn't been used for some time. And why is his abdomen hurting? He tried to shift himself in a more comfortable position and get some feelings back into his arms when he felt something cutting into his abdomen.

What??? With horror thudding in his heart, he put his arms slowly on his midsection and felt the thin, smooth texture of a wire.

No, not wire. He run one of his fingers slowly on it, and to his surprise, it's hair. Yards and yards of thick hair holding him down. Strands of blue and red wound around him and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break free, despite it's thinness.

Oh, great. I'm tied... He gave an inward groan, slumping back against the large pipe that he was tied against. Not just tied by rope, but by hair. How embarrassing. It'll ruin my street cred for sure if anyone ever find out.

Footsteps sounded against the ground. Forcing the bubble of panic away and trying to keep his face cool, he forced himself to look up as two people entered the room. Oh no no no no. This is bad. Really, bad.

Guy's hair lengthened and morphed into blades, cutting into the bonds with ease. Francis didn't even have time to get the feeling back into his arms before he got kicked against the pipe, making him see stars in his eyes.

"I say he's already up and about, don't you think so, V.V.?" Guy said. V.V. said nothing, but just propped Francis against the wall and tearing his shirt open, exposing his bare chest ,pinning his arms on his side.

"What are you planning to do with me?" Francis asked.

Guy had been surveying him closely, like someone who is roasting turkey in an oven, or maybe as someone who is trying to carve patterns into wood as his hands turn into surgical scalpel blades.

He felt cold terror crushing him into him like a massive tsunami. Oh no, this is like those Saw movies where the chainsaw maniac cuts his victims into bloody chunks. The only thing missing is the roar of the chainsaw.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you just yet." Guy said. "If you die too soon then it won't be that much fun."

"If you think I'm going to sell my pal Glenn out to you, then you got it all wrong." Francis said. He was about to add something when Guy made the first cut. It cut right through his skin and it's enough to make him yell in pain.  

"That was just a test." Guy said, licking the blood off his fingers as it morphed back which is streaked with crimson. "I just want you to do me a favour."

"What favour?" Francis struggled against V.V's bonds. If he wasn't weak and tired, he could've broken free and run for freedom, but she's holding him tight. And between these two whose hair could be transformed into various weapons, he don't stand a chance.

"Oh, just a little message to those two." Guy said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a piece of neatly folded paper.  "Read this and recite it."

The paper was unfolded for him to see. After he had read it once, twice, three times, he blinked rapidly and said, "Are you serious? You call that poetry?"

"I think it's pretty good if I say so myself, actually it's not exactly poetry. It's a song."

"A song?" Francis couldn't keep the scorn from his voice.

In response, he got another cut near the forearm. He couldn't struggle, all thanks to V.V. holding him down, but he gave another yell of pain.

"I'm going to need you to sing. If you get it wrong, then I might have to end up hurting you more. And you had better get the tune right, because I might end up doing open surgery, and we have no anaesthesia lying around, for your sake."

"Go to hell." Francis spat.

Guy's hair lashed out at him five times, each drawing vicious cuts deeper than the other. Feeling blood in his mouth, he realized that he had stopped himself from screaming by biting his tongue hard.

"Al-right..." He panted, seeing there's no way out of this. "I'll sing your twisted little song..."

"Lucky me." Guy said, blade-like hair arched back like serpents ready to strike.  "Come on then, sing."

Francis felt irrationality and fear bubbling within him. But what other choice does he have? He tried humming a tune for practice then he sung the first bar.

Bad move, he earned a vicious slash across his chest.

"How unfortunate, you got the tune wrong."

Now I know how patients feel if there's no anaesthesia when there's an operation going on. He turned to face V.V. who is still holding him down, her expression blank.

"For God's sake, V.V., what are you doing?" He demanded, struggling to break her grip.

The only response he get was a blank stare. The silence scares him more than the torture.

"Go on, keep singing." Guy said, waving an airy hand.

Francis felt sickened to the core but what could he do? He's on an enormous disadvantage. He took another chance at singing, he barely even have a chance when Guy slashed him diagonally from left to right, making him having a slight difficulty in breathing. Crimson pooled from the cuts and flowed at a steady pace. Soon a pool formed below him, soaking into clothes, sticking them to him.

"If you keep singing wrongly, you'll just end up getting cut off. And I don't want you to die just yet before delivering my song."

Half-blinded by overwhelming pain, Francis attempted another tune. Guy just leaned in and made a long cut. Not enough to kill, but enough to bleed. With V.V. holding him down, he could only thrash around like a fish out of water.

Two more wrong attempts earned him two more cuts, but it was on the next attempt that he had finally managed to get the tune right.

"Oh, well done." Guy said, clapping his hands. "You got the tune right."

"I take it you're not going to let me off on my merry way?"Francis quipped despite several bleeding cuts all over his body.

"As matter of affect, I am. V.V., let's haul him up."   

  

Although he's not bound by hair this time, Guy, despite physically being underage, drove a car that he had 'borrowed', after he had coldcocked the unfortunate owner. V.V., as stiff and silent as a mannequin, sat in the passenger seat. Francis himself was laid on the backseat, bleeding heavily. Guy had said that he's letting him go, but he hadn't said more.

Earlier on while V.V. had stayed with him to make sure he doesn't run, he had went to the local tool shop and came out with a large bag whose contents rattled like dry bones.  He didn't say, just smiled sweetly with madness underneath.

They stopped in front of a place he knew too well. 34th Street . The familiar apartments building, a dull structure of exposed bricks and whitewashed walls. The entrance stood open and welcoming. There are the familiar recycling bins that stood a little to the side. If you go in a little closely, you could see the dull silver mailboxes that are numbered to each apartments accordingly. Could it really be that simple?

"Here we are, as promised." Guy said with false cheeriness.

But it seemed so. Shaking his head slightly, Francis opened the door and stumbled out to the sidewalk, breathing in the cool air. Sweet freedom.

Guy had also came out, holding the large bag that he had bought earlier. Now, his hair became long tentacles and bind him around the waist.

"What's this?"

"I'm brought you back as promised." Guy said, smiling.

"You double-cross backstabber!" Francis yelled.

"I kept my word, didn't I? Now zip that mouth of yours or I might end up cutting your tongue." He said it all in a casual tone as though it's as natural as going to the supermarket. It's enough to render him silent.

Humming between his teeth, Guy reached into the bag and brought out, of all things, two wooden stakes. But these aren't the types that Glenn normally used to stake vampires, these look as long as the length of his forearm and just as wide. 

"What are you going to do?"

In answer, part of Guy's hair turned into a large cylindrical object. A mallet.

With the wooden stakes in hand, realization dawned on him, sending fear running like electric along his spine. Oh no. No. NO!

"You can't be serious!" Francis yelled.

Guy's smile became more twisted. "Oh, but I am. Killing you would be too merciful."

"Then kill me now."

"No."

"KILL ME!!!"     

"And end your suffering?" Guy's hair slammed him onto the top of the building entrance, knocking the fight out off him. The impact also caused some of his bones to crack. "I don't think so." Using his hair, he pushed himself off the ground slowly so that he's on level ground with him. A long strand of red trailed behind him, supporting him like a giant serpent. Some of it wrapped around his arms, forcing them open so that his position resembles a crucifix. He placed one wooden stake near the centre of his palm and said, "Remember what I said about running low on anaesthesia? Sorry about that."

"YOU-"

The mallet slammed through the palm of his hand like knife through butter, sending gore and flesh spilling. Enough to start the screaming of a tortured soul.