A History of Violence [Concluded]

[Visor]

Night 1

Lewwyn made his way back from the duel, quite heavily intoxicated; free beer is something you don’t get every day. He stumbled to his house unaware of his surroundings or his imminent demise. He started singing to himself loudly, in his mind it was beautiful, in reality a garbled mess. Fumbling around his pocket he found his key, but before he could open the door his world collapsed as he felt a sharp pain crash into the back of his head.

Lewwyn woke amid waves of pain and nausea, he realised he couldn’t see and his hands went to remove the blindfold but they were tied down. Lewwyn started to feel very scared and began to thrash about but it was no use, he couldn’t move an inch. He began to whimper quietly as he heard a chair creak.

“Think it’d be fun to kill us off did you? Think its fun watching two men fight each other for no reason? Is it funny to you, Lewwyn? Because it isn’t to us. None of the vets find it funny. You know what it’s like to lose a friend? To see his chest explode before you? To see his legs blown up with mines and to see the life trickle out of their eyes? That’s not funny. It hurts. And so will this, it’s time you learnt a lesson.”

The terror of the situation had turned Lewwyn stone cold sober. A rustling was heard, one that was familiar to Lewwyn, it was the unwrapping of paper boxes. His was confused, what was he going to do with that? The answer came quickly when he felt a sharp pain on his big toe on his right foot. He gasped as laughter began to erupt around the room.

“This is the second time I’ve had to do this. You learn what works after the first time.”

HE continued once on each of his toes, Lewwyn grimacing against each one. Finally a break… until he did it again very fast, Lewwyn screaming in pain. He crept toe to toe, delivering paper cuts to his toes, which were already cut open, digging into the flesh, pulsating blood out. Lewwyn screamed extremely loudly, which was useless, as the room was soundproofed. Another break, and then he heard the sound of a drill powering up. Lewwyn, to his credit had held this far, but he began to blubber and weep uncontrollably by this point. The drill entered slowly into his big toe, Lewwyn fainting in pain.

The work continued as Lewwyn began to dream. He remembered his girlfriend at the other side of town, remembered the scent she used, he imagined it around her like a coat, which turned into blood and exploded as he woke with a shock at the smelling salts in front of him, or at least he assumed they were. He could no longer feel his feet. He didn’t want to think whether that was because they were numb or whether they were even there. He just wanted this over with.

The man started again, with paper, this time on his fingertips, the familiar routine followed but this time Lewwyn just started to laugh. And why not? It was closer to being over, his hell would end soon. The laughter turned to screams as the paper cut into the flesh, deeper this time, ever deeper until Lewwyn’s voice broke. Then he finally brought it up to his neck and sawed away at it, leaving a small cut that leaked blood. Using his finer he widened it and placed a small piece of metal in there to keep it open and bleeding. Suddenly the blindfold was lifted, and Lewwyn saw hell, and saw the carnage created.

He heard a door slam shut, its finality resonated with Lewwyn. It was a long time before he finally died.