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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2179910
If you can't tell, does that make it real?
Greeted by a torrent of filthy water, I awoke to a world of pain.

Yellow teeth grinned as I swam back to consciousness. I was bound to an upright iron rack, facing two strangers.

The greasy man holding the rusty bucket turned to his hulking partner. “Think he’s ready to talk now?”

His voice was unpleasant, a slimy tone that burrowed into your ears.

I winced, head pounding.

Grunting at the question, the bulky torturer wiped a bloody knife clean. “Don’t care. I’m ready to start getting creative; my little ones were starting to get bored.”

From his thick waist a belt hung, holding blades of every shape and size.

The two men looked at me, eyes glinting, fingers twitching.

I tried to speak but found I had lost my voice. My throat was raw from screaming, memories of broken bones and torn fingernails returning.

My body shrieked in silent agony as I squirmed against the zip-ties trapping me on a grimy metal slab.

The scrawny one with the oily hair licked his lips eagerly. “Waddaya say we take a finger off? Maybe then he’ll point us in the right direction!”

Snickering at the joke, he picked up a small bone saw and caressed it lovingly.

Picking his teeth with a slim dagger, the larger man grunted again.

“If he isn’t ready to spill his guts, I’ll do it for him.”

I swallowed painfully, rasping out a word.

“Wait.”

They cocked their heads at me curiously.

“You gonna tell us where she is now?”

Slinking closer, the greasy figure chuckled gleefully. It sounded like a hideous gurgle.

Sighing in disappointment, the massive stranger put away his knife. “Just when things were getting interesting…” He grumbled.

Awaiting my response, they stared expectantly.

I shook my head as best I could.

“This isn’t real.” Each word burned as I spat them out.

The torturers looked at each other and shrugged.

“Oh I don’t know. Feels pretty real to me, doesn’t it?” Sneering, the oily one twisted my shattered thumb as I howled.

Panting, I forced scabby lips into a smile.

“Sensory program is convincing, yes. But the puddle doesn’t lie.”

Frowning, the torturers glanced at the dirty puddle beside my feet.

There was no reflection, not even a glimmer of light shining.

“The jig is up, boys. I won’t tell you anything.” I laughed painfully.

But my revelation didn’t have the effect I’d imagined.

They cackled at me, raucous merriment bursting my bubble of hope.

“So what?” The huge man wiped tears of humor from his beady eyes. “You think you’re the first to know you’re being cyber-tortured?”

Lifting the bone-saw, the smaller one smiled wickedly.

“A few seconds in here can last years. And we have such sights to show you…”

My heart dropped as they approached; tools in hand.

"How long will you hold out... I wonder?"

I fell into a pit of despair as the bone-saw slowly carved my flesh while another knife twisted in my stomach.

© Copyright 2019 Ray Scrivener (rig0rm0rtis at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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