Cries of the Tortured

Cries of the Tortured
By Derrick S. Kreger

The school day had barely finished, the last few students were exiting the high school. I strode with confidence down the main level hallway, my music giving me undeniable presence. I was lean and strong, sharp features and a cute little nose. My height couldn’t have been more then 5 foot 5, my eyes the color of tropical waters. I saw no one else as I turned down the hallway, heading to the men’s change room. My mind processed the music, turning the strong rhythm into fuel for my desires. My entire body tingled with fresh energy I was drawing from my surroundings. A locker rattled, behind me… I didn’t have to look to tell my huge energy rush was rippling into the area around me. As I rounded another corner, I stepped down a small set of stairs, and pushing open the door, entered the men’s locker room.

A shirtless young man looked up from his gym locker, directly at me. All color drained from his face, he opened his mouth to speak. The music pumping into my ears drowned out everything, I cut him off half way through his speech. He was no doubt trying to talk his way out of the situation, how do you justify also beating me to death? All the physical pain, and weeks of trying to feel safe again… it all lead up to this moment, my revenge. I flung my hand out towards him; a thin silvery powder was thrown and formed a sickly looking cloud around him. I saw him cough, as he looked up to meet my eyes, his grew duller, and he found himself loosing strength. I ran forward, and pinned him against the locker, the poison would only lightly sedate him. He could barely support himself, and by no means could he resist me. My eyes flared with a blue radiance, and the magick came forth in a pulse. I grabbed his head and made him look into my eyes, a thin blue light shot from my eyes into his. The connection lasted for only a moment, but the damage was done. The sheer force of the magick had loosened my ear phones, which now dangled from my pocket. The link had transferred all my horrible memories of the attack, and all my hardships with my homo-sexuality. Through the sedative the young man spoke.

“I never understood… I’m so…”

I didn’t want his pity, there would be no forgiveness. I ran my hand over his bare chest, it was muscular and I felt a rush of heat and arousals come over me. I stopped my hand just above his heart…

“Understand this!”

I felt another pulse of magick energy surge to my hand, and it lost all physical form. My hand turned into an astral form, and I entered he man’s heart. He screamed as I began to tear away at the tissues that made up him heart. I withdrew my hand, and it regained its physical form. My hands clean as before it entered his heart was now stroking his forehead, like a child with a fever.

“Shhhh my darling, it’s alright…”

Another surge of energy was sent to my hand, and once more it became ethereal, entering the young mans mind. I showed him images of war and death, many of which were him dying. Again his screams rang out; his screeches alone must have raised dead kilometers away. His mind’s terror only made his weaken, tattered heart pump harder, it ruptured, and as his limp body fell to the ground my ghost hand slipped out with ease. My hand returned to normal, and I grabbed the dangling ear phones, I put them back into my ears and left the change room. The strong beat and rhythm pounded in my ears, and as I walked I smiled, such smiles are forged from the flames of hell. I smiled with the memory of the way he screamed, and the possibility of future kills.