My Evil Boy Toy

Bursts of tearing pain throbbed through my head. It felt so heavy and I could feel the dizziness starting to kick in. My mind started to race, half panicked and half determined.

It was too painful, yes. There must be an end to this suffering, there must be a way to make it stop. I thought to myself. I held the tip of my fingers against my temple, massaging it gently. It was merely touching it since my hands were both chained.

The torture and the beating started as soon as they chained me up. They never asked me anything, nor threatened me. They just keep on punching me with their bare hands.

One deep breath followed by another, and surely the pain could not be ignored even if I tried.

I was exhausted, both because of the pain and having to deal with it, but I didn’t really have a choice. It was completely my decision to surrender to the enemy. I knew something like these would happen, but still I wanted to see Peggy’s foster father.

I could endure the pain because for me, it was nothing. The torture was nothing compared to what I had been through. From the day they murdered my mother, I suppressed the feeling of grief. I wanted to forget everything to the point that it could never be erased from my memory.

The more I wanted to forget, the more I kept seeing those images in my head. It was painful. I kept on seeing my mother’s face while she lay on that table lifeless.

The worst thing was I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her. I woke up a week after she was buried. I felt so hopeless and weak. It was the same feeling when Peggy got stabbed and we lost Mireya. I felt useless.

I looked at the guy who landed a few punches on my face. He was around six foot two inches tall. He looked like a sumo wrestler with tattoos all over his body. His face had a long scar from his forehead across his left eye down to his upper lip. His shaved head was shining from sweat because the room where I was, had only one small window that even a small child would not fit in.