“Oh?” her lips curled into a smile as she sat next to him again “That doesn’t seem a very friendly thing to do…”
She brought the blade to connect with the skin of his arm, raking the tip along his bicep and towards his shoulder. She sniggered as flecks of old blood flicked off the blade and onto his pale skin, making them look even darker.
“Who was this… friend of yours?” she asked, drawing patterns and white scratches along his shoulder “What did he do to deserve the Doctor Sullivan treatment?”
She stopped for a moment, leaning down to pick up a flake of dried blood onto her fingertip. She examined it in the dim light, wondering where it came from. Her eyes flicked to Wesley’s anxious face and she crumbled the flake to dust over him. Brown dust… once red. She wondered for a moment how he had done it: cut someone else with all of that red gushing. Perhaps it was the control that had cancelled it out. Perhaps, in the moment; that moment of power and domination, his head forgot to acknowledge the faulty connection that had brought him down, shivering and begging, in front of her. Perhaps it was the control.
Suddenly, Laura stood up, knife still in hand, looking down on him again. Continuing to stare at his face, she walked behind his head where his arms lay, still tightly secured together at the wrists. She repositioned her feet carefully and suddenly, all of her weight was on his arms. She smiled as she saw his jaw clench in the denial of pain.
“You didn’t answer my question, Wesley…” she said in a mocking tone.
She crouched down, pinning the boys’ arms to the floor as she sat. She leaned forward, caressing his shoulder- the same one which she had lightly scratched before - and ran the flat coolness of the blade along it, not cutting into the skin just yet. She drew it down towards her, further up his arm, bringing it to a rest half way along his bicep. She brought the blade to stand vertical, the tip pressing precariously atop the thin, first layer of skin. Slowly she pressed down on it, rotating it as she did so, as though to make more room for the blade to gouge sickeningly into his muscle.
She grinned as her eyes flicked to his face quickly enough to see the colour drain from it as she pressed down even harder, turning the knife still. She felt his muscles tense with the effort of wanting to thrash away but being unable to. His jaw and eyes were clenched equally tight as he fought with every breath not to cry out. She laughed, bringing her face down to his.
“Go ahead, Wesley” she said ”I know it hurts…”
She brought her mouth close by his ear so that even though the room radiated silence, she was sure he could hear her every word: voice dripping with malice and evil.
“Go ahead,” she whispered “Scream”
He lay in silence staring at the boring ceiling concentrating yet nothing goes through his mind. He stared blankly seeing nothing, just trying to block everything out—her, the red dress, the pen knife glinting provokingly in the dim light of the room. Nothing as she effortlessly teased him. Nothing. He had finally let himself become numb; void of emotion. It was, in the way, the best decision he’d made thus far in his life.
Yet as she dragged the blade over his skin, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious but he figured that she was only trying to scare him. So he let her do her little flightless dance around him hoping that if he complied then he could dress himself and leave; go back to his own room and attempt to regain any composure that pre existed prior to their little run in.
With a start she jumped on his arms and his jaw clamped together in order to control the pain; keeping it silently buried inside. But her weight was too much and bent his arms down to the ground unusually, putting unbearable strain onto his weakening shoulders. She lowered herself onto his arms into a sitting position and he continued to stare blankly into the twisting air above him. Trying to saturate his mind with nothingness, separating all emotions that might possibility be for pain, only clenching his jaw tightly in a tiny act of revolt.
Suddenly she drove the blade of his pen knife into his bicep and rotated it like the hands on a clock; slowly and carefully. He wanted desperately to cry out, to scream, to push her of him but all he could do was clench his eyes tight and swallow his pride. It was as if his entire entity was engulfed with flames. Burning a hole into his flesh; drilling an unforgivably into his muscle.
Her voice in his ear made him want to gag, it’s sweet tinkling sending his stomach into a whirlpool, and mixed with the excruciating pain radiating from his arms he couldn’t bare it any longer. He had struggled fruitlessly against his instinct to let out an anguished cry. But his defences were pointless. The numbing wall he had created came tumbling down around like a tonne of bricks.
His lungs burst and an all mightly scream engulfed the silent room.
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