Unsure, Yet Steady

“Please. Stop.’’ The blue-eyed person begged.

In response, only a bitter laugh was heard. A muffled noise was heard, and then. “Tell me. Where is he?” The voice asked, again. This had been going on for about 10 minutes. Both of them clearly, had a lot of patience.

“I don’t know!” The blue-eyed person was clearly lying.

The surrounding was dark; a small but spacious cave made of blackish grey stone. Water was dripping, somewhere.

The blue-eyed person was sitting in a corner, cringing and chocking as if someone was holding him, tight around his throat. His shirt was torn in front. There was blood, oozing out from somewhere, and a bit of his shirt had turned crimson. His pants were navy green and torn at the bottom. He looked like a normal and a standard person. His dirty blonde hair caked with blood and mud, his jaw set.

The black-haired ‘gentleman’ standing in front of him was not so richly dressed; although, he was wearing a blazer and a beige coat on top of it. He had, not a drop of blood on his clothes, or his pale skin. He seemed to be concentrating on the man, below him.

The man in the green was flailing and chocking and the man in the blazer was smirking away, still concentrating on the man below him.

“Come on Mark. Don’t be a sissy.” He whispered.

“I don’t know anything about him!” Mark said.

The man, who was probably hurting him in some way, let out a heavy and exasperated sigh and shook his head. “Okay, then.”

It was as if the strange force had let go of Mark’s throat. He took in a deep breath; both of them did, and then was a heart-wrenching cry from the limp Mark, in the corner. He was gasping, and clutching at his throat, his nails almost digging in. And then he stopped.

Everything in his body seemed to stop working. His breath stopped, he stopped shaking, stopped flailing.

The man in front of him, smiled, more like a smirk and then turned around to walk away.

“Goodbye, Smith.” His words echoed.