Thread: The one with the broken woman.

He saw it, saw it all, how the thin flesh was cut, how, each day new scars were given and how the old wounds turned their color to gentle purple. He particularly loved how the green eyes of the woman, that he had become so fond of lost all their shine, just like a new boot getting older and day by day losing its brilliant shine. Then he experienced how her eyes dried up, at first there was a river of tears in them, the tears came out like they were crystals, but soon that crystal river started to dry up, it seemed like a drought had happened, but in truth the woman just became used to the pain. His eyes also witnessed how each day the skin became thinner and thinner, and all the bones were at display, it was amusing, he craved the sensation, he wanted it to go on and on, he wanted to see the limits, but concluded that there were none. Just like a good movie where sound also played an important part, for him, it was the sound which pumped his darkened, long dead heart, it kept him interested, from the sound of the razor sharp knife cutting the skin to the screams which he found rhythmic, like experts playing orchestra. Screams sounded like heavy violin were being played. His ear drums found the vibrations produced by the woman's hitched breaths lovely, he confessed that he got addicted to that. Each time a torturing instrument was placed over the other, or collided with the chains that kept the woman in her place, a gentle voice changed the atmosphere. It played as the calm before a bloody storm. The room had a great significance, when he was summoned, it was a clean room, unlike before, the room looked liked it belonged to a cheery child, stars that illuminated each time the lights were turned off, were all over the ceiling, the right wall had hand made drawing, rough lines actually over it, the left one had a beautiful shelf that had no books, but no dust either, but then he noticed the back wall, the sterilized instruments in the bucket placed a surface that touched the wall, he bet the paint was much more lighter behind the surface, he was right in the end. The floor was a bit inclined with a water drainage in a corner, he found it useful, after all all the mess that the drops of blood and sweat made had to go somewhere. At first, the scent in the room clearly showcased it was a room that belonged to an eleven years old, but in the end he was not sure anymore, how many years had been passed there, he didn't count anymore, he was much more absorbed in his own pleasure, then there were no birthdays to remind him that a year had passed and the cold in the winter, the heat in summer, fresh breeze in the spring and the humidity in the monsoon never had enough effect on his brain to tell him that what season he was in. Everything was dull to him, but this room that dwelled in darkness and as the room gradually became darker, as the paint started to turn gray, as the drainage blockage started, the instruments started to become crude and the smell in the room started got pungent, it started to become much more colorful to him, oh how he loved the change, maybe this was the first change that he noticed in long and even liked. His gray eyes never adored the woman, especially when she was young, when she was all cheery, when her skin was never touched, with the passage of time each scare made the woman more beautiful at least to him. Even the dull eyes and dark bags under her eyes were cherished by him. He enjoyed the torture for a long time, he had found his favorite show, and he was the only audience for it, he was the special guest, he was the only guest, but then it started to lose its touch. He remembered the pitch of every voice in the room, there were a total of three, because he remained silent all the time, well, he cheated a bit in the end, but other than that, he respected the performance and kept his mouth closed, just like he kept his presence, surrounded by pitch perfect darkness that never showcased how beautiful his own eyes were. The voices were clean at first, clear and crisp, they took pleasure in their work. They never wore gloves, why would they? As they never touched someone who was not their own. The victim was more energetic at first, she could speak, she even threatened the one who controlled things, but in the end fear won and hope gave up. The three kept their 'showcase' lives at first, wore perfect masks that hid them from other people, no one ever suspected anything, 'he' found it most amusing, but then it changed, and he did not welcome the change this time. They started to indulge it more and more over their victim, the monthly performance became weekly, then fourth night, then twice a week and in the end daily. He didn't like it, his presence was needed more and more than that, he didn't like how they stole the woman's personal life from her, they made her dull and used to the pain, they were no more screams, the so loved screams, and the two who handled things became slow, they didn't take care of the things they used, he hated how the sharp edges became crude. He tried his best to love the pain that was given to the other with these crude equipment, but he found it senseless, this was not professional, why in the God's name the parents became so bad at what they did best. This was not the performance that he enjoyed, bad parents, they were becoming and he was not liking it and he decided to come out of the shadow, for the first time and he allowed the lights to show his presence. It was only her when he came out of the darkness, he left his favorite spot, he was waiting for the show to begin, but the parents were not there they were in the house, he could hear the footsteps, can't they see their precious daughter was waiting, not her mind, but her skin. He lost it, and decided to take things in his hands. Big mistake from his end, first mistake from his end, the mistake his heart loved and the last mistake that his brain hated, another change, but this one was acceptable. I know you are there. It shocked him, the voice, it was a lost feeling that he just had got back, she saw him, the woman, he hid himself well from all the eyes, from every single eye, all six eyes that there were, and the countless eyes that surrounded the house. Yes, I am he answered, his voice was soft, gentle, a bit annoyed because the show was not good anymore. Did I please your eyes the woman asked, her grim voice was welcomed. You did, when you were young, you lost your touch now, the show isn't good anymore he stood in front of the other, his tall figure only showcased his eyes and the big and wicked smile that he had over his face. I want a reward the woman demanded, even in this state she was able to uphold her voice, but not her figure, not that well. You got it the figure replied, it had already begun, the melting of their core his hand grasped the other's face, he could crush it without much force, he could see every vein and the jawbone was so crumbly that even for him it was hard to keep holding her face without the fear of breaking any bone. Can you hear it, Emma? he asked, his eyes looking right into the other's, restoring the shine that once was lost. It was the woman's reward of serving his eyes for eleven years. With a nod of her head the woman replied, she could hear the voices, the voice of her parent, the bad show runners, full of agony and pain and he could see a wicked smile on her face now, one that challenged his smile, like everything she had been through have passed, oh, but it was not the end, and 'he' knew it and didn't like it. He could do many things, the mysterious man, but there were things he was forbidden to do and changing the future or past were one of them, Allan-. His eyes perked up, he didn't understand, 'humans' were so strange. I will call you Allan from now on the woman let out, her voice was muffled under her weak breaths. Someone had, after all, done it, bounded the roaming figure with the given name, and 'he' now Allan was not smiling anymore, he was being played, deceived in a sense and thus a remarkable story flourished after getting nourishment from the woman's pain.