My Twilight

09/30/19

The boy who sat across the table smiled. He had an aesthetically pleasing face, but his smile made Zandri’s blood run cold. His eyes were dark and inviting in a way that made her stomach turn.

“You’ll wish you didn’t ask,” he said softly— dangerously—leaning forward. His lips brushed her skin and she shivered, pulling away. She already wished she hadn’t asked, but she couldn’t tell him that. To tell him would be to admit weakness, and, therefore, accepting defeat. She refused to admit either of those, especially when she knew it wouldn’t change anything. Her fate had been decided already.

She felt his hand against her cheek, his fingers sliding into her hair. Felt, not saw. Her eyes were squeezed shut so she wouldn’t see his beautiful face. His lips found her skin again, pressing against her neck. His lips burned her where they touched. They burned like he was holding a lit lighter to her flesh, searing pain pressing into her. She felt his lips part, his breath caressing her throat, sending shivers down her spine.

“Do you still want it?” No. She didn’t. She never had, and he knew it. This was never her choice to begin with. The power was always in his hands. He liked that, he craved it, which is why Zandri was there. She was only a puppet, a play thing for him. She swallowed.

When she regained consciousness again, she wasn’t sure where she was. She could tell it was dark, too dark for her to see, and it was cold and dark wherever she was laying. She was pulled back under the sea of agony before she could focus in on her surroundings. The pain was infinite times more than any Zandri had ever experienced before. It was agonizingly incomprehensible. It was like she was being burned alive but couldn’t die. Her body was raging with the heat and pain. She could feel the blisters everywhere on her body, feel her skin drying out and cracking apart. Science didn’t apply to whatever realm of Hell she was in now. She thought life was the worst realm of torture, but she was wrong. Life looked tame and mild, compared to this. This was unimaginable torture. Every inch of her body felt like it was being scorched, like she had been doused in gasoline and was being held in a bonfire. She could feel her skin blistering and cracking. She could feel her skin blackening and crumbling away into ash. This is where science stopped working, where science failed. Science says when you’re burnt, there comes a point your nerves are too fried, where your body becomes so damaged that it can’t feel the pain anymore. Science says when you’re burned this badly, your receptors are killed and save you from the pain. But science did not work here. She could feel her skin blacken and crumble,feel it crumble away like ash, feel her body disintegrating. There were also more concentrated points of burning. There were points along her body that felt like she was being branded like cattle, red hot iron searing her body. And there was the snapping. Zandri could feel every one of her bones snapping. Each snap sent a new scream out of her broken throat. Her screams got quieter with each wail. Another snap. She flailed, which sent waves of agony through her other snapped bones. The snaps reverberated back into her skull time. More snapping. Zandri prayed to die. The burning continued. The snapping continued. Her screams didn’t.