Quinn(me) woke up drench in his own sweat. The heat in the room he was in was insufferable and stuffy, The air smelled like rancid meat, a sickly sweet smell mixed with the rotten meat smell and would make any one who smelled it puke immediately.
Anyone but Quinn since he hadn't eaten for two weeks. Quinns arms felt broken after six hours of trying to get free of his ropes, his hands were battered beyond recognition.
For the last two weeks Quinn had been held captive by a serial killer that goes by the moniker storyteller(go figure right). Storytellers whole "thing" is that he tortures those who don't have an interesting story for him and of course Quinn lived a normal boring highschool life. He had very few good storys and that was why the last two weeks were what could only be called HELL.
Storyteller had mangled his hands and feet, pulling them from their sockets with wet meaty pops and hammered them until they were nothing more than bloody meaty lumps. After doing that he slowly began to carve into Quinn with what looked like an apocalypse style scalpel, Causing rough jagged wounds all over Quinn's body. Most of the wounds were infected now causing greenish white puss to ooze out of them and making the skin take on a blueish purple color.
'Im gonna die here aren't I,' Quinn thought. the swelling above his left eye forced him to keep it closed, 'Dame dad... this fucking sucks, why'd you have to arrest this guy,' Quinn's dad is currently the police commissioner of New York, but fourteen years ago he was just a detective following the storytellers killing spree. One day his dad caught a break and was able to pin down where storyteller was going to strike next, after laying down an ambush, 3 months of police work and 6 cold body's later the worst criminal New York had seen in a while had finally been caught.
After his preliminary trial and his official hearing it was determined that he'd get life in prison with no chance of parole. Of course fourteen years later the guy breaks out and disappears for a month before kidnapping Quinn on his way home after school leading to 2 weeks of complete HELL for him.
Quinn knew his father was looking for him but also knew that he wouldn't find him in time. A choked cough escaped Quinns throat splattering the floor with small drops of blood.
'God i hate this, my body hurts all over and im sure i got at least thirty different sicknesses for that knife of his....' Quinn thought hearing the sound of the metal door opening and closing. 'My vision is blurry again that's happening more often now, guess that means im close to death... finally.' The sound of foot steps could be heard outside the door. 'My only regret is not being able to kill this bastard' Quinn thought looking at the figure that had stepped through the door.
Despite his name the storyteller looked more like your average person which most people didn't know since he wore a plague doctor outfit during his initial arrest. But since that was confiscated after his arrest he wore only a pair of blue jeans and a white tee that had multiple stains on it. Taking a deep breath, the storyteller slowly made his way over to where Quinn was sitting tied to a chair, the ropes had torn his skin raw and if looked at closely one would swear you could see bone showing.
"Well my friend," the storyteller said looking at Quinn with eye so cold they'd freeze water to ice. "It seems our time is at an end it was great getting to know you, i just wished your storys were as fascinating as you seemed to be."
Quinn looked at the contemptible being in front of him. " I wish i could move so i could tear you apart." Quinn whispered with a voice so dry and raspy it sounded less like a threat and more like rocks grading together. He wanted to yell but he hadn't drank water in two weeks, his mouth was devoid of any liquid and his throat was as dry as a desert.
"Sorry Quinn my boy but your gonna have to speak up please, you whispering again." storyteller said a smug smirk on his face. " well i suppose it doesn't matter now since your about to die. Any last words ill write them into your story as a..... final farewell to those left behind."
"Just kill me you sicko," Quinn said doing his best to make eye contact despite his badly swollen left eye. The storyteller smiled looking at Quinn in such a pitiful. He was fascinated at how Quinn could still sound so defiant even though his body was in tattered pieces
'What a truly marvelous child,' he thought looking Quinn in his one good eye. ' To bad he has to die he would have been someone great.'. Holding up a small revolver that he carried out his previous killings with, he prepared to finish off his enemies only child.
Quinn stared down the barrel of the gun. Oddly he didn't feel scared, he felt relief that this whole incident was coming to an end.
"You really have no last words?" the storyteller asked cocking the gun.
" Just tell my dad i don't blame him" Quinn said knowing his dad would blame himself enough for the both of them. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable
" As you wish." the storyteller said then he pulled the trigger.