*SPLASH*
"Oi, wake up, you mf*cker," a voice sneered with a hint of malice, accompanied by the rhythmic dripping of water.
"This scoundrel is giving me a serious headache," the enraged voice echoed within the dimly lit chamber, reminiscent of an abandoned building frozen in time.
The abandoned building stood forgotten in time, the whole structure appeared to be monstruously massive. The dust, cobwebs, and graffitis on the walls and corners adorned it and a man sat in the middle of the room, confined, shackled to a weathered chair. He looked battered with the wound on his face and blood coming out from his lips. Surrounding him were five guys who looked like some gang members at first glance. From their looks, they didn't seem to be happy.
"Oi, will you fucking wake up? Stop wasting my time." The indignant figure, seemingly the leader of the group, barked, frustration fueling his actions as he delivered a forceful kick to the man ensnared in the chair.
"Khuchkkk"
Arthas came to with a throbbing headache, eyes closed against the dull pain. The back of his skull throbbed like a whore's heart; he bit out a curse and moved his hand to inspect the damage – except that it didn't move. Something was restraining his arms. His legs, too, were immobilized, as he noticed when he tried to get up.
The kick sent a searing pain through his body as he coughed a mouthful of blood. He had lost count of how many times he had been handled this way.
'It hurts' Arthas thought while slowly opening his eyes. His vision was blurry due to being unconscious for some time. The crimson boold pooling at his feet gave him little comfort.
"I…told you…I don't know" he said weakly, his face marred with pain.How long had he been out cold? It looks like he was been here for quite some time now. Maybe a month or two, he didn't know. He lost track of time confined in this dark room after the initial days. His lips were parched and hunger growled in his stomach.
"You sure about that?" The boss spat angrily at his response. It seemed as if he was losing his cool after trying for a long time.
"How many times do I have to tell you I am not that much involved nowadays. I am trying to change my life. Why don't you understand?"
Ever since he was born, all he saw was poverty. Born to a single mother, he never knew who his father was. Not that it mattered much but he still wanted to know, to get closure. Why did he abandoned him? Abandoned them? Maybe if he had a father, they wouldn't be so poor. He could eat full. Still, he had a mother and he was happy with it even though he was just another baggage hindering her from living her life fully.
But when he reached the tender age of 10, even his mother passed away, leaving him all alone in this world. He was never told how? Now he was another homeless orphan among the countless others roaming the streets of this dirtrag city.
But he had to feed himself somehow. And to eat, he needed money, and to earn money, he could either steal from others or he could work. Stealing came with risks, he could be beaten to death if he came across someone dangerous. And work was difficult for the young him. He was too weak to do hard labour and too stupid to do smart work. Nonetheless, he chose to work.
Starting from petty jobs, he changed one job after another, met new people, and somehow ended up entering the underworld at 20; a new world full of hope and opportunity and he wasn't the one to miss it. He didn't want to sleep with an empty stomach anymore. Those days of the past haunted him. So he did all he could within his reach to avoid that fate. He robbed people, he killed people - he did everything he was asked of.
"Bring me the pliers," commanded the boss to one of his subordinates, his brows furrowed, his tone brooking no dissent. It seemed as if he wanted all his answers today only.
The subordinate promptly obeyed, returning swiftly with the requested instrument grasped firmly in hand.
"Let's see how long you can last." A chilling smile crept across the boss's face that could send shivers down the spine.
One of the henchmen tightened the straps on the chair Arthas was cuffed and gagged him with a piece of cloth. Paul, the young boss, approached Arthas, lowering himself to eye level, relishing the prospect of inflicting torment upon his captive.
While two of the guys tightened Arthas's hold to the chair, he used the plier to slowly pluck out one of the nails by digging the plier deep into the fingernails. Intense pain that he never felt before flared up inside Arthas when one of the finger-nails was plucked out.
"Gaaarhhhhhh" Arthas wanted to shout, to release his suffering, yet his pleas were stifled by the gag, manifesting only as muffled whimpers. He tried to wrench his arms free and felt narrow straps dig into his flesh. He cried out in pain and kept battering at the straps with his forearms. They sawed in deeper and drew blood, but he was too far gone to notice it.
Meanwhile, Paul moved on to the second fingernail. Arthas struggled to resist, but the straps prevented any movement. Tears rolled out when the second fingernail was slowly plucked out. Tears streamed down his face as the second nail was extracted with torturous deliberation, blood mingling with his already battered fingertips. His suppressed moans became a futile chorus of anguish.
For the first time in his life, he regretted joining the underworld. He had taken countless lives, but enduring such pain firsthand himself was a harrowing revelation. That was why he had sought a different path, a new life, driven by love for a woman.
The torment ceased once all the fingernails on his left hand had been brutally removed. "I guess that's it for today." Paul declared, a twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes, and he removed the gag. Seeing people writhing in agony always brought a sense of satisfaction to him.
"Let's go," he ordered, leaving one of his men to keep watch as they departed. A squeak from rusty hinges; someone was coming in – or going out, he realized. They were leaving him there to die of hunger and thirst.
'No! No, no, no, no! Why? What have I done? Let me free. Let me go. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts damnit'. That's all he could think of at the moment while his whimpering cries feebly sounded across the room.
"Come... ba-..." he croaked as loud as he could. "No... Don't..."
He was blind, sightless, motionless, and restrained. He was as good as dead, a lamb awaiting slaughter. He groaned and gasped, his eyes rolling back into his head. He tried to close his eyes, but someone was keeping them open. Froth danced on his lips, and his whole form shivered in faint spasms, all the fight gone from him. Sweet oblivion slowly accepted him into its grim grasp; his teary vision blurred, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.
He dreamt of his life at the moment; a loving wife and a daughter that he dearly loved. He wanted to live an honest life for their sake. That was why he slowly cut off his ties with the underworld too. How desperately he wished to see his wife and his daughter at that very moment. Their faces lingered in his memories, haunting reminders of the life he had chosen to protect. He was away with the excuse of a business trip but he wished he could see them for one last time if he were to die here.
And just like that, some time passed while he was unconscious.
"Oi, wake up, you dumbass."
He heard another voice sound in his ears. He didn't know how much time has passed or how long he had been unconscious, but the searing pain persisted. Another round of torture and he thought he would surely die this time.
*SPLASHHH*
A sudden splash of water startled him awake. Slowly opening his eyes, he could see a blurred vision of a person standing near him. When the vision cleared, he saw someone lying on the ground with blood running around him.
'What happened to him?' he thought, turning to the person beside him in a state of astonishment. The answer he received caught him off guard.
"Mikeil?"
"Yes, it's me. Surprised?" Mikeil replied, flashing a smile at the dumbfounded Arthas. "We came to get ya." He said, trying to un-tie the straps.
"But how did you find me? How did you know I was here?" Arthas's disbelief lingered. Being trapped in this nightmarish ordeal had been a harrowing experience.
"We just couldn't leave you to die when we weren't able to reach you. Now, try to stand up, and let's leave this damn place," Mikeil grumbled. He didn't want to stay in the godforsaken place, surrounded by bodies lying around, any longer.
Tears welled up in Arthas' eyes, this time borne of relief. He was finally free of the nightmare and couldn't wait to see his wife. "Sophie? They didn't do anything to Sophie, did they?'
"I know, I know what you are worried about. And no, they didn't do anything to her from what we know and heard. But you need to get treated first. You can't just meet her in this condition. It will raise questions" cautiously advised Mikeil when he say the longing smile on his friend's face.
"I know," Arthas concurred, realizing he would only worry his family if he appeared in such a state. He needed time to recuperate before facing them.
**********
"Hah, what should I do? What will I say to her? Should I just hug her from behind? How will she react when she sees me?"
A week had swiftly elapsed, and now Arthas stood before his house, brimming with excitement. Such thoughts filled his mind as he waited for the moment when he could hold Sophie in her embrace once again, and meet her little sunshine. However, as he swung open the door, his gaze fell upon an unfamiliar pair of shoes resting in the doorway.
'Did she start working out? Good for her' he brushed it off, eager to step inside. As the door swung open, a familiar sight greeted his eyes—a homecoming he had yearned for. However, no one was there.
'Looks like no one's home. Maybe it's because I didn't even call her beforehand about coming home. It wouldn't hurt to surprise them.' With that thought in mind, he made his way toward the bedroom to rest.
Climbing the stairs, just as he reached for the doorknob, he heard the sound of muffled moans coming out of the room.
'So she was in her room enjoying herself. It's been over a month since we were intimate. She really did miss me, hah.'
He chuckled, anticipation filling his heart. However, as he pushed open the door, his worst nightmare unfolded before him.
He saw the back of a woman, positioned atop a man he didn't recognize, indulged in the act of passion. Is it a dream? Did I enter the wrong house? Who are these people? Such were his thoughts at this very sight. Confused and perplexed by the situation, he stepped back to leave.
Yet, as he readied himself to turn away, another moan escaped the woman's lips. And they continued. And for some reason, her voice seemed awfully familiar to him.
"S-S-Sophieee?" he murmured.
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Author's Note:-
After a long time, I have finally decided to write again. It will be a long and arduous journey and I hope you all will walk alongside me.
I will definitely be lacking as a writer because of my lack of experience but I hope you will correct me at every juncture, and will help me to be a better writer than I was the day before.