Being saved

"Arghh."

Daylen was whipped on the back harshly. The man did not take kindly to him falling asleep. He was not pleased by the fact that he wasn't conscious to witness the torture that he wished to inflict on him.

He opened his eyes, and his eyes were moistened but there were no tears left to shed. His voice was sore and painful, the wounds from yesterday had not healed yet and already more were inflicted on him.

His toes had gotten tired of supporting his body, the more he struggled and moved around the tighter the chains got around his hands, the chains were cutting through his hands.

Blood trickled down Daylen's hands and fell on his open chest. His back was getting covered in blood as the man kept ripping at him with the whip. He clenched his hand and dared not close his eyes.

His lower lip was bleeding from how much he bite at it. The blood oozed out of his wounds, the whips creating new bruises on his back and opening up old wounds.

The pain was excruciating, it tormented his mind. He wondered what wrong he had ever done to those people for them to hate him so much.

They enjoyed inflicting wounds on his body, starving him, and breaking his will to live every single day. Since he was young, this had been his life.

At first, the pain was bearable, he had hope of getting saved and finding happiness. That was the time when he used to believe in fairy tales.

Where he believed that someday his prince charming would come and save him from his misery. He gave himself hope that for him, he should stay strong and endure it.

But over time he was forced to accept reality, there were no such things as prince charmings in real life. And no one was ever going to come to save him. Daylen was not a princess and had no fairy godmother.

He was a slave who can't even recall the last time that he saw the sun and the moon. They became just like fairy tales to him, a myth.

Daylen could neither remember how warm the rays of the sun were nor how long it was since they fell on his body. Or how beautiful the moon used to be, keeping the darkness of the night from the world.

He lived a sad life, with no moon or sun. Each moment of his life was filled with darkness. Without a brave knight to ever bring light back into his life.

"Sleep again and see," the man challenged him.

He forcefully grabbed his right nipple and massaged it. Daylen couldn't stand the thought of the devil touching his skin with his filthy hand. He imagined himself laying inside his coffin dead and finally at peace.

Daylen's body was growing numb to all feelings, he thanked the stars for that. Having to feel that man's hand on him would have been worse than the torture he had endured so far.

Just then he heard screams, the people outside the room were screaming at the top of their voices, and hurried movements could also be heard.

The devil stopped in his advances and was attracted to the noise outside. Daylen's weight forced him to drop to his feet. An unbearable pain coursed through his body from his feet.

"What is going on?" The man barked. He waited for the guards outside the door to reply to him.

Daylen had no strength to lift himself to his toes again. With no other options, he was forced to accept his reality and accept his fate. He endured the pain quietly.

The man turned his attention to the door, he wondered why the guards didn't reply to him. As the house was filled with so much noise, he made a move towards the door. He exited the room and locked the door behind him.

With the man gone from the room, Daylen could get a few minutes to close his eyes. Without hesitation, his eyes closed shut. His mind drifted away, with him bleeding more and more from the strain of the chains.

'Why does death hate me?' he thought.

Some people get hit once by a car and die, and others fall asleep never to wake up again but with him, despite everything that he had gone through. He was still forced to embrace life.

It was unfair, death came to those who wanted nothing to do with it neglecting those who truly needed him. Daylen longed for the day that death would free him from the hell, which he called life.

His ears caught the sounds of footsteps approaching him. The footsteps were different from the ones that he was used to. So Daylen forced his eyes open to see what new devil the cursed door had brought to him.

Daylen forced his eyes to glance at the beast that had walked in. He could only see his boots, his exhaustion stopped him from lifting his head to see the man's face.

His eyes closed once again. He noted in his mind the brown boots that he saw, he might not have seen his face but was sure to recognize him with his boots if he comes to him again. 

Daylen's head falls to his shoulder as he finally loses consciousness.

The man that walked into the room removed the chains from the hook and gently lowered Daylen into his arms, he held him as though he was a delicate glass that would break if he wasn't careful.

He took out his jacket and wrapped it around Daylen's body. He laid Daylen's head on his chest and let him rest there.

He glanced down at his face, there was no pity in his eyes but only admiration. He had seen the wounds on Daylen's body, and to have endured all that without giving up made him proud of the male.

It showed that Daylen was a strong man and he noticed that of him. He carried him bridal style in his arms, Daylen's face was covered in dirt and blood for the man to see his face.

The man didn't mind how dirty Daylen was. It didn't deter him from holding the male in his arms, to save him from the monsters that imprisoned him for so long. His concern was getting Daylen to safety and far away from the blood traders.

He wrapped his hands firmly around him, Daylen had fought for too long but now he was free. He walked out of the room with Daylen and didn't look back.