RadhikaThroughout my body, I am numb, my throat has been dried up, and my stomach is growling for food. The tears rolling down my eyes reached the floor beneath me. I wept them, sensing the tips of my fingers had grown insensible too. I had nothing on me other than the deadly marks of cuts, belts hit, and torn clothes were barely covering me. I was crying so badly that my breath stopped for a few moments, and all I wished for was for death to consume me.I was lying flat on the frigid floor of my bedroom, with no bed or room to speak of. It was a basement that had nothing, except for broken, dusty, spider-web junk furniture. Not to mention, darkness. When I was a child, darkness used to scare me to death, but now I am all used to it. I’ve been living here for the last six years, bruised, tortured, sexualized, and totally isolated from the world by Sikha, and her husband, Javed.They one day suddenly showed up at my home, calling themselves took advantage of my family’s poor financia

VikramThe screaming of someone really pleasures me to my core as it’s doing now. Despite that his one will damage my eardrums but I am not done with my art, I am gonna need more blood to make the terrified face of his on my painting. My eyes trailed away from my paint board to him, sitting on his knees with nothing other than pants. I stuffed his mouth with a leather belt, full of spikes, I used the same to tied his wrists and ankles to keep him attached to the floor. If he dared to scream or move, the more it will slice his cheeks, hands, and legs he has more cuts on his body than the hair, in spite of this, he has the guts to beg for mercy.Nevertheless, he had to think about the consequences before thinking of betraying me. No one can, even in their worst dreams could think of it as he did. He tried to sell the papers of my recent deals that were going to bring me tons of profit in return to S.N.A.K.E, an Italian gangster, and my long-time frenemy. Though, it’s impossible. I caugh