~The Grubs, the warehouse~
The men walked closer, acting as if the hero was prey. Oxzy didn't even notice them, his eyes strained forward. The man in the center waited for a response, but the hero stayed silent. The silence irritated the litte leader. He shook his head, walking forward.
The hero stayed still, watching as the killer approached. "Y'know, I was hoping for a more explosive reaction." He crossed his hands. "I mean, I did destroy your home and kill that cat of yours, didn't I?"
His voice reminded Oxzy so much of Pierce's mocking tone. There was a clear difference, though—what the boy in front of him said caused a ripple of rage to erupt out of Oxzy.
Ice shot in front of Felix. It stopped inches from his face before crashing back into the cement floor. The floor began to crack where the hard ice spiked right through it.
Felix tumbled back, looking up only to be met with a fist in the face. He fell to the ground, crashing his back on the floor. The hero was above him in a second, with lightning speed, more punches landing, pummeling him into the hard floor.
The men surrounding the fight shouted in surprise. Some went for guns and knives in their belts. A few ran into a back room. The hero didn't even notice them; his fist collided with the boy on the ground over and over. His energy felt completely uncontrolled, his hand hovering above Felix, eyes locked with his own.
The boy beneath him wore a smile on his bloody lips. He licked the blood falling from his busted mouth. "That's the explosion I wanted."
"Why?" the hero whispered, his hand hovering above Felix's face.
The answer was very clear to Felix, and he knew that the hero had an idea as well. Everyone knew why the hero would be targeted for such a thing. The men surrounding him despised Oxzy. They wanted to kill him just as he wanted to kill the man beneath him.
He did want to kill him. Oxzy was about to continue the punches, to pummel the man under him to death until he became nothing but a bloody mess. His hand hesitated, shaking above the man's dark brown eyes. Felix noticed the reaction.
"Are you gonna kill me?" Felix asked.
Oxzy sneered at him, raised his hand, and brought it down on him one more time. "Why!?"
No response. Felix kept his head to the side, acting as if he were unconscious, and the hero stopped once more. Right now, he could do it—he could form an ice spike under his head and kill him right this instant.
He wanted to do it, so he should do it.
He forced his eyes to look at Felix's bloody face. Just kill him now. He deserves it.
He did deserve it. So why was Oxzy hesitating?
His breathing came out in small whimpers. He had it easy right now; the boy was barely turning into a man. He was still young, powering a whole gang to destroy what was left of Oxzy's life.
Oxzy gulped down a breath, his hand hovering above Felix's head, shaking hard as his power began to fail. It wasn't forming—the stubborn ice he tried so hard to force under the man's head never came.
The harder Oxzy tried, the more pain his head endured. It wasn't working; the ice wasn't forming at his command. No matter how hard he tried to focus, to put as much anger and energy into the command.
Nothing came.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill a person.
His hand slowly lowered, eyes focusing on the killer of Cirilla May. Tears stung his eyes, wanting to pour out in a fury. The hero held them back, cursing himself for being weak.
He apologized over and over to Cirilla. He had failed to do what he came here to do—to kill the useless bastard below him. But he couldn't; Pierce was right about him all along.
He couldn't even kill a monster...
His hand, a bloody and bruised mess, fell from its hold. Shaking his head, the hero felt suddenly lightheaded amid all this chaos. His senses dimmed slightly. It was enough for a sudden move to catch him off guard from behind.
A strong hand grabbed his mouth, twisting his head back painfully, and a cloth pressed against his nose. Oxzy tried to breathe in, pushing at the figure who held him from behind. He used his elbow to knock the man in the groin, then pushed himself up to smash him in the face.
The man stumbled back, dropping the rag from the hero's mouth onto the ground. The cloth opened up, spilling blue dust along the way. Oxzy held his stance, coughing at the foul odor he had smelled. He put his hand to his nose, swiping at a substance as he pulled his hand away.
Blue dust fell from his hand. The hero realized that he had inhaled the dust. It fell from his nose, sparking more coughing from deep inside him.
The hero held his mouth, aggressive coughing wracking his body. He fell to his knees, tears welling up inside eyes that began to grow red.
"Cuah! Cugh-! Agchh!" The hero shook his head, trying to understand what had happened to him.
He couldn't feel anything around him. He knew the men still surrounded him, but his senses weren't there. He had sensed the men when he first entered, but now he couldn't feel them.
His hearing faded until he could only pick up a snicker from somewhere around him. He looked around to see who it was, his eyes landing on Felix, who sat beside him. They faced each other now that Oxzy was on his knees.
Felix wiped the blood away with a white cloth that a man beside him offered. He stood up, looking down at the coughing hero.
Oxzy continued to gag, his throat feeling clogged, as if something were blocking his airway. He looked away from the little leader's peering eyes. He tried to focus on something, but his senses were down. He couldn't smell anything. His eyes grew foggy.
His mind began to race; he felt like he was high above the sky. It was as if his body wasn't his own—he felt limp and lost. He still held onto his mouth and nose to suppress a dying cough, so he wasn't completely numb. Something was happening inside him; the hero felt a change running through his blood.
Something had changed, or more accurately, something was no longer there.
"That happened quicker than I expected." Felix had finished wiping his wounds off, smiling down at Oxzy with a clean face. "I'm guessing your immune system is kind of broken, huh?"
Oxzy growled in rage, shooting his other hand forward in Felix's direction. To his shock, nothing came.
His hand hovered in the air, a faint spike forming from his palm. He tried to force energy out. The more he forced it, the more his head began to pound. The pain was unbearable. His hand fell to the ground, followed by his head and shoulders.
He stayed hunched over on the ground.
It didn't come.
He realized that whatever had changed was a lot stronger than he expected. The more he tried to use his powers, the harder the pain struck his head. His brain felt foggy, trying to register the pain spreading through his body. It stung, as if he had been burned with a venomous rod—with every touch, he flinched harder from the shocking current.
"That was quicker than I expected." A female voice sounded from somewhere around him. Oxzy tried to look up to see who it was, but it felt like a ton of weight had dropped onto his head. It felt too heavy, like a mass of iron fused into his body.
"It is, but it still works out—we can use this state of his." Felix smiled brightly when he noticed Mercy had come out to join them. "You came out?"
"Yeah, I wanted to see this fucker in misery." Mercy spat out, looking down at the hunched hero. The words of Pierce echoed in her mind—this was the man he enjoyed more than her.
More than Rosamee.
A spitting rage filled her the more she thought about it. Watching him crumble to the ground in a miserable state brought her a sense of joy; she wanted to watch more of this.
"Fuh- Agh!" Oxzy began to feel a surge of pain coming from his chest. His hand moved from his running nose to his chest. He tried to think about something else—this couldn't be happening right now.
He was drugged and had lost his powers, left at the mercy of killers who looked down on him. His body felt completely numb, his mind racing with a foggy vision that made everything even worse. He held his eyes shut tightly, crying out in pain.
"Ahgg! No-!"
Felix watched with joy as the man cried in pain, huddling close to himself in desperation to stop the invisible force pinning his chest down, only letting out wheezing cries. He was completely powerless—he had no powers to defend himself. Nothing to hope for.
Mercy snickered from beside him, a joyous smile on her face. Felix grew prouder at the sight, watching as he made her and the men beside him happy. They were happy because of him.
He wasn't done yet. He walked forward and knelt in front of Oxzy, his hand finding its way under his chin and lifting him up lightly. He smiled upon seeing a distressed face meet his. "This is only the beginning."
A white-toothed grin sent shivers down Oxzy's paralyzed spine.
"Gh-!" He tried to swipe the hand away, grabbing tightly onto its wrist. He wanted to bring a cold pain onto the bare skin, but nothing came except his own wheezing. He closed his eyes tightly when Felix squeezed his chin, laughing at his useless attempt to use his powers.
It hurts to force power out. Even so, no matter how hard he tried, nothing would come. He only caused more pain to himself, so he stopped trying. He kept putting his energy into glaring at the man who held his face, teeth clenched but eyes full of fury.
"Get the cameras—I'll let you guys have turns on him," Felix told the men around him, and they did as they were told. Some dropped what they were holding; another came back with a camera. Others took out their own phones, a dirty and sickening smile plastered on their disgusting faces.
Felix let go of his face and watched him fall to the ground, his elbows trying to keep his head from crashing into it. He panted out curses, finding his voice hiding in his throat.
"Don't... fucking touch me..."
"Oh, you have no say in what's about to happen to you." Felix took a few steps back, watching as a gruff man came forward to take his place. He turned to his side and spotted Mercy looking at him in confusion.
"What are you guys doing now?"
The curiosity in her voice excited Felix—he hadn't told her yet, intending for it to be a surprise. "Well, since the drug didn't kill him like I'd hoped, I wanted to humiliate him in the worst way possible."
Mercy scoffed, turning to him as though he'd made a horrible joke. Only when she looked up did she see a serious expression. "Wait, really?"
"Of course! This is the last resort I have for Pierce to notice me. When I show him the video of me overpowering the hero, I'll finally be able to stay by his side!" The little leader wore a manic smile, shaking his head as he turned fully to Mercy. "Same goes for you. You want to see the hero's misery—Pierce will have to apologize. You helped me with this; Pierce will thank us both!"
He sounded far too happy, looking overjoyed as the hero began to let out wails of surprise. Mercy turned, watching the tall, buff man tear off the hero's shirt and pants. Her breath caught, her eyes widening in shock at what Felix had been planning all along.
It wasn't what she was expecting. It wasn't what she liked to see, no matter how much she hated the hero.
She turned toward the office, walking over to the door. Felix called out to her, "Leaving already? We just got to the best part."
"I just ate. If I watch this, I'll throw up," Mercy called back, not even bothering to turn around fully.
Felix turned back to the show in front of him, shaking his head as a man handed him the camera. "Alright, I'll send you the video for when you haven't eaten, so you can enjoy it."
Mercy didn't respond. Felix guessed she had closed the door, but he didn't bother to look back and check—he was fully focused on what was happening in the middle of the warehouse. The yellow light shone brightly, hitting down on a group of men huddled around the hero, who was trapped against them all.
(( SKIP HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS PART ))
A strong hand grabbed at Oxzy's belt, pulling down harshly to his surprise. The hero tried to fight back, clawing at the man's open shoulders and scratching at the skin in desperation.
He received only snickers in response.
"Yeah, like that's gonna help you." The man holding him down rolled his eyes. His hands pulled the rest of Oxzy's pants off, throwing them aside before he looked at the man beneath him.
Oxzy watched him lick his lips with a disgusting grin.
"B-Bastards-! Aah!"
Another hand came from behind him, grabbing his black curls and pulling harshly. Oxzy's neck bent at an angle, earning a yelp of pain from him. He tried to push the hand away, but the grip only grew stronger, pulling even harder. Oxzy's eyes grew wet with tears as his sensitive hair was wrenched.
"Keep fighting—you'll only receive more pain." The man grinned brightly, tightening his hold on Oxzy's curls. "Such pretty hair. Be a shame if it got ripped out."
"AGH!" The hero screamed in surprise at the strong pull. The man laughed at his misery, hot breath finding its way to his neck.
A wet tongue glided along his neck, warm breath grazing his red ear. He tried to push the man back, gripping his hand tightly with his own, trying hard to cause some sort of damage, but it did nothing. None of his powers worked for him.
The tongue was replaced with a sharp pain as the man dug his teeth into Oxzy's pale skin, sucking hard.
"No—gah!" Oxzy winced, closing his eyes in pain as tears fell.
Another feeling came from below. The gruff man tore his underwear apart, pulling his black undershirt up to expose his reddened chest.
"That looks fun to play with," the man laughed, motioning to a shorter male beside him. The shorter man walked forward and held the shirt up for him.
He began to mess around with Oxzy's chest, leaning forward to lick and bite at his nipples. They poked up, and the man grabbed them with his teeth, biting sharply and leaving red, bloody marks.
"Ouch—ah! Fuckers!" Oxzy cursed, using his other hand to try to pry him away. It earned nothing but a sharp warning bite in response.
"Ggah!"
The hero knew there was no way out—he was completely defenseless in this moment. Men surrounded him with hungry eyes, flashing white lights from several different cameras greeting him.
His eyes moved back to the main white flash, meeting Felix's. The young man wore a bright smile. "I'll get everything, don't worry."
The hero thrashed around more, trying hard to push and use his powers. Nothing came of it—his head pounded, as if yelling at him to stop, to stop trying, that he was only hurting himself more.
The pain became too much, and the hero closed his eyes tightly. His hair was still caught in a man's grip; each time he tried to move, a new, tight pull came in response.
"Hold him tighter," the man near his legs called to the one gripping his hair. Oxzy heard a scoff in response.
Another hand suddenly came from beside him, pinning his hand down—now Oxzy had only one hand left to try to push them away.
His legs were pulled apart, exposing his backside. The man held his thighs tightly, gripping hard enough that a purple bruise began to form.
"Let's get to the good part. I'm sure you'll like it, hero..." He laughed to himself, running his fingers along Oxzy's backside.
The hero stopped fighting in an instant. Shock ran through him, and he couldn't help but feel a spike of pain in his heart—a crazy feeling, something he wasn't too familiar with.
It was fear. The hero was scared of what he knew was about to happen.
The sharp pain of a foreign object entering his body made him gasp. His back arched as he cried out in pain.
"Fuahh!! Gahh!"
He tried to find something to hold onto, enduring the pain as best he could until one finger became more. One after another entered him, over and over again. The man gave no warning, no time for him to adjust to the pain—he kept going, adding one, then another, thrusting them in without warning and sending the hero forward.
He began to weep, crying out at the repeated, invasive feeling from inside him. It was disgusting.
He tried again to push the man away, using his leg to pry the hand free. The man brushed him off, pushing his legs farther apart before digging right back in. This time, he pushed his fingers as far as they could go, letting out a satisfied grunt.
"Aghg—!!" Oxzy shouted, a spike of pain shooting into his stomach and up his throat, making him want to throw up.
He turned his head away, only to be met with a man's bare body in front of him. He didn't have enough time to react before it was pushed into his mouth. It was big, piercing through his lips and down his throat, clogging his airway in an instant. Oxzy tried to spit it back out, but the man pushed forward, forcing his neck to bend to avoid it.
He choked on it, trying to pry it out of his mouth with his one free hand, pushing hard against the man's waist with muffled curses mixed with choking.
"Go on, I know you can suck," the smoker's voice croaked from above him.
Oxzy couldn't even look up—his head was forced to take in the whole length. No matter how hard he choked and pulled away, he was face-fucked aggressively, his head tossed back and forth, taking in the entire length with each push.
Tears welled up in his red eyes. Drool dripped from his wet, red lips. The corners of his mouth began to tear from how wide he had to stretch to accommodate the man.
Blood pooled from his lips, but it didn't seem to bother the man above him, who pulled Oxzy's head away before slamming it back down onto him.
"Garhh!" He muffled a choke, his eyes shooting up in surprise at how far it went inside him.
The pain shot down his throat, leaving it sore and suffocated. Oxzy tried to pull away more, but his hair was gripped tightly from behind, warning words coming from the men as they dug their nails into his skull to get a tighter grip and thrust his face forward.
Oxzy couldn't hear them. He couldn't understand them.
Tears fell from his helpless eyes, choking sounds echoing from his throat within his ears.
When he thought the pain couldn't get any worse, a new form of pain came from below him.
A hot, thick rod began to pierce his entrance. Oxzy yelled out in shock, his voice masked with chokes. More drool and blood spilled from his lips; he began to feel hot blood falling from his thighs as the man moved quickly inside him without warning, tearing the hero's entrance with the hard thrust.
"Mgh!!" The pain erupted in his ears all at once when the whole thing entered him.
The man who entered him sighed in relief, sweat dripping from his brow.
"You're gonna have to get used to this. I'm not the only one who's gonna have a turn with you..."
His words became air to Oxzy; the pain was all he felt, all he heard. His throat was clogged with something, and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't block out the pain—it was all over his body, all inside his messed-up chest.
The man started to pound him, pushing his body forward to meet the other man in front of him. His grip on the hero's waist moved up and down with every hard thrust. His grip grew lower and tighter, clawing at his waist before he moved forward to dig himself deeper inside the hero. He pushed farther in, slamming his hips all the way, burning his fingerprints into the hero's flesh with his strong hold.
Two disgusting things were inside him. It was repulsive, horrible, and painful. Blood came from his lips, mixed with pre-cum. His entrance bled too, torn from the man's size.
Laughter surrounded him, mockery at his image and state, lights and eyes closing in on him.
It was a horrific experience.
And it was all because the hero couldn't kill a twenty-nine-year-old he had no relationship with. The man was the cause of this—the cause of his power loss, his house's destruction, his pets' disappearance.
The hero felt everything leave him at once. His body was pushed forward over and over again. His arms went limp in the man's grasp.
They noticed, letting go as his body was tossed around. "Good boy, stay like that for now."
He didn't bother looking to see who had spoken. He gave up trying to fight back; he couldn't do anything to stop the pain.
He was humiliated, no longer a man of great power and strength—just a body to be used over and over.
It lasted all night.
The never-ending push of an invasive object moving in and out of him at a rapid speed continued. The men seemed to have endless energy to use him over and over, pushing and bending his body into different positions. Different members entered and left him, leaving white fluid and blood behind.
The pain never numbed. Drool and blood dropped from his lips onto the floor. A pool of white, sticky liquid ran beneath his legs, mixing with blood and spit. Sweat fell from his loose hair, pulled again and again by different men, leaving black strands scattered across his sweaty, red face.
No matter how loud he cried, how much he screamed in pain, no matter how he pleaded, the pain never ended.
It only earned him laughter and harder thrusts in return for his begging.
He was moved around like a doll. Men with blank faces pulled his legs apart, their bodies covering him as they pushed inside. Their teeth sank into his pale skin until it bled, leaving ugly purple bruises where they had sucked.
Lips and hands touched every inch of his bare skin, leaving nothing but red and purple marks to be ruined further later.
His body lay completely bare, eyes following his exposed parts like hungry tigers. Words of mockery and venom were spat at him as hands struck him, leaving more marks behind.
Felix stood by; he didn't join in. All he did was watch, and he enjoyed everything happening in front of him. Evil thoughts filled his mind, and he felt nothing but joy from the sight. The camera stayed in his hand the whole time; occasionally he moved to capture the hero's face in the frame. Overall, he did nothing but watch.
Even so, it was still fun for him—watching the man Pierce always fought with such hatred and venom lying on the floor, surrounded by strangers with their members in his mouth. The villain felt such happiness seeing this. The hero was finally at his worst.
Nothing but happiness filled Felix, born from the extent of the hero's misery.
The tears and blood falling from his bare body meant everything to him. He made sure to capture every second of it.
"Why not give it a try, boss?" the man beside him, who was also recording, said with a nudge.
Felix turned a smile to him. "Oh, I don't think I could. I don't find men very erotic."
"Neither does any of them," the man said, motioning to the group surrounding the hero. "But still, there's a thrill in dominating a strong man like the hero."
Felix turned back to the ground, eyeing Oxzy, taking in all the cries, the laughter, and the sound of wet bodies colliding.
Without a word, Felix stood and walked forward, making his way in front of the hero. Oxzy's legs were spread open, lips dripping white fluid and blood. His eyes were blank, tears falling and mixing with the other liquids.
A man sat beneath him, straddling him in his lap with his legs pulled apart. Their bodies were connected, thrusting forward, the man's length buried deep inside Oxzy.
With the camera still in hand, Felix moved it around Oxzy's bare chest, his fingers grazing the swollen, bitten parts of his sensitive flesh.
"Mhg!" Oxzy shut his eyes, not even bothering to move away as the man behind him held his body in place, making escape impossible.
Felix gave a toothy smile, capturing all of Oxzy's reactions on camera.
"The well-known hero has a dick inside him. Crying like a little bitch."
"More like a slut," grunted the man inside the hero, moving his hips forward, bouncing Oxzy along his length.
"Paghh! Ahhg!!"
The hero cried out, shock and misery spilling from his lips. The painful cries were sweet music to Felix's ears.
His hand ran along Oxzy's chest, playing with the mix of sweat and blood. He dragged a fingertip across a bite mark, watching it swell and bleed onto his finger.
"Pl-ease! Sto-ahp!" Oxzy cried out, his eyes a blurry mess. He couldn't tell who was touching him—it felt different, almost sensual.
Felix looked at him softly, his hand moving from his chest to the tangled mess of black hair. "I like you like this, Oxzy. I hope Pierce does too." He toyed with the hero's hair, pulling lightly to watch strands fall loose.
The hero closed his eyes tightly, grinding his teeth together, ignoring the taste of blood on his lips.
Pierce? What was he talking about? Why did they have to mention that bastard... Oxzy's train of thought dimmed, and everything grew quiet.
His mind emptied; he felt high, as though dropping from a tall building, wind rushing through his soaked hair. His head dropped, his eyes and thoughts stopped completely as everything around him turned to a black blur.
......
...
...
The hero dimly remembered what had happened. He expected the men who raped him that night to still be there when he came back to himself. But to his surprise, he was alone.
His body felt horrible. Pain shot through him with every small movement. His backside was the worst of it—every attempt to move sent shooting pain through him. It felt sticky; his insides burned inside and out. The skin around his hole felt raw, red, and seared.
"Mhh...!" He held in whimpers, trying to ignore the burning in his backside, but it wasn't the only pain. His throat felt sore, as though rammed with an iron rod. Every sound he made burned his throat further. It felt as though the man were still inside his mouth, pounding so hard he couldn't breathe.
Swallowing was just as painful; every sound from his throat hurt terribly. It burned as his muscles tightened, pressing together in agony.
He didn't need to look to know what his chest looked like. When he tried to touch it, a searing pain shot across his skin. His muscles tightened at the shock, more blood seeping from his flesh, the skin torn and ravaged by how much blood covered it.
The memories hurt the most. Recalling what had happened to him felt like being shot through the heart—a painful realization that made him curl in on himself.
His bare knees met his face. He lay completely exposed, nothing but wet remnants covering him.
He couldn't cry out; it hurt too much. He couldn't cover himself; moving hurt too much. All he could do was lie there.
Tears fell from his eyes, hot as they ran down his icy skin.
What was he supposed to do now? All he could do was lie there, hearing nothing but his own labored breathing.
He just wanted it all to end. The mental and physical pain he endured was too much for his mind to bear. The only hope he clung to would never come.
His mother was gone. Crillia was gone. His own home lay destroyed. Where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to do next?
It was easier to simply give up—to wait for something to finally end his misery.
Maybe all the blood would kill him. Maybe infection would spread quickly, and he could die from that.
He just wanted it over with. Why did he have to suffer so slowly? Why couldn't it end quickly...
The hero's whole body was ready to give up. He ignored the sound of footsteps approaching beside him.
He didn't even hear the door open. The clap of shoes against concrete echoed in his ears. He closed his eyes, ready for death to finally take him.
He didn't care anymore.
There was nothing left...
A large piece of clothing fell over him, covering his curled-up form. It was his undershirt. The hero wondered why he hadn't been killed—who stood above him, throwing him something he thought had been ripped apart.
The figure above him knelt down, hovering over his motionless head.
"They're coming back in twenty minutes to continue." It was a woman—the same woman who had watched his clothing being torn off. "Get out now. The door will be open."
The figure moved away, exiting the room, her footsteps fading. Oxzy didn't hear the door close behind her; she must have left it open.
She sounded certain; her words carried nothing but warning. It was strange—she had watched and encouraged the destruction of his dignity, and now she offered him cover from the cold air?
The hero waited, staying on the cold ground a few more minutes. He expected she had lied, that she waited for him to leave so she could ambush him and repeat the horror. But nothing happened. He no longer had his heightened senses; all he could do was hope.
Or did he want it to happen—for the men to come back and finish the job?
No matter how much he wished to die in that moment, he didn't want to feel any of that ever again. The aftermath already showed on him. Marks covered his body, and he would forever be scarred by the memories—his body bearing permanent reminders of what they had done to him.
But he didn't want to endure that again.
He had to take the chance. Run while he still could.
It was painful—so painful that he lost count of how many times he fell while trying to stand. His legs burned; when they rubbed together, it felt like being struck repeatedly in the same place. His skin reddened with irritation at every movement.
While on the ground, he fought back tears. They still came, pouring from his red, swollen eyes.
Still, he kept trying.
Keeping his whimpers to a quiet, painful whisper, Oxzy found his way up.
His legs shook under his weight. He felt himself about to fall again, but he caught himself in time, his hands stopping his head from hitting the ground, holding his body up long enough to regain the energy to try again.
"Fuh-! Tahhgh..." The hero closed his eyes tightly.
He tried to think of something else, anything other than the pain. But his mind kept returning to the thing that had once been inside him.
He shook his head, tears falling. He gagged, nearly retching. The feeling of liquid rising in his throat burned as it came up. It hurt when anything passed through his sore, ruined throat—even just blood and spit.
His bare legs carried him forward, each shaking step forcing him to bite his dried lips against the pain. It was exhausting just to walk from the cold floor to the wide, tall door of the warehouse exit. He stopped when the cold rush of outside air hit him, and he fell to the ground.
Falling to his knees, he wheezed for air.
"Hah... Gahh..."
He gathered more energy to move forward, biting his tongue as each step made his skin crawl. His muscles tightened with every step, his insides threatening to spill out beneath him.
The hero began to walk away from the warehouse, holding the black undershirt tightly to his bare skin, clutching the buttons together to keep it from opening and exposing his battered chest. It didn't matter anyway—no one was outside.
He was alone, walking away from the horror he had just endured. Scars ran through the inside of his body, sinking deep into his flesh as though branded by iron.
He would forever be ruined, inside and out.