I literally only have 2 things for Feitan and theyâre both smut so Iâm changing it up and this is not gonna be a smut because regular Feitan content is quality content. Itâs darker and maybe even a little more yandere than what I usually write but this is actually what Iâm better at writing so oop-Â
Warning: mention of suicideÂ
The clash of metal startled you awake. Gasping and covered in sweat, you bolted up straight in the rather small cot of the room you were given, nearly hitting your head against the ceiling. All you could see was darkness, though you felt an odd familiarity about your surroundings. You blinked several times in an attempt to adjust your vision to the black around you. It worked slightly, allowing you to notice some key items that you had recognized from home.
It was then that you remembered where you were.
His torture chamber was right down the hall, you knew that much. You had only known because he had told you, and you had heard the screams before. Once you had thought someone had come to save you, but he had brought that person down to cripple them terribly. For what, he provided no answers for.
You also knew there was no way out of this room. You had tried countless times to escape. Clawing at the locks, the metal door, screaming for him, begging for him to let you out. It had proved futile. He didnât even mock your attempts anymore. He didnât even acknowledge your presence either. You had become background noise with no purpose.
Boiled eggs and salt had been breakfast, lunch, and dinner for an endless amount of days. At least he allowed you a little flavor with the bland white and thick yolks. You had grown sick of them, though you knew it would be asinine of you to not eat what you were given. You were being treated like an animal, but for what reason? You didnât know the answer to that either, and he never gave you one. You barely remembered your kidnapping. Simply a cloth over your mouth and strong arms wrapping around your body, holding you tight against their chest so you couldnât move much. There was no scent, only a sweet taste in your mouth as you tried to cry out for help, and then everything fell dark.
When you woke up, you were brought here, in this dark, cramped room with a few trinkets from your house placed orderly against the concrete wall. Nothing too special, just a book youâd read over a hundred times, a stuffed doll from childhood, your motherâs silver necklace, and a tennis ball youâd played with when you were bored at home. Youâd woken with no clothes, only your undergarments, and no cell phone either.
You hugged your knees close to your chest, letting your chin rest on the tops of them. You were still tired, but you knew if you slept, youâd just wake up again and it would still be the same. Your skin had paled and your body deteriorated to something fragile and weak. There was nothing in the room to even harm yourself with, so there was no chance of even suicide being an option. A sigh reverberated through your chest, signaling boredom.
You dared to move, the loud creak of the wooden cot protesting despite your weight not holding onto much. You couldnât stand in the room at all, barely able to sit up all the way in the cot, so you crawled over to what little things the man provided you with. Youâd hoped he hadnât heard you moving around on the wet, concrete floor. Your knees naturally folded under you as your hands reached for the silver neckline.
A minor memory of your mother giving you the necklace as a birthday gift played in the back of your mind, faded and muffled. Youâd only been trapped down here for what you assumed to be a few months, but it felt like years. You didnât have the courage to ask the man how much time had actually passed. Even if you had, you were almost sure he wouldnât answer you. He never answered any of your questions anyway.
You dangled the necklace above your hand, slowly spilling it down and watching the delicate chain pool in your palm. The cool feeling made you smile. It was something. Something that gave you hope that youâd be able to get out. You had absolutely no idea how youâd manage to escape, but you had some hope that you could. That you would.
Another clang made you gasp out loud, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth. You set the necklace back onto the ground and crawled to the very back of the tiny space, pressing your frail spine against the concrete. Silence. Nothing came after that. No footsteps. No voices. No screams. Nothing. Nonetheless, it worried you more than anything.
You felt the sudden twinge of anxiety creep along your legs and worm itâs way into your stomach, squirming and writhing and making you unbearably nauseous. Vomit retched past your lips and you threw up behind yourself, not able to help it. Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? What was going on? Your head started to spin and you turned to face the door.
The source of your anxiety stood firm in the doorway, staring down at you with amusement in his eyes.
âSick again are we?â his broken accent sounded eerily calm. Another round of bile rose in your throat, though you held it back, forcing yourself to swallow with every muscle in your body. How did you not hear the door? It was made of solid steel, there was no way he could have opened it without a sound. Your confusion must have shown on your face, for he snickered behind the black scarf that covered his mouth, his eyes smiling too.
âWeâll have to fix that. Donât want you dying just yet, hmm?â he entered the room fully, shutting the door behind him nearly all the way. Your breath hitched. He didnât lock it. There was a chance. It was slim, but it was still a chance you could take. You averted your gaze from the door back up to him. Those worms of apprehension continued to wriggle around your internals up to your throat again. The man kneeled down in front of you, something in his hand. His eyes also glanced down at the object, then back up at you.
âItâs nothing special. Not for you.â he noted your eyes on the object, clutching it tighter. Whatever it was, it was for you. Or at least it belonged to you. You gulped, not saying anything in response.
âIâve decided to be nice today. Would you like to come out for a little while?â wisps in words rolled off his tongue like clouds in the sky. You felt your jaw open, which he quickly closed with a push of his hand against your jaw, gripping tightly onto the poor thing. He waited for your answer, though impatiently. You tried to nod despite the iron grip on your jawline. He smiled again and let go. However, your freedom didnât last long.
His fingers interlaced with your hair, yanking hard on the weak roots to force you forward. You could only manage a whimper in response, your voice completely lost due to the lack of use for days on end. You flailed forward with him for some sort of relief or ease from the tugging on your sensitive scalp. Tears welled in your eyes, burning your corneas and setting fire to any thought of resisting. Your skin scraped painfully against the flooring and a trail of blood started to follow under you. He flipped you over onto your back and threw you down, your head bouncing off the ground. Your vision faded in and out, another wave of nausea coursing through your stomach.
âGet up.â the curt command barely registered in your mind. He gave you no time to react, scoffing and making a grab at your throat. He flipped you over onto your stomach. This time your chest taking the blow and nearly winding you.
âI said get up.â his voice still sounded calm, though a wink of annoyance hinted itself at the edge. You tried to follow the words but couldnât seem to. Your palms pressed into the ground, any dust or dirt biting painfully into your skin. Pushing yourself up, you folded your knees under you to sit up and your arms fell limp at your sides, your knuckles smacking harshly against the ground. A pleased hum voiced itself from the man.
âGood enough.â he strolled past you, placing whatever had been in his hand before back into his pocket. You still had no idea what he had ahold of that could have belonged to you, but you had a bad feeling about it nonetheless. Your body felt woozy, everything in front of you swaying and twisting around. You swallowed bile for the third time that day and tried to keep your focus on him. You werenât sure of what he wanted now. He let you out. Why?
Your legs started to go numb from sitting the way you were, but you couldnât muster the energy to move out of the position. You were so tired. A deep breath resounded in you, trying to calm the anxiety some more.
âAre you hungry?â the sudden offer made you gawp at him, quickly closing your mouth before you threw up again. You were starving, but with how sickly you felt, you didnât know what you should answer. You let yourself nod. His eyes smiled down at you again before moving to leave the room. You stayed on the floor. The urge to follow him tugged at your numbed legs, but you knew better. This was the first time heâd let you out and you didnât want him to throw you back in that damned room just yet.
A sticky substance wet your hand. Your brows furrowed as you pulled your hand up to your face to see. Blood. Your blood. You turned your body around to see the trail youâd left. Your fingertips tapped your thigh again, watching thick blood string from your thigh to your finger. It was oddly pleasing to see your own blood. Something from your body that was yours. Something you could hold onto.Â
A few minutes more passed by and the sound of footsteps caught your attention, bringing you back down to reality. The man came back with a bowl of some sort. Steam swirled around the rim, spilling over to your nose. You inhaled and smelled something familiar. Some sort of vegetable?
âYou can sit at the table if you like.â he set the bowl down on the surface above you. It was then that you noticed to wooden table above your head. You blinked a few times before pressing your forearms to the chair to pull yourself up. After some great difficulty, you managed to sit down in the rather creaky chair. For a few seconds you were afraid it would collapse underneath you. The man sat across from you, leaning onto the table, not taking his eyes off of you.
You took this as your indication to start eating. You moved to grab for the spoon he left on the table. Your hands were trembling so much you nearly couldnât grab the thing. The metal utensil felt foreign in your shaky grip. You scooped out some of the broth. Unsure, you glanced up at the man.
âI did not do anything to it. Itâs safe for you to eat.â he chuckled after the sentence. You didnât smile, though you wanted to. Instead, you spooned the broth into your mouth. Your senses flooded into overdrive. The warmth soothed your dry tongue, hints of carrot and celery and potato striving to be recognized in the taste. You covered your mouth and set the spoon down. Your eyes hurt as they watered. You whimpered when no words would come to say how grateful you had been for this. The manâs eyes widened.
âIs something the matter? Do you not like it?â edge was in his voice. You panicked, afraid heâd take it away. Your hand flailed over your chest frantically, fanning your throat.Â
âI do... I just-â you voice was completely wiped out, squeaking out whatever it could manage. His features softened at your minimal reply. Should you continue? Should you thank him? Would he take that badly? You decided to say nothing and instead take another bite, letting the feeling slide around on your tongue. You felt his eyes on you, burning into you as he watched you eat. Like he was waiting for something. He said he hadnât tampered with the meal, however, something sank in your gut a little. Setting the spoon down to signal you were finished, you pushed it away from you. It was only half eaten, and you wanted more, but something told you to stop.
He raised an eyebrow at you, his head now resting on his hand. Your eyes met his, trying to signal that you were done. He stood up and took the bowl from in front of you.
âIâm surprised, thought youâd eat more than that.â he made the comment with his back turned to you as he made way out of the room. You searched around for something now. Strength had returned to your body enough to feel less sickly and you felt like you could actually move. However, you dared not to leave the chair in case he came back sooner than you would have expected. The room he currently occupied must have been a kitchen of some sort, something to make food in. Something with knives and forks. Sharp objects that could be used to hurt someone. Then there was the torture chamber that most likely held the devices used to also hurt others.
The chamber could be seen in front of you now, a gaping hole in the wall showing a dark room only lit by a hanging bulb in the center. A hospital gurney covered in blood stood tall directly underneath the bulb, dripping loudly into the blood pool beneath it. Any weapons or devices must have been on the far wall to your left or your right considering you couldnât see anything but the bed and the light bulb.
The man came back, sitting across from you again and blocking your view of the room.
âDo you like it out here?â he leaned on the table again, creaking lightly. The question was a hard one to answer. One you couldnât really answer yes or no to. If you answered no, heâd likely throw you back into that tiny crawl space without hesitation. If you said yes, he might still do the same thing, just out of spite. There was no right answer.
âYes.â you let a glimmer of hope slip into your mind, hoping he wouldnât force you to stay in the concrete block again. His expression didnât change. Instead, he stood again, placing his hands in his pockets and walking toward you slowly. Your brain swirled, your head shaking before you could even register the motion.
âNo please I donât want-â you pushed away from the table, falling out of the chair onto the ground. Your limbs desperately tried to scramble, trying to get away from him, but he had ahold of your throat again before you could even move. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, digging your nails into his skin, your eyes pleading, begging him to let you go. It hurt. You could feel his blood seep under your fingernails. He pulled you up to your feet, standing you up and then releasing your neck. Your legs felt wobbly and your body fell forward, crashing against his chest and shoulder while you choked out over him. One of your hands went to your throat to soothe the deep purple marks already forming.
âFine then, Iâll let you stay out.â he mumbled in your ear while you continued to cough up, blood dotting the ground behind him. He tsk-ed at your weakness, setting you down onto the chair again so you wouldnât have to lean on him anymore. You curled into yourself, shaking violently against the back of the chair. You shut your eyes, trying to block out everything. The feeling of his hand lingered on your throat, so tight it was like you still couldnât breathe.
Soft fabric spilled onto your bare thighs. Your eyes fluttered open, the blurry image of the cloak he wore spread over your legs. You turned your head up to look at him. He was shirtless, nothing but some baggy grey pants on him now. His face held a look of pure irritation while he dusted off his pants. His arms crossed over his chest.
âPut that on, weâll see how well you behave.â he turned his back to you again, opening the door to what you assumed to be the kitchen room and left you there, thoughts simmering in the back of your mind to find a way out.Â
