#ropeburns

Angel doesn’t answer. He still carries some pride and won’t answer obvious questions… His resilience will not be rewarded.

Instead of asking for clarification, Sir allows a wild grin to worm its way onto his face. He doesn’t like being ignored.

SLAM!

In one effortless movement, Sir kicks the box from underneath his captive’s feet. A choking sound is heard as Angel falls against the noose, nearly breaking his neck. By sheer chance, he manages to catch himself, frantically bringing his arms up to grip the rope and allow himself to breath. It’s strenuous and now far more terrifying. He’s been doing this for hours and his hands are covered in rope burns; the occasional jump up of his tip toes was the only thing keeping him rested enough to last this long.

Now it’s only a matter of time before his arms give out and the noose completes the job it was designed for.

Sir bellows at the sight. “Now, that you’re in a better position, I think you’ll find yourself more determined to answer. So, would you like me to take you down?”

Angel gasps. It’s like he’s drowning in fire instead of water. Everything burns and his legs hectically search for some assistance. “Ye—” Unable to finish, due to his arms slowly sliding down the rope. His hands are in pure agony and his throat isn’t that much better. He can’t hold this. He simply can’t!

“I can’t hear you.” No mercy. That’s what he deserves for being stubborn and making Sir’s job difficult.

Swallowing his pride and understanding that survival is more important than putting up a good fight, Angel manages to pull himself up just enough to wheeze, “Yes!” It’s more panicky than he wanted it to sound, but who wouldn’t be frightened out of their minds in this situation?

Cackling maniacally, Sir pushes the box underneath the victim’s feet. Angel’s first reaction is relief, but it quickly manifests to apprehension when he realizes that Sir is turning to leave.

“Wait, no!” Angel gags before a look of dread and shame crosses his face, causing his forehead to wrinkle in a frown. Sir turns theatrically and smiles with a flash of amusement. This is entertaining to him.

“What was that, little firefly? You want me to stay?”

A fierce look of contempt splinters into the prisoner’s face as he realizes the trap he set for himself. “No.” His eyes are downcast with humiliation and regret. Somehow, the burns on his neck and hands worsen.

“I see.” Sir grins madly. “Well, if you happen to change your mind, let me know. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”