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Eric Hargrove

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Posts : 105
Join date : 2014-01-06

PostSubject: Hand.   Fri Jan 10, 2014 2:54 am

Jeffrey moaned softly as the pain coursed through his body. Places he didn't know could hurt were on fire, his entire body was on fire. He felt like death had already arrived and was just standing in the corner, waiting for the last remnants of life to fade from him.
At first, he could see the boy with the dreadlocks hovering over him, cutting him again and again. It hurt, God did it hurt. But at that point, he still had hope.
The hope was gone when the dreadlocked boy cut his member in half. The pain became blinding and he couldn't see anymore, couldn't think anymore, couldn't feel anything but the pain screaming louder and louder and all he could do was scream. He wanted it to stop but he couldn't even think of the words to say. He couldn't concentrate enough to beg.
The pain kept coming. First his penis, then his chest, then his legs. He didn't know what was happening anymore. He only knew that he wanted it to end. He didn't care that his life would be over, he was craving it. Anything to make it just STOP HURTING.
Then he felt another presence in the room. He wanted to know who it was. Were they here to help the dreadlocked kid or were they here to save him? He prayed that it was the latter but he wasn't foolish enough to think it really could be. He focused, trying to hear but all he heard were his own moans of pain. He couldn't stop, it was out of his control at this point. He felt like he had no control of any part of his body anymore. He hoped that this meant he was close to death.
Finally, he could make out a new voice ordering the dreadlocked boy to save him. To not let him die. He wanted to shake his head and tell this strange new voice that no, he wanted to die. Please, just let him die. If they were trying to help, tell dreadlocks to kill him right now. He wanted it to be over. He felt needles tugging at his skin and guessed that his wounds were being sewn shut. It hurt so he groaned louder. Whoever was doing it, he guessed it was dreadlocks, wasn't worried about being gentle. The needles were roughly stabbing in and out of his skin.
As the blood loss slowed, he could feel his senses coming back although the pain was still unbearable. He could see a redheaded boy hovering near him, crying and screaming at dreadlocks. Then he felt this boy grab his hand gently, caressing the back of it sweetly, as if he cared. But he had no clue who this guy was. Why was he saving him?
Since he was in so much pain, he tried to concentrate on something, anything else. Finally, he settled on this boy's hand. They were still soft, not calloused, meaning the boy was not too hardworking, had an easygoing life. The man's nails were neatly trimmed but so neatly that you'd think he was a neat freak. The tiny amount of body hair he had was light orange in color and Jeffery found he enjoyed that. He tried to make up a story for this guy in his head. Who was he? What was his favorite food? What did he like to do in his spare time?
But as this man held his hand, he knew that he might not know who he was, but he didn't quite want them to let him go.
Dreadlocks finally left the room and all he could hear was the sound of redhead's tears as he called someone who he learned was the boy's father. He heard the man ask his father to come pick him up and immediately, every inch of his body ached more in protest.
He tried to groan in protest. This guy couldn't leave. What if dreadlocks came back? And most importantly, how was he supposed to keep hold of this boy's hand if he left?
Before he could try to get up enough strength to protest, he felt tugging on his hand. The boy had leaned forward, doubled over in what looked to be pain. And then, he fell over completely, yanking on his hand so hard that another flash of pain ran through him.
But even as it was clear the man was passed out, their fingers were still intertwined.
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