Overture
[for a better experience, play the video above and read slowly]
The lock finally gave in.
Days after days after weeks after months, always bumping the door in the hopes that one day the lock would crack.
And the day finally came.
The lock gave in.
The door slowly opened and he just stood there, staring at it.
Standing, wondering if the door really had given in, or if it was but a vision.
He lifted his hand and moved it towards the opening.
It passed through.
The door really wasn’t there.
The door was open.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
He was out.
His expression changed.
A tear came to his eyes.
A brief smile to his lips.
He looked back.
He was no longer captive, he was out.
He had made it out.
No more confinement.
No more beatings.
No more bullying, no more threats, no further lack of food.
He was out.
The door was open.
He was on the outside.
He grabbed one of the maces from the wall.
He grabbed it with both hands.
His breathing grew stronger.
His thirst for revenge larger.
He would find them one by one.
He would kill them one by one.
No, he would render them unconscious one by one.
Until the very last one of them.
And then he’d come back to the very first.
And he would torture them one by one.
He looked down the corridor, wet his lips, held the mace strongly.
Here we go, he thought.
He walked.
He jogged.
He ran.
He reached the end of the corridor and walked past the entrance to the room.
There was one of them, sleeping on the couch.
He approached with his lungs pumping, his chest moving vigorously.
He paused.
He raised the mace slowly.
He would strike.
He would be triumphant.
The mace came down.
Fast.
Strong.
Again.
And again.
He couldn’t contain himself.
He killed him with the first blow.
And he did not stop.
Blood everywhere.
More blows.
And, finally, a moment of pause.
Catching back his breath.
How many more were there?
Could the others be together?
Would anyone be awake?
He picked up a knife from the body and placed it in his belt.
Just in case.
He resumed the campaign.
Room by room.
Floor by floor.
Not a word.
One by one, his captors became soulless bodies.
The rooms were painted red.
His afflictions were vindicated.
His pain was eased.
His torments forgotten.
It seemed like an hour.
Nobody other than himself seemed to be left alive.
He double checked all the rooms.
He finally reached the outer door.
His captors had been dealt with.
He opened the door.
No one, nothing in sight.
He let the mace fall to the ground.
He ran.
He kept running.
Fast, so no one could stop him.
Now he could resume his original plan.
The same plan for which the others had imprisoned him.
He would destroy the facility.
Hopefully, the explosion and radiation would harm the aliens outside the nuclear plant.
Sadly, that would not be the end result.
