Reign of Darkness Chapter Three- Helpless

Jirasaki Akira couldn't see anything, couldn't break free, couldn't go down on flat feet, couldn't say a word...the cloth in his mouth was still taking in his saliva, and he felt the spit begin to trickle down the back of his throat. He focused on breathing as the liquid saliva trickled down, and tried not to choke or cough. The figure was somewhere near, he knew, for he could feel eyes watching him as he moved his wrists, testing his binds. They were tight, but then again he had known that. There was no chance of breaking free; if this figure wanted to kill him here, he could, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was helpless to do anything. "I am going to have to kill you, you know," stated the figure's voice from directly in front of him, and he felt the figure's hot breath slither across his face. "Now you seem like a nice boy and I hate to have to end your short life, but it's my job, you see." once again the figure was stroking his cheek with a gentle hand, and he tried to jerk his head away, but found that the hand followed. "Don't make this hard on yourself," stated the figure with a stern voice. "I don't wish to hurt you, but I will. Do you wish me to be rough?" Akira didn't answer, his heart racing inside his chest. "Maybe I should just kill you right now...hmm..." he closed his eyes behind the blindfold, his breaths quickening as they raced out of his nose and across the surface of the tape covering his mouth. The figure heard the breaths quickening in fear, and Akira heard him laugh. "But if they don't see that you suffered...they won't be pleased, and I do need to get paid...this is a living..." the figure sighed and suddenly a sharp pain coursed through Akira's body, making him twist and jerk. Electricity seemed to ignite flames within him, and he cried out in complete agony, the cloth in his mouth sucking up most of the sound and only letting a small fraction escape from behind the tape. His body jerked and writhed as he screamed with pain, his feet going flat and making more pain course through his body. The pulled at the chains around his wrists, but could not break free. He felt something draining from him, leaving him breathless with pain. He couldn't think; the pain was everything. The saliva trickled back down his throat more quickly, and he coughed as it began to pile up, somewhat blocking his airways. Choking, screaming, and sucking air quickly through his nose, he tried to focus on getting away. He coughed again, and found a metallic taste in his mouth. Blood. He was coughing up blood. He screeched in agony as the electricity became more intense, increasing the pain. The blood had nowhere to go, and was sucking into the cloth somewhat, but most of it trickled back down, making him splutter and cough, his airways closed even more, though he struggled to get them open.

He heard the figure chuckle, and the pain grew. More and more it grew, overwhelming his senses. His heart raced with fear and pain, and he could hardly breathe. Most of his breath was gone; and the rest was being taken away by the pain. He felt himself drain, as if something were being taken from him, and he struggled, screaming, choking, coughing. 'Please,' he thought to himself. 'I don't want to die...' He shook his head and yanked at the chains, but they weren't budging; of course they weren't. His stomach twisted and churned, and his heart burned as it pounded painfully hard against the inside of his chest. He felt sweat race down the outside of his face, and the blood began running back up his throat even though he hadn't just coughed. His heart skipped a beat as he learned what was happening. He was going to drown in his own blood; it wasn't going to have a place to go and was going to pool up in his mouth, and he wouldn't be able to breath. He struggled, his legs moving wildly, his arms pulling at the chains. Still, he knew he wasn't getting free. He screamed. He cried. The tears raced down his cheeks from under the blindfold as the pain grew, and he wasn't ashamed. The pain was just so unreal, so unnatural. Sobs, muffled by the cloth and tape, barely made a sound, and his screams didn't seem to be echoing his pain.

"I'm sorry Jirasaki. You must die," said the figure, and even though Akira's mind was hazed with pain, he knew he was smirking. And the pain grew, eating him from the inside out, making his body twitch and jerk as volts ran through it, killing him slowly. "And die you will."

Akira screamed and kept on screaming.
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Dasu glared at the ground to keep himself from looking at the lifeless form strapped to a chain, the lifeless form that he had gotten killed. Though he had known that it was best for the male to have gone quick, and that they were going to kill him anyway, it did little to ease his guilt. He had never killed anyone before, nor had he ever gotten anyone killed. Now he had, and he wasn't sure what to do. 'I'm sorry,' he thought to himself as he clenched his eyes tightly closed. 'I'm so sorry.' He heard footsteps echo toward him and opened his eyes, bringing his gaze up to the cell bars. A man was standing there, peering in at him with a somewhat twisted smirk. His gray eyes were full of malign, and the look the man was giving him made Dasu's skin crawl with unease. "To your feet," the man snarled as the unlocked the cell and opened the cell door. The man stalked forward and grabbed Dasu by his arm, yanking him out of the cell. Before Dasu knew what was going on, his hands were pulled behind his back and were bound tightly with tape, his wrists crossed over each other. He struggled, grunting, but the man clipped him in the back of the head and he gave a slight yelp. The next thing Dusa knew, his cry was cut short as thick tape was placed over his mouth. His eyes wide, he shook his head. Sure he felt guilty, but he didn't want to die. He felt selfish for thinking like that, but he oculdn't help it; he was only human after all, he wanted to live. "You're next." Dasu's eyes widened as he struggled, pulling at the tape that held him prisoner. "Oh don't worry; we won't kill you until Roswa gets back with the body of that other kid." Dasu shot the man a look, glaring at him. "Yes, another one. The... the Incinerator, I believe it is. Roswa should be killing him right about..." he smirked. "Now."
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The pain was just too intense for young Akira. Screaming took his breath away, and he found it was just too hard, too much of an effort, to regain it. His breaths leaving him, his chest's heaving began to slow, and the sound of his breath racing across the tape began to disappear. Wavering slightly, he nearly fell over. Blood and saliva were blocking his airways; he now knew what the cloth had been for. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as bad as before; it was leaving. Or maybe it was just him that was leaving. He wasn't sure, but one way or another, the pain was leaving. His body was trembling and twitching, and he found he could no longer stand. His legs gave way, and he went down, his arms holding him up from where his wrists were chained to the branch. A dim pain throbbed through his arms, but he hardly took notice of it, and didn't care. He hadn't the strength to stand, nor the will. Suddenly, the chains that held him prisoner this whole time were suddenly gone, and he fell to the ground in a heap, landing on his back, his arms at his sides. The cloth was moved from his eyes and he cried out as light filled his vision, making his already splitting headache worse. Lying on his back, the cloth, slippery with saliva and blood, began to fall down his throat. His eyes widened slightly as it lodged itself at the top of his throat, completely blocking his airways, but he didn't have the strength to lift his arms. Unable to breathe, the rasping of the breath leaving his nose deminished. He choked, coughing, gasping for air that wasn't there, and his eyes began opening and closing as he fought to stay conscious.

"I'm sorry Jirasaki Akira," said the figure from his right, but he hardly heard what he said. The tape was ripped from his mouth, and he winced slightly as the figure moved its hand into his mouth and grabbed the cloth. The cloth was pulled from his throat and out of his mouth, allowing him breath. He breathed deeply, his chest heaving, his breaths labored and shallow, uneven and dull. "I'm sorry," the figure said again. "I must kill you now." and then his mouth was pried open, and another cloth, clean of blood and saliva, was shoved into it and pressed to the back of his throat. His eyes wide, he felt the figure use his fingers to push the cloth down his throat, choking him completely. Coughing and spluttering as he gasped for breath, his body began twitching and jerking. Shakily, he tried to bring his hand up to get the cloth out of his mouth, but the figure grabbed his hand and then grabbed the other one, pulling them both above his head and holding them there together. Akira shook his head back and forth slowly, as if in denial. Or maybe he was just trying to breathe somehow. "I shouldn't kill you like this...they'll want to see marks...hmm..." the figure broke off as if thinking, and Akira's eyes fluttered. The figure sighed and reached into his mouth, pulling the cloth out again. Coughing and gasping for much needed air, he closed his eyes, his breaths loud and numbered. Suddenly, there was a pain in his side and he yelped, trying to move away. As soon as he did, the electricity was back and he cried out and screamed in agony, his body moving. The figure still had his hands above his head, so he couldn't do too much except shout in pain. As the pain began to reside, Akira forced his mahogandy eyes open. His vision was blurred, but he somehow focused on his bare chest. The figure had cut his shirt off, and the wind was chilly. Or maybe it was just him. The figure used his knees to pin Akira's hands to the ground above his head, and then the figure pulled out a knife. The blade glistened in the moon light, and Akira felt his heart race.

"N...No..." he felt himself whisper weakly, and he coughed. Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, and he coughed again. A chunk of blood fell down out of his mouth, and he sucked in a deep breath. Slowly, the figure began to prod Akira's ribs and chest and stomach with his thrumb. Akira hissed and tried to move away, but couldn't.

"Yes it's tender," said the figure. "That means it'll hurt more and leave more marks." With that, the knife was jabbed into his side, making a long, shallow but deepening incision. Akira howled in pain as the figure repeated this three times, and then punched him in the stomach. "I need your life force," said the figure. "It won't hurt me, but...well, you've felt it before." and then the electricity was back, and he howled and screamed, struggling weakly. After a minute, the pain left, and he could hardly suck in a breath. "Now I wait."

Akira moved his head from side to side to relieve some of the pain and try to get some more air. His air was little and decreasing rapidly, and his heart seemed to miss every other beat. The world went in and out of focus, and no matter how much he breathed, it just wasn't enough. Everytime he sucked in a rasping breath, he felt his body tremble as if that simple effort took more energy than he had left to spare. Silently, he glared at the figure. He was killing him; he felt himself dying. He gave a small cough and then a raspy groan. Blood trailed from the corners of his mouth, but there was more in his mouth and in his throat, and it just kept coming. His eyes opened and closed as he fought to stay awake and conscious, to stay alive. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to breathe better, but no matter what he did his breaths continued to slow. His breaths were rasps and were rough, uneven and shallow. He himself could hear them deteriorating. "W...W..." he swallowed, but it was useless. "W...Why...?" he uttered quietly, and it came out with a gurgle and a bubble of blood that popped and trailed down the corners of his mouth. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, sweat beading his forehead as he fought against the darkness. Opening his eyes, he slowly focused on the figure, blood still racing out of the corners of his mouth, making him gurgle and gasp as he spoke. "Why...W...W...Why me...?" the figure didn't answer, only pressed his hand to Akira's mouth. The blood, unable to leave, trickled back down his throat. He shook his head weakly.

"I'm sorry..." the figure whispered, and Akira's eyes fluttered as he tried to stay alive. He fought for breath, fought for life, and his vision began to go. He stared at the moon silently, a giant yellow orb in the sky, giving off light. He suddenly got an out-of-body experience, and saw himself lying there, his hands pinned above his head, a hand over his mouth, blood drying on his face, blood leaving his wounds on his side and chest. He was dying, and he hated it. But there was nothing he could do about it. He was helpless. The boy's eyes fluttered more, and he heaved a breath, his chest rising and falling slowly, the motions becoming fainter and fainter. "I'm sorry," the figure said again. The hand moved away, and the blood immediately began to trail down the corner of his mouth. His mouth was forced open, and he knew what was coming next. He struggled weakly to get away, but was far too weak to move more than an inch. The cloth was shoved into his mouth again, and he shook his head, trying to move away, trying to escape. But he knew there was no chance of that happening; he was going to die. This figure was going to kill him. The cloth was dry and scrape along the inside of his mouth as the figure shoved it in rather roughly, and he winced, coughing up more blood that wetted the figure's fingers as they continued pushing the cloth back. He gasped in a breath and tried to move, but there was nowhere to go. He was helpless. "I'm sorry Jirasaki..." Akira wasn't sure why the figure kept saying sorry, but he didn't really care at that moment. The figure moved his hand out of his mouth and took the cloth with them, and the boy heaved a breath of silent relief, his eyes slipping closed as he breathed heavily, jerkily.

"If..." he swallowed, choking on his own blood. "I...If...y...y...you're...sorry..." he rasped, his voice quiet and drained, growing fainter and fainter. He swallowed thickly, but the blood kept coming back. "Then... d...d...don't... do... this...p...p...please don't...please d...d...don't do this...I d...d...don't... w...w...want to d...die..." he coughed and choked again, and the figure didn't answer. Suddenly a hand was over his mouth and nose, and his eyes widened. He couldn't breathe. He struggled, but his effort was in vain. Slowly, the hand moved away and he stared at the figure. "...I...k...know...you h...hate me...b...but please...I d...don't..." he sucked in a sharp breath, and for a moment his eyes closed, blood trailing out of the corners of his mouth as it opened and closed in his effort to breathe. "Please...d...d...d...don't...do this..." he rasped, gasping for air. He somehow felt the figure's gaze soften, and for a moment the weight left his hands. Then it was back and better than ever, making him wince and squirm with what energy he had left in him.

"I'm sorry Jirasaki, I truly am," mumbled the figure. "But you are going to die. I will kill you. Now shut up and let me do what I'm supposed to." Akira flinched when he was suddenly slapped across the face.

"...P...Please...I can't...I can't... b...b...breathe...t...t...too much...b...blood... please..." he coughed, his breath shortening into rapid gasps as he twitched slightly as he lay dying. "I...d...d...don't know...w...w...what...I did...w...w...wrong...p...p...please..."

The figure brushed his black bangs back gently, and the boy took in a shaky breath, sweat beading his forehead. "I'm so sorry..." the figure whispered quietly, and Akira knew it was sincere. "I really am sorry...but I have to do this...I'm sorry..." the figure took in a breath, and suddenly Akira saw him grab the cloth, moving it back toward his mouth. "I have to kill you."

"...N...N...No...please..." he coughed, choking on his own blood as it pooled up in his throat. He groaned and his eyes slipped closed for a moment before they opened again. "N...N...Not that...please...I c...can't..." he broke off as the figure suddenly put his hand over his mouth, causing the blood to pool up and trickle back down, having nowhere to go. He gazed at the figure pleadingly. "Please..." he whispered beneath the hand, and the hand tightened on his mouth, making him wince slightly. His chest heaved, his breath rapidly leaving his nose and rushing across the figure's hand. Gentle fingers still ran through his hair, somehow calming him.

"Shh," said the figure calmly, soothingly. "It'll be okay. It won't take long. You'll be dead soon, and then there won't be any pain." He opened and closed his eyes for a moment, gazing at the figure silently. His breath ceased for a moment as his heart lurched, and he let out a small groan in his throat. It came out with a gurgling sound, and the figure moved his hand away from the boy's mouth, his hand red with blood. "I'm so sorry, Akira, I..." the figure broke off, and Akira stared silently at him. The figure hadn't really called him Akira yet; it had always been Jirasaki, or Jirasaki Akira. "I'm so sorry..." and then the figure pried the boy's mouth open, stuffing the cloth in. Akira's eyes widened and he squirmed, struggling to get away, and the figure pressed down harder on his hands, pinning them even further to the ground, causing him to yelp slightly. "I'm sorry...forgive me..." Using his index finger, the figure pushed the cloth far into his throat and then pulled his hand out. Akira began choking almost immediately, and coughed. Blood trailed out of his mouth, and his eyes fluttered uselessly as he moved his head from side to side. "I'm sorry. But I need you dead." and then the figure took the chain and chained his wrists together, pushing the end of the chain into the ground far enough that Akira couldn't break free. Akira tried though; oh boy did he try. He panicked and frantically began pulling at the chains, though weak his attempts were. He couldn't breathe; his body jerked and trembled as his internal organs began shutting down. He shook his head. "Just die already," said the figure. "Don't fight it." the fingers gently brushed his bangs back over and over again as he coughed and struggled, gasping for the air that wouldn't come, no matter how hard the poor boy tried. "Please don't fight it...you'll suffer more if you do..." While one of the figure's hands were brushing his bangs back and running through his hair in a soothing manner, the other was gently gripping the boy's shoulder, keeping him still as the fight slowly died out of him. The figure watched as the poor boy's eyes dimmed and darkened, glazing over in death. But still, Akira resisted Death. "Akira, don't fight it...please kid, don't..." Akira, through the haze of pain and terror, could hear the guilt and regret in the figure's voice. "Don't fight it..."

But he had to fight it. He didn't want to die. He kicked his feet in frustration, as if that could somehow set him free and save him from death. His body jerked and his mouth opened and closed uselessly as his eyes fluttered and focused at things before closing again. His body trembling, he tried desperately to get free, to free his arms and get the cloth out of his throat. Blood raced down the corners of his mouth, and he coughed, choking on that as well as the cloth. He moved his head from side to side, struggling pitifully against the darkness and silence of death. He tried time and time again to suck in breath, but he couldn't; the cloth prevented him from doing so. It choked him and it wasn't going to stop. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he heard the figure's intake of breath as he saw it. A tear trailed down his cheek as his chest heaved, his mouth opening and closing in an attempt to get air. His eyes fluttered open and then closed, and a raspy sob escaped his mouth, along with a bubble of blood that popped and fled his mouth from the corners.

"Don't fight it, kid...please don't fight it..." the figure whispered, but Akira hardly heard him, for he was panicking and desperately struggling to get free. His feet kicked, his body jerked, his chest heaved, and his eyes fluttered. "Please..." He could feel the cloth, now slick with blood, begin to slide even further down his throat. His lungs burned and he coughed, choking for breath. His face turned red, sweat hurriedly raced down his face, the figure's fingers still brushing his bangs back and moving through his hair. The figure's other hand tightened on his shoulder, keeping him pinned to the ground. There was no escape.

He wasn't getting out of this; he was going to die. The figure wanted and needed him dead; he wasn't getting out alive. "Please..." he gurgled as the blood slid out of his mouth, his mouth opening and closing, his voice growing fainter and fainter. He moved his head back and forth, his heart and lungs ready to burst. He gazed at the figure through half-lidded eyes of which were dim and glazed in death. "P...P...Please... d...d...don't..." he couldn't say anymore. His eyes fluttered and then slowly slipped closed and stayed that way as his head lolled to the side, his body jerking upward a few times as his chest heaved for breath, and then went still. The figure frowned and moved toward the body, the fingers gently grasping the boy's head, the other one shakily holding onto the shoulder.

"Akira...I'm so sorry..." the figure bowed his head and lifted the boy into his arms, unchaining his wrists and getting to his feet. He hugged the limp body closed to him, his breaths shaky. "I'm so sorry..."
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Dasu growled as he pulled at the tape that held him prisoner. He was standing against a wall, his hands taped together and then chained to the ceiling. His feet were held together with metal shackles, and his mouth was taped. Growling, he pulled at the tape and chains again, but couldn't get away.