Caught And Tortured

Reyn stood paralyzed with fear as the bandits surrounded the unconscious woman lying on the forest floor.

One of the men—a burly, scarred fellow with a gruff voice—crouched beside her, roughly shaking her shoulder. "Get up, you wench. We're taking you back," he growled. The woman didn't respond, her body limp and still.

The bandit's expression shifted from irritation to concern as he leaned closer, pressing two thick fingers against the side of her neck. He froze, then pulled his hand back.

"She's gone," he announced flatly, standing up with a look of disgust. "Dead."

The words echoed in Reyn's ears. Dead? He couldn't believe it. The woman who had stolen his first kiss only moments ago, in a desperate attempt to escape, had somehow died in his arms?

A chill ran down his spine as the bandits' attention snapped toward him. Their eyes narrowed, suspicion and anger boiling to the surface.

"What did you do to her, boy?" one of the bandits demanded, his voice low and threatening.

Reyn stumbled backward, raising his hands in a futile attempt to ward off the accusation. "I didn't do anything! I swear!" he protested, his voice cracking with panic.

But his words weren't enough.

Bang!

A powerful blow from behind sent him sprawling to the ground, his vision going dark as pain exploded across his skull. The last thing he felt was rough hands grabbing his arms before consciousness slipped away.

«»«»«»

Reyn's eyes fluttered open to darkness. His head throbbed, and his cheeks burned with every slight movement.

As his vision adjusted, he saw dim candlelight flickering across the walls of a small, grimy room. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't respond the way he wanted them to. That's when he realized why: he was tied to a chair, ropes digging painfully into his wrists and ankles.

He looked around the room, his pulse quickening. Before him was a small wooden table cluttered with tools that gleamed ominously in the candlelight—knives, iron rods, and other implements whose purpose could only be sinister.

Sitting across from him, comfortably relaxed in a chair, was one of the bandits. He was a tall, wiry man with narrow eyes and a perpetual sneer on his lips. Two more bandits flanked Reyn, one standing to his right and the other to his left, their hands resting on the handles of their weapons.

"Ah, you're awake," the bandit in front of him said, his voice dripping with mockery. "I was worried you might sleep through our little chat."

Reyn's throat was dry, and his voice came out hoarse when he finally spoke. "I… I didn't kill her. I swear, I didn't do anything."

The bandit across from him raised an eyebrow, his sneer widening. "Didn't do anything, huh? Then explain why she was on top of you, dead as a rock." He leaned forward, his gaze boring into Reyn's eyes. "Start talking."

"She… she fell on me," Reyn stammered. "I was just—"

"Fell on you? That's convenient, isn't it?" the bandit scoffed, interrupting him. "And I suppose she just happened to kiss you while she was at it?"

Reyn hesitated, his mind racing. He knew how absurd it sounded, but it was the truth. "Yes," he replied, his voice barely a whisper. "She kissed me, and then… she just… died."

The bandits exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter, their voices echoing around the room. "A kiss of death, huh?" one of the men standing beside Reyn chuckled. "How romantic."

The laughter died down, replaced by the harsh glint in the interrogator's eyes as he pressed on. "Why would she kiss you, boy? What was she to you?"

"I… I don't know," Reyn replied helplessly. "I don't even know who she was. She just came running out of the house and—"

Bang!

Another blow came without warning, the bandit on his left delivering a solid punch to Reyn's cheek. His head snapped to the side, and pain flared through his skull. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he gasped for breath.

"Lies," the interrogator said coldly. "You expect us to believe you don't know her, yet she just happened to die in your arms with a kiss?" He picked up a slender dagger from the table and twirled it between his fingers, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light.

"You know what I think? I think you two knew each other. I think you gave her a 'goodbye kiss' before you slit her throat."

Reyn's heart sank. "No! That's not what happened!" he protested, desperation in his voice. "She was running from you! She fell on top of me before I could even react!"

The bandit's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened with cruel amusement. "If that's the case, then what were you doing out here, boy? Hiding in the forest like a rat?"

Reyn hesitated, his mind whirling with panic. He hadn't considered how to explain his presence here. The truth about the village could bring the bandits right to its doorstep, endangering everyone. He had to think of something else—anything else.

"I… I was banished," he lied, his voice trembling. "I served a mage… back in the city. But I angered him, and he sent me out here as punishment."

The bandits exchanged skeptical glances, and the interrogator's sneer returned. "Is that so?" he drawled, his tone dripping with disbelief. "Then tell me, where exactly are we, servant boy? What's the name of this forest?"

Reyn's mind went blank. He had never left the village before today, and while some of the other villagers might know the name of the forest, he had never paid attention to Irvin's stories about the world beyond the village. It was just a dark stretch of trees with monsters lurking to him, nothing more.

"I… I don't know," he confessed, his voice breaking.

His answer was met with a resounding crack as the bandit on his right delivered a brutal punch to his jaw. The world spun as agony rippled through his face, the force of the blow making his head swim. "Liar!" the bandit growled. "You think we're fools? You expect us to believe you've been wandering aimlessly out here without knowing where you are?"

Reyn gasped for breath, his chest heaving with each painful inhale. The room seemed to spin as blood dripped from his split lip onto his chin.

His entire face throbbed, and his vision blurred, but through the haze of pain, he could see the sneer on the interrogator's face deepen.

The man leaned in closer, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Let's try this again, boy. Why were you really here?"

"I have no..."

Bang!

The blows continued, each question met with a savage punch whenever Reyn's answers failed to satisfy them.

Within minutes, his face had been beaten to a pulp, bruises and cuts marring his skin. He could barely feel his own lips anymore, his body numb from the repeated abuse.

As the torture dragged on, Reyn's thoughts became scattered. His entire body screamed with pain, but he clung to one small hope—if he could keep them from finding out about the village, maybe the people he cared about could be spared.