Chapter Six-Allow Me

{WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE. NOT SUITABLE FOR YOUNG READERS}

In a void room, a suffocating darkness pierced only by a sliver of flickering light from the bulb hanging from the ceiling. Bob groaned, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to focus, his senses slowly returning. The dim light illuminated the rough, uneven walls, the dampness clinging to the air.

"Bobby! You're awake!''.A voice, deceptively cheerful, cut through the silence. Roshan emerged from the shadows, his approach slow and deliberate. His eyes, though, held no warmth, only a cold, burning disdain. ''God, I couldn't sleep all night, thinking about all the fun we're going to have together.'' The words dripped with a sinister anticipation.

The smile on Roshan's face vanished, replaced by a chillingly predatory look. Bob's head shook violently, his eyes brimming with fear as he tried to speak through the thick tape covering his mouth. He thrashed against the ropes binding him to the chair, the rough fibers biting into his skin, but the restraints held firm.

"No, Bobby, don't do that. You'll only hurt yourself.'' Roshan's voice, now a low, menacing trill, sent a shiver down Bob's spine. ''Allow me.''

With a subtle gesture, Roshan signaled, and moments later, Damon entered the room. He carried a heavy, leather pouch, its contents unseen, and placed it with a dull thud on the table beside Bob.

"Leave us". Roshan ordered and Damon exited the room without a word.

Roshan walked over to the table where the large pouch laid, Bob's eyes following him in fright as he made his way over to the table.

Roshan casually flipped open the leather pouch, revealing a horrifying array of tools. Gleaming metal implements, barbed hooks, and razor-sharp blades lay nestled in the worn interior. Bob's eyes widened, his pupils dilating in terror. His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. A cold sweat slicked his skin. He renewed his struggle against the ropes, a desperate, futile attempt to escape.

Roshan, oblivious to Bob's terror, began to rummage through the contents of the pouch, his movements almost leisurely. And then, he began to hum. A familiar, childish tune filled the air: the theme song from Bob the Builder.

Bob's mind reeled. This man was a monster. A complete and utter psychopath. How could he possibly hum such an innocent, cheerful song when he's about to torture someone to death?. The incongruity of it, the sheer, twisted normalcy, was more terrifying than anything Bob has ever experienced or seen.

At that moment, it was ministered to his spirit, he could kiss the rest of his miserable life goodbye cause he won't live to see another dawn in the hands of this madman.

"Ahah!". Bob heard Roshan exclaim. He saw his eyes lit up like a child that just saw his Christmas presents as he held up a scary tool with the shape like that of a screw.

Roshan approached with the thumbscrew in hand. He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over Bob's terror-stricken face. His eyes, dark and glittering with pure, unadulterated hatred, held Bob captive. "Do you know what this is, Bobby?". He asked, his voice a low, silken threat, the tool held aloft like a macabre trophy.

Bob shook his head, a frantic, desperate denial, his body contorting in a futile attempt to escape. The sight of the thumbscrew, the promise of agonizing pain, sent waves of nausea through him.

Roshan watched Bob's struggles with detached amusement, a cruel smile twisting his lips. ''Such… enthusiasm". He murmured, his voice dripping with mockery. With a swift, brutal motion, he ripped the tape from Bob's mouth, silencing the muffled cries.

"No, no, please! Get that thing away from me!". Bob's plea, raw and desperate, filled the room but Roshan couldn't care less.

Roshan's gaze dropped to Bob's hands, his eyes narrowing in disgust. ''When was the last time you clipped those… talons, Bobby?''. He drawled, his voice laced with disdain. ''Quite the eyesore. But don't worry,'' he continued, his tone turning chillingly cheerful, ''I'm about to give you the manicure you so desperately need.''.

The click of the thumbscrew's mechanism echoed through the room, a terrifying sound that promised unimaginable pain. He placed it on Bob's thumb and began his torture.

The first turn of the thumbscrew was a slow, deliberate act of cruelty. Bob's scream, raw and animalistic, ripped through the room, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the very air. Roshan watched, his eyes cold and clinical, as the skin around Bob's thumbs began to whiten, then bruise.

''Such a delicate instrument". Roshan mused, his voice almost conversational, as he tightened the screw another notch. Bob's body convulsed, his muscles straining against the restraints, his cries a desperate, broken cry of pain.

"It's all about precision, you see. Finding that perfect point between agony and… well, more agony."

"Aaaaahhhh!". Bob screamed loudly, jolting his hand but was held back by the tight rope.

With each turn of the screw, Bob's screams grew weaker, replaced by choked gasps and whimpers. His eyes, wide with terror, pleaded for mercy, for an end to the torment. Roshan, however, seemed to relish the sight, his expression a mask of detached fascination.

He continued his methodical torture, the thumbscrew biting deeper, grinding bone against bone. The sickening crunch was lost in Bob's strangled cries.

"Why...are you doing this?". Bob asked in a weary voice.

At that moment, it suddenly dawned on Roshan that he had neglected to reveal the purpose behind the torment. "Oh shit". He muttered and chuckled darkly, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Silly me. You see, I was just too excited at the thought of torturing you that I skipped the intro. Now, let's rewind". He took a chair and sat face to face with Bob.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Bob's trembling form, his eyes lingering on the ruined hands. ''You see, Bobby, you've been a bad, bad, boy. You made a mistake. A grave mistake. You laid your grimy hands on something that belongs to me. On someone who is mine.'' His voice dropped to a whisper, but the intensity behind it was like a physical force.

"What are you talking about?. Who are you referring to?". Bob asked.

''Reina,''. He said, the name a caress and a curse in the same breath. "You dared to touch her. You dared to try and defile something so pure, so precious. You thought you could take what wasn't yours. You thought you could get away with it.''

He stood up, his movements fluid and predatory, like a panther about to strike. ''You see, Bobby, I am not a forgiving man. I am not a merciful man. Ah, who am I kidding?!. I'm not even a man to begin with!".He leaned over, his cold breath grazing Bob's skin as he whispered. "I am, the devil!" .The air around him seemed to crackle with an unseen energy as he said those words.

He turned away, a chilling smile playing on his lips. ''Let's continue, shall we?''.

He began to apply pressure to the already damaged thumbs again before doing the same thing to the rest of Bob's fingers, and Bob's world dissolved into a black abyss of pain.

After Roshan was done with the thumbscrew, Bob's hands were already mangled, his body trembling, his eyes glazed with pain. Roshan placed the thumbscrew back into the leather pouch. He then retrieved another tool, a thin, gleaming metal rod.

"Now, Bobby, let's explore some… alternatives.'' He selected a thin, wicked-looking metal rod from the pouch. ''This,'' he purred, ''is a heated awl. A delightful little instrument for exploring the inner workings of the human nervous system.''

He held it close to the flickering light, the tip glowing a dull red. ''Imagine, Bobby, the sensation of molten metal piercing your flesh, tracing a fiery path along your nerves.''

He pressed the heated tip against Bob's skin, a small, hissing sound filling the room as the flesh sizzled and smoked.

"Ahhhhh!". Bob's scream was a raw, animalistic sound, a primal cry of agony.

Roshan watched with detached interest, his eyes gleaming. ''Exquisite". He murmured. "The raw, untamed symphony of pain". He withdrew the awl, leaving a blackened, smoking wound. ''But variety, Bobby, is the spice of life.''

He repeated the same torture on the rest of Bob's body including his eyes. Making sure to heat up the rod till it glows a bright red before using it on him.

The whole room was filled with the smell of Bob's burning flesh and his agonizing screams.

He reached into the pouch again, this time retrieving a set of small, serrated clamps. ''These,'' he explained, his voice almost clinical, ''are called… rib crackers. They are designed to apply precise, localized pressure, until… well, until something gives.'' He attached the clamps to Bob's ribs, the cold metal biting into his flesh.

With each turn of the large screw, Bob's breath hitched, his body convulsing. A sickening crack echoed through the room as Bob's ribs snapped, and he screamed, a broken, ragged sound.

Bob suddenly passed out from the severe pain but Roshan wasn't done. He took a bucket of water and splashed it on Bob's face.

"Hey, wake the fuck up!". He slapped Bob across the face, the loud bang echoing in the room.

Bob jolted with a loud scream of pain and agony.

"Unlike you Bobby, You see, I'm a busy man. I actually do have to go to work. So, let's make this as slow and painful as possible. Shall we?".

Roshan grinned, his eyes now glowing red, his aura dark and menacing. He calmly walked over to the table to retrieve another torture device from the pouch.

"Please...just kill me". Bob pleaded barely audible.

Roshan rolled his eyes after hearing Bob's plea to end his life. "Someone has got some entitlement issues".

"And for the grand finale,'' Roshan announced, his voice laced with a dark theatricality. "A personal favorite." He produced a small, unassuming drill, its tip gleaming menacingly. ''This,''. He said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, "is a cranial drill. It allows me to… explore the deeper recesses of the mind. So, let's take a trip to Bobbyland!.''

He positioned the drill against Bob's temple, the humming of the motor a terrifying counterpoint to Bob's frantic whimpers.

Bob, his body broken, his mind shattered by the unimaginable pain, could only whimper, his eyes wide with terror as the device bore holes into his skull.

Roshan watched Bob's life drain away, his expression a mask of chilling indifference. He leaned closer, his voice a low, silken whisper. "Damn you Bobby. You've ensured to leave my Reina traumatized for the rest of her life because of what you did".

With a sudden burst of fury, he raked his fingers through his hair, and then, with a vicious kick, he sent Bob's lifeless body crashing into the wall. The impact was tremendous, leaving a gaping hole and a web of cracks in the shattered plaster.

Roshan then exited the room. As he stepped out of the room, Damon stood by the door waiting. "Get rid of that dump". Roshan commanded and kept walking while lighting up a cigarette.

"On it". Damon replied and went inside.