aaalexiaaa
Guard
All characters are aged over 18 years
I used to get singled out and picked on a lot by the boys. They have this "gang" sort of thing (hard to translate), but it was just a few of them getting together, fooling around, and playing DND. The boys, with their 'gang' and their games, were relentless. It wasn't just D&D and goofing off—it was a constant campaign against me. Break times were a blur of panicked escapes and forced marches back to the room, where I'd become their captive audience, enduring their taunts and jeers. Once, they even 'sentenced' me to a jump rope whipping, the plastic cords whistling through the air before landing with feigned force against my back. My exaggerated yelps seemed to satisfy their need for a spectacle.
But the birthday party incident was different. It was one of the gang member's birthdays, and he'd clearly absorbed a little too much television. He cornered me, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity, declaring the party a trap, designed to get rid of me "once and for all." I remember staring at him, incredulous, convinced it was a joke. But the grim set of his jaw and the swiftness with which he bound my hands with a handkerchief told me otherwise. "You're going to be crucified," he announced, his voice mimicking the dramatic tone of the TV show he'd been obsessed with. His friends, a chorus of hyenas, howled with laughter.
They shoved me onto the table, my "very own cross of suffering and execution." My arms stretched out like I'm laid onto a cross. He produced a bolt, its dull point glinting under the harsh light. Even though it wasn't sharp, a shiver ran down my spine. Fear mingled with a strange curiosity. Was this really happening? How far were they willing to take this twisted game?
One of his cronies pried my left hand open, and he pressed the cold metal against my palm. It was oddly warm from being clutched in his fist. Was he nervous? Excited? A dull ache throbbed in my hand as he had another one of his friends bring over a metal box to use as a hammer. He positioned it on the head of the bolt, and I turned my head to watch, a wave of helplessness washing over me. For a terrifying moment, I truly felt like a sacrificial lamb strapped to an executioner's table. A surge of adrenaline, of defiance, forced the words out of my mouth: "Shit, looks like it's going to go through my hand!"
Little did I know, my outburst had sealed my fate for the night. Realizing that I had given in to his delusion, he slammed the box down with a burst of violence. The impact jolted through me, forcing my hand to curl into a fist. A sharp, burning pain radiated from my palm, and I cried out, a raw, involuntary scream.
He didn't stop. Each blow of the makeshift hammer intensified the agony, and I thrashed against my restraints, my body a vessel of pain. He remained focused, his eyes devoid of empathy, driven by some dark impulse. Finally, as if emerging from a trance, he stopped, the bolt leaving a bloody imprint on my skin, the start of my crucifixion. He moved on to my feet, directing his accomplices to pin them down.
...tbc
I used to get singled out and picked on a lot by the boys. They have this "gang" sort of thing (hard to translate), but it was just a few of them getting together, fooling around, and playing DND. The boys, with their 'gang' and their games, were relentless. It wasn't just D&D and goofing off—it was a constant campaign against me. Break times were a blur of panicked escapes and forced marches back to the room, where I'd become their captive audience, enduring their taunts and jeers. Once, they even 'sentenced' me to a jump rope whipping, the plastic cords whistling through the air before landing with feigned force against my back. My exaggerated yelps seemed to satisfy their need for a spectacle.
But the birthday party incident was different. It was one of the gang member's birthdays, and he'd clearly absorbed a little too much television. He cornered me, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity, declaring the party a trap, designed to get rid of me "once and for all." I remember staring at him, incredulous, convinced it was a joke. But the grim set of his jaw and the swiftness with which he bound my hands with a handkerchief told me otherwise. "You're going to be crucified," he announced, his voice mimicking the dramatic tone of the TV show he'd been obsessed with. His friends, a chorus of hyenas, howled with laughter.
They shoved me onto the table, my "very own cross of suffering and execution." My arms stretched out like I'm laid onto a cross. He produced a bolt, its dull point glinting under the harsh light. Even though it wasn't sharp, a shiver ran down my spine. Fear mingled with a strange curiosity. Was this really happening? How far were they willing to take this twisted game?
One of his cronies pried my left hand open, and he pressed the cold metal against my palm. It was oddly warm from being clutched in his fist. Was he nervous? Excited? A dull ache throbbed in my hand as he had another one of his friends bring over a metal box to use as a hammer. He positioned it on the head of the bolt, and I turned my head to watch, a wave of helplessness washing over me. For a terrifying moment, I truly felt like a sacrificial lamb strapped to an executioner's table. A surge of adrenaline, of defiance, forced the words out of my mouth: "Shit, looks like it's going to go through my hand!"
Little did I know, my outburst had sealed my fate for the night. Realizing that I had given in to his delusion, he slammed the box down with a burst of violence. The impact jolted through me, forcing my hand to curl into a fist. A sharp, burning pain radiated from my palm, and I cried out, a raw, involuntary scream.
He didn't stop. Each blow of the makeshift hammer intensified the agony, and I thrashed against my restraints, my body a vessel of pain. He remained focused, his eyes devoid of empathy, driven by some dark impulse. Finally, as if emerging from a trance, he stopped, the bolt leaving a bloody imprint on my skin, the start of my crucifixion. He moved on to my feet, directing his accomplices to pin them down.
...tbc
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