"That girl didn't even last 3 days. Why are humans so fragile?" I no longer know what this lunatic is thinking when he starts talking like this, as if he isn't human like us, with that superiority complex.
"Oh, my dear Arthur, what are you thinking? Are you sad that she left you so quickly without saying goodbye? Don't worry, I'm with you, your eternal friend."
That's frankly disgusting. His perverted expression, and his excitement for her, is truly hideous. I wish for nothing but my death so that I never see her again. But even that feeling faded with time.
An easy wish for those who came before and after me, and a difficult one for me. I've wondered time and time again how I'm still alive. What is my damned body made of? I don't even know. Even Victor himself, with all the torture, dissection, and experiments, still doesn't understand how my body holds up.
"Are you thinking about yourself again? You just want to die and leave me alone. Tell me what I'd do without you. Am I the only one who thinks we make a great team? I'm the painter and you're the canvas."
I looked at him with dead eyes, and all that came to mind was that his truly sick thinking never fails to amaze me. He talks about Things and actions that seemed normal.
He turned toward the exit and spoke again.
"Our food supply has run out, so I'll go get supplies and pick up a new toy.
Don't worry, I won't be long, and I'll bring you a gift on my way."
He left, and the place fell silent. There was no one left alive except me, temporarily, because he'll bring another victim today or tomorrow.
The question that puzzled me was how he wasn't caught, even though he'd kidnapped so many people.
Just during my time here, he'd kidnapped about 20 people. I don't know how many were before me, but it could be as many as 100 or more.
Because, as he says, he began his profession, as he calls it, three years ago. He's kidnapped and tortured many people from different areas, always kidnapping from different places.
He said that where he found me was the furthest area from this warehouse, and let's not forget the number of people he killed directly, which was many times that.
How do I know that? He always tells me his horrific stories and how he works, with that tone of pride and superiority at the time. His emptiness
I've been waiting so long, absentminded. It's been two days since he left. He usually doesn't delay until he's killed someone to bury them or stalk his prey, waiting for an opportunity.
Because his victims are of two types: people he finds randomly, like me, and the second type is the one he targets after tracking them down and kidnapping them at the right time. They have one thing in common: they're all female.
The reason for this is revenge for psychological comfort, and the reason for this is very stupid after hearing his story, but that's for another day.
After waiting, I heard the sound of someone opening the door. Who else would you talk about when you talk about the devil? But this time, it was strange because he didn't speak when he entered, as he usually does.
I raised my head and looked, and I saw a terrified person staring at me as if he were seeing a monster. I could see him sweating and breathing rapidly from the intensity of his terror.
When he saw me looking at him, he quickly ran away, shouting only one word: "Worse, worrisome!"
I was surprised by the scene, not understanding what was happening. I asked myself, "Has someone lost their way to this abandoned warehouse?"
His escaping like this meant he was going to report him to the police. And they stormed into the place. I didn't know how I felt, but it was just indifference. I didn't care. If the police or Victor came, nothing would change.
Only my death would save me. I no longer felt anything, neither joy nor sadness, just a distorted, numb face with no noticeable expression.
After about half a day, I heard police sirens, and then that heroic storming that happens in movies. I looked at the horror that appeared on their faces after seeing me. I looked at all the scenes with indifference.
They didn't understand anything. It seemed that the person had told them about me, but they didn't believe him. Now they see it. Their reaction wasn't surprising to me, and I didn't care.
After a while, a man entered and looked at the police squad, then at me. He was surprised, but then he spoke to someone nearby who called an ambulance. That person was surprised and looked at a man who answered him, stammering, "Yes, sir."
He gave the police a search warrant and approached me, speaking in a compassionate tone, "You've suffered a lot. Don't worry. We'll find the perpetrator, and he'll be prosecuted for his actions."
I looked at him. Not caring what he said, I don't care anymore because it's too late.
He understood my indifference. "I'm sorry, boy, for not finding you sooner. No matter how sorry we are, it won't bring you back because of our negligence towards you and all your comrades. I'm sorry again."
After a while, the ambulance arrived and the doctors entered. After a while, I was surprised at how much this happened every time. They took me on a stretcher outside the warehouse to the ambulance. Upon exiting, a wave of pain hit my eyes from the intense light after a very long time without seeing the sun.
It was bright and warm, and the sky was clear, even though the past few days had been rainy.
We got into a car, and I stared at the roof of the car from the stretcher, just waiting for it to shake after a while of being in it.
After a while of moving, I began to fall asleep. I don't know why I felt sleepy, but I didn't resist and closed my eyes. I fell asleep shortly after.
I don't know how long I slept, but it was the best sleep I've ever had in my life. That's what I felt after waking up.
But what was this? Feeling
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