"They each took turns beating on him like a drum, whose melody came out in the forms of screams, moans, whimpers, and other inaudible sounds of human suffering." Suggested by AnotherKnifeInMyHand
While his vision had gotten better, it was far from being back to normal --- and Gerard could not help but feel worried after some time. It was not like it really mattered, he supposed, he was going to die here anyway.
Yet his motivation had been renewed by the idea that help might be lurking around in the hands of the healer. They even smelled familiar.
Or was that just wishful thinking?
Every time the door opened, he had hoped it was them. He would hide the book at the foot of the bed, on the right hand corner. Just as he did hurriedly now, when he heard the familiar clickity clack of the lock breaking free from it’s hold.
Burry blackbird blobs came inside the room, three of them from what he could gather. He squinted to see what they might have with them, and what looked like sticks or poles came into focus, but his eyes could not grasp the details.
He heard the shuffling of their feet as they glided towards him, the only sound in the room. The only sound he ever heard anymore besides the sounds of his own screaming. He had become accustom to screaming even when they weren’t there. He supposed he had just gotten too used to the sound of it.
A blob came to the top left hand corner of his bed. They took a hand and swept the greasy strands of hair out of his face. The blackbird then lifted what was in his other hand, and Gerard could see it much clearer. It was a weight, like the kind you lifted at gyms.
Did they expect him to do any weight lifting?
That would be silly --- he could barely lift that damned book. All his muscles had atrophied. Anything that had to do with something you would do at a gym would just be impossible at this point.
In a bittersweet turn of events however, that is not at all what they turned out to expect of Gerard.
The other two blackbirds took their positions. One was exactly on the opposite side of where the first one stood --- Gerard prayed they wouldn’t notice the book --- and the third one stood at the end of the bed. Each of them had a weight, just like the first. If Gerard could have seen properly, the number 150 lb was etched in white on both sides of them all.
The first one who had stood by him took the first swing.
With a mighty lurch, they raised the dumbbell over their head and smashed one of it’s ends into Gerard’s stomach as hard as he could. Gerard screeched, and he felt bile rise up on it’s first blow. The second blow came from the one opposite him, taking a swing with the same amount of force.
The cold metal weight clashed with the bare skin of Gerard’s stomach with great force, seeming intent on puncturing through the superficial layer and into the membranes and such inside. Gerard screeched again.
The third one was aimed at his already mangled legs, hitting right were the broken bones lay in a twisted heap. Gerard tried to curl them inwardly to avoid it, but he had lost quite a bit of control over his lower half. The farthest he got was a slight twitch.
It did not matter --- the next blow to his stomach came down hard enough to make him forget about the blow to his legs.
They each took turns beating on him like a drum, whose melody came out in the forms of screams, moans, whimpers, and other inaudible sounds of human suffering.
Something in Gerard’s legs had snapped again. He groaned, but again had little time to dwell before the next blow to his abdomen. They tenderized him so that he might be ready for feasting on with their sharp beaks.
A great, searing pain that outshone the rest was felt in the lower abdomen. He could not see or know, but Gerard’s intestine had just ruptured. He still certainly did feel it, despite being unsure of it’s exact cause. He could not stop bellowing, his eyes hot with tears.
They finished swinging their weights upon him shortly after, perhaps realizing that they had caused him serious injury. They left him to writhe, the skin of his trunk a dark red mess and his belly full of blood.
Next chapter: “Rotten limbs start to ferment, torso's torn in two. Skin ripped off to expose muscle tissue, butchered for human stew.”