Chapter 9

Eric slowly wakes up, he is sweating uncontrollably, as he sits up Benji looking at him, Benji in shacking voice said. ''Y-you f-fain-ted''. Eric without a words got up for the couch and completed his cooking.

With the meal concluded, Eric carried Benji to his bedroom, placing him gently on the bed. As Benji covered himself with the blanket, Eric seated himself beside him, a heavy silence lingering in the room.

For a moment, Eric's gaze bore into Benji, an unsettling quiet enveloping them. Breaking the stillness, Eric spoke, revealing the twisted rationale behind the atrocities that had unfolded.

"I could've killed you and let the body linger a bit longer," Eric began, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. "But here's the thing – I've never killed someone who didn't deserve it, who hadn't done something truly heinous, like taking the lives of the innocent."

Benji, unable to conceal his distress, instinctively moved to bury his face in the blanket. However, Eric pulled it away, demanding his captive's attention.

"Listen to me," Eric insisted, a strange mixture of coldness and introspection in his eyes. "I think I'm special. My father was a wretched man, shamelessly cheating on his wife. When my mother found out, she killed him, butchered him, and served him to the neighbors, using me as her way to dispose of the evidence."

The horrifying confession left Benji speechless, his mind struggling to comprehend the depths of depravity that surrounded him.

"By the time I turned 18, she tried to kill me, but I ended up killing her instead," Eric continued, his hand gently caressing Benji's face. "Now, you'll be very obedient to me, won't you? A good boy, for me."

Benji, still processing the nightmarish revelations, could only nod, his fear and confusion palpable.

"As long as you're a good boy," Eric added with a twisted sense of satisfaction, "you can at least roll around the house. But don't forget, there's a line. Cross it, and you'll find out what real pain feels like."

With a grim directive, Eric took Benji outside, positioning him near the stone steps and the threshold of the door. Picking up a knife, he ominously hinted at the consequences awaiting any disobedience.

"The distance between the doorstep and the main door is about five steps," Eric explained, the blade glinting ominously. "Cross that line, and I'll cut your neck slowly, making sure you feel every bit of pain."

Left with no other choice, Benji, trapped in the confines of his nightmarish reality, had no option but to comply with the distorted rules set by his tormentor. The dance of obedience and terror continued, each step taken under the looming threat of a violence that transcended comprehension.

As time passed, Benji found himself entangled in a grotesque routine, performing household chores under the watchful eye of Eric. Cleaning, washing dishes, and other menial tasks became the backdrop of his captivity, each action scrutinized by his tormentor.

Silent observation was the norm until one day when Eric noticed a missed spot. The ominous quiet broke as Eric warned, "Be careful, Benji. I wouldn't want your other leg to end up broken."

Determined to rectify the oversight, Benji assured, "I'll take care of it."

However, Eric, with a sudden intensity, approached him, seizing a handful of Benji's hair. "The things I hate the most are mistakes and lies," he hissed, pulling Benji's face closer to his own.

As Benji winced in pain, Eric continued with a chilling calmness, "If you make a mistake, admit it. Don't lie to me, or you might find yourself in a world of pain."

With a forceful release, Eric let go of Benji, who hastened to clear the overlooked spot. The dance of obedience continued, the threat of punishment hanging over Benji's every move. In this twisted reality, mistakes and lies were unforgivable sins, and Benji navigated the treacherous terrain, each action weighed against the looming specter of Eric's sadistic judgment.