Gaz as always, found himself in another dangerous situation, it seemed to be a part of his daily life at this point.
Taken from his team, deep within enemy lines. There was a nagging feeling in his mind that horror was about to befall him, mental and physical torture to crack him.
When a knife cut his skin, those thoughts became a new reality. It was the beginning of a miserable existence. He could give them information, but he knew he would die either way.
“Feel like talking yet?” His tormentor asked and wiped the blood off the knife, but Gaz only chuckled in response. “You’re gonna regret this,” he mused.
The enemy soldier only scoffed in return, he was about to inflict another cut, but stopped when the room suddenly dropped in temperature. So cold he could see his breath.
The cast of Gaz’s shadow grew longer, stretching across the wall and taking the form of a person, and through the shadow, you stepped out, the devil.
Your presence was spine-chilling, intimidating, yet so inviting. “Shouldn’t have attacked someone who’s friends with the devil,” Gaz mumbled with a smile.