TW for torture.

Arthur Bekkar, 19

District 5 Citizen

I wake up with my arms tied around my back and my head pounding. I slowly blink my eyes open, looking around curiously.

The room I'm in is mostly dark. The only light source comes from a single lightbulb hanging above my head. It has such a small radius that I can't tell how big the room actually is, or how many people might be lurking in the shadows.

"…hello?" I call tentatively into the darkness, struggling to move my arms or legs. My hands are tied around the back of the chair I'm seated in, with my legs tied to the legs of the chair as well. The only good thing I can think of about this situation is that I'm not blindfolded, nor am I gagged.


My head whips around in the search of the voice's source, at last locating a woman standing just on the edge of the light.

"We were wondering if you were ever going to wake up." The woman steps closer, pacing in a circle around my chair, her hands dancing on my shoulders. "I'm Szola. I'm sure you remember me, yes…?"

"No," I answer immediately. "I've never seen you before in my life."

"I don't believe that," Szola says in a low voice. "But, maybe you recognize Alton instead?"

A man steps out of the shadows, twirling a knife between his fingers. And yes, I do recognize him. I recognize Szola as well. But I haven't seen either of them for years…in all honestly, I thought they were dead. They should be dead. Everyone from that horrid rebel group should be dead…

Yet here Alton and Szola stand, a testament to some sort of flaw in the system.

"…no," I manage to choke out.

"I really just don't believe you," Szola says, holding out her hand for Alton's knife. He sets the blade in the palm of her hand, and she approaches me with malice in her eyes. "If you are so blind that you can't recognize Alton or me, then maybe you don't need those faulty eyes at all, do you?" She shoves the blade underneath my left eye, eliciting of cry of pain from my mouth. "So you really, really don't recognize us, do you, Arthur?"

"No! No! I recognize you! I know you! Please stop!"

Szola smiles tersely and pulls the knife from my eye socket. I feel a drop of blood trickle down my face. "Maybe you need something to help you remember us so you don't forget again, hm?"

She takes the knife and start to cut off my shirt. I feel my muscles tense as I look at her face, unsure of what her plan is.

Once a nice sized section of my shirt has fallen to the ground, she presses the knife into my skin, drawing it along in some sort of pattern. I let my head drop against the chair back, not wanting to watch whatever she is doing. After all, I have no desire to see my own blood be shed, especially not here…

"All done," Szola says after some amount of time. I stopped counting the minutes long ago. "Alton, bring the mirror, will you?"

Shuffling footsteps tell me that Alton has gone to get a mirror, which does not bode well. He returns a few moments later and hands Szola the mirror.

"See?" Szola says in a sickly-sweet voice, holding the mirror up to my chest. "Now you won't forget us again."

My head remains resolutely against the chair back, my eyes closed and facing the ceiling.

"Alton, make him look at the mirror." Alton sharply grabs my head and pries my eyes open, forcing me to look into the mirror.

My eyes widen in horror as I stare at the bloodied mess that has become my chest, reflecting the words now carved into my skin.


"The Hydras?" I ask weakly.

"We changed our name in honor of one of our great fallen warriors," Szola explains. "And now you can't forget that you are one of us, honey. Your parents may have been executed, but the rest of us are still here…and we are going to get what we want."

"What you want is anarchy," I say in the strongest voice I can muster. "And even if that isn't part of the plan…any c-country would fall apart with you at the helm."

Szola's face deepens with anger. "You know, maybe I was wrong…maybe you don't need those eyes after all."

"No, no, no, no, no, no—" I start stammer as Szola digs her blade back into my eye, pressing it upwards in the socket. My words are cut off by screams that fight their way out of my throat as my hands blindly fail around behind the chair. In the horror and pain of the moment, I practically forget that I'm tied down…

Szola starts talking again, saying about how pretty my eyes are as she pulls the left one from its socket. An extremely loud, horrible scream breaks out of my mouth, and then everything goes black.



A/N: Well, well, well, an update for this story. And, as it so happens, the final Die A Hero update! I was going to do third epilogue about Arthur (Singlewave) but decided against it when I realized I had no clue what would happen in it. So, instead, we see the final thing I had planned for this story.

I don't really see a need to do questions for this chapter, so I'm going to skip them because I don't know what I'd write for them.

Random Question of the Chapter: what will come of, well, any of this chapter?

My answer: it's something that's been brewing in my head for a while now. It's going to be pretty cool when I get it all figured out, but for now, I'm slowly plotting out everything. Some of it has, obviously, already been hinted at in the past.

So! This story is finished! Wow. I'm really happy to have finished not one, but two SYOTs, and the Bloodiest Place on Earth will hopefully join that roster in the next few months!

Signing out for the last time on this story,