Danger in the Dark

He inhaled sharply as he felt the cold tip of the blade puncture through his skin just below his rib bone. A split second later, all sanity left his mind as the searing pain flowed over his entire body in agonizing waves.

He looked down, vision blurred with tears. He could just make out the handle of the serrated pocket knife that had just been shoved unceremoniously into his side. He would have been rolling around in agony had his limbs not been securely bound to the metal armchair. He desperately wanted the knife out as he felt the blade move around inside him with each shuddering gasp of air he took. Yet ironically, he knew that the knife was the only thing keeping him alive, as he would bleed to death if it were to be pulled out. After dragging in few more white-hot searingly painful breaths, he received temporary mercy in the murky depths of unconsciousness.

When he came to a few hours later, his vision was blurred and he was shivering with cold. Yet he could feel drops of sweat rolling down his neck. He could not see well in this dimly-lit new environment, but he could tell it was a basement or cellar of some sort. A slight attempt to stand up informed him that he was still securely tied to the chair. He was still trapped.

Once oriented with his new surroundings, his awareness slowly drifted down to his left rib. There was no longer any searing pain in his side, just a dull ebbing ache whenever he breathed. He could still see and feel the knife in his side however, except now there had been a vile looking green cream smeared around the open would and the blade. Antiseptic cream. Hah.

He heard a soft sniffle and he immediately went into alert mode, glaring around the musty room as best he could (why did his eyes absolutely refuse to focus??)

He knew he wasn't alone, and judging from the staggered breathing he was now aware of, there were at least three others in there with him. Friend or foe, he could not tell.