[The idea in general for this story was something I kind of stole from Fanfiction user I-am-the-Mathgoth. Please, please forgive me and anybody who is reading this, GO FUCKIN' LOOK HER UP! I'M SERIOUS! JESUS CHRIST, HER WRITING IS FAN-FUCKIN'-TASTIC!

Anyways.. I'm bored of my other stories and having trouble with angstiness. Ya know, common teenager shit. I'm almost fourteen. That means I've been on the site for almost 2 years… Wow. Enjoy The Empty Grave!]

The Empty Grave

I leapt away from the insane youthful man, my arm split almost in half, it felt like. I could see the bone. Suddenly, a roundhouse kick to my stomach crippled me and I fell to the floor.

A sombre face appeared over mine, dark hair almost touching my bloody, scratched forehead. He grabbed my hands and clipped shackles on, twisting my butchered arm even more. My blood flowed profusely from the carnage that was me, making me woozy and I dropped my head back onto the floor, breathing heavily and fighting to get enough oxygen.

He then clipped shackles on my legs, and my eyes flickered to his face. He was rubbing his smooth jaw with leather-gloved hands, smirking slightly.

'What's so interesting?' I managed to wheeze out.

'You're not screaming or fighting. Usually it's one of the four- anger, sadness, promises, or apologies. You aren't performing an act of any.'

'Want me to clarify?'

'Yes.'

'I'm not angry, I don't really care. Sadness? What's there to be sad about? And I have no promises to make, nor apologies, as I don't know you.'

'Interesting.'

I squinted my eyes and bared my teeth in a snarl.

'In pain is a given, though. My arm is torn to shreds if you have not noticed.'

'Oh, yes, I noticed. You are actually quite interesting.' He looked me over carefully. 'I am sorry that I chose you randomly to die.'

'Don't be. I want to die.' He smirked again, interest flashing in his eyes.

'Why do you want to die?'

'None of your business, I'm afraid, sir.'

He laughed. 'Oh, none of the formality foolishness. I am Johnny, but you may call me Nny, since I like you.'

I coughed, bringing blood to my mouth with a salty, metallic tang. 'I don't like my name. Call me what you want.'

He leaned over me, peering at my face. 'I'll call you Blood, then.'

'Why Blood?'

'It's what you're covered in, and it's what will splatter the walls when I kill you.'

'Get on with it then, Nny.'

'No, I like you. You will stay with me for a while.'

'Why?'

'I should keep you as something like a pet. That would be quite fun. I haven't tried that before, as I once had a rabbit, but I nailed it to a wall when I was in a bad mood.'

My shocked, disgusted expression must have amused him, because he smiled evilly.

'I'll take you to your cage, then, Blood.'

He slung me over his shoulder, my exposed flesh scraping against itself roughly. I barely bit down a screech of pain as the agony lanced through my body.

I was then thrown into a room. For a fuckin' stick, this guy was strong. He came in and undid the shackles, whistling a happy tune, as though this were his favourite thing to do.

Come to think of it, it probably was.

He left, slamming the door behind him. A click indicated it was locked. I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling. I wasn't sure if others were around me, but the rotting flesh smell made me a little too scared to find out. Fear managed to make its way through my system, and my heart pounded irregularly..

Forgive me, but it appears as though I haven't introduced myself…

Nny appears to want to call me Blood, which is fine, as I hate my real name. I won't tell you it. Ever. I have black hair, green eyes, and I'm something like 5'4 last time I checked. I don't even know my weight, I just know I'm not a stick, but not fat.

Anyways…

I was walking around having a bit of an anxiety attack, which is common, due to clinical depression. I'm eighteen and ran away from home when I was fifteen. I was walking down an alleyway, brooding, writing in an angsty diary of mine when this guy appeared. He looked like the common Goth, with his dark hair over his bloodshot eyes which reflected dark insanity.

I had placed my book in my pocket with my pen, backing up suspiciously, my black hair swishing in front of my face irritatingly.

He had stopped. 'Do you think I look weird?'

I immediately thought, What the hell kind of a question is that for a potential rapist?

'You.. You look like a Goth,' I had replied.

He nodded. 'Mm-hmm. What are you thinking?'

'I'm nervous because I don't know why the fuck you're asking this retarded shit.'

'That's enough.'

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on my head and I fell forwards, blacking out. It was all too fast- I don't particularly know what happened. My guess is I was hit.

Lying on the dark room, I was finally brave enough to sit up and look at my arm. It wasn't as bad as it felt, a knife slash went down it and the bone was merely broken, not shattered. With whatever limited medical knowledge I had from watching House and shit, I could set it and fix it with something lying around.

I was beaten badly, a scab on the back of my head and my pants slashed to bits with knife marks.

I looked at my left hand, the arm that wasn't broken, but slashed with knife marks, of course. I was going to have little X's and lines all over my body for life.

The funny thing I noticed was any sexual part of me was untouched. My chest was fine, along with my crotch area. Anything else was slashed to bits. My back, my stomach, my arms. My face was attacked not as badly as the rest. My two tiger stripe tattoos on my cheek were fine.

I stood up, looking around with disgust. I was in a dimly-lit room, with no corpses. The rotting flesh scent was probably just from everywhere. I knew without a doubt from the blood stains on the walls that I wasn't the only one who had been destined to perish in this hell. The concrete floor that I lay on was freezing, and the dark, vacant room obviously had nothing to help comfort a cold human. I stood up, my arm protesting angrily.

I felt my way over to one of the corners, and curled into a ball, a small sob escaping me. Hell, I was scared. I'd wanted to die for a long time. This guy was going to do it. I should thank him, but I knew I would be tortured endlessly before it happened.

I stiffened and started spasming, the anxiety too much for me. It wasn't a seizure, but I didn't have anything to be violent at. At home, I could take a pillow or a paper towel or an apple and destroy it to fix my anger. Here, it was an empty room where I could lie on the floor and go insane.

I rocked back and forth, holding my arm in what felt like the right position. I closed my eyes, tears of fear and frustration squeezing out, and tried to fall asleep and escape this nightmare for a little while.

…

My eyes shot open when I heard the lock click, and I tried to jump backwards, slipping on my own blood and cracking my head on the wall.

I heard a slow noise.

Cree-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ak.

The door opened, squeaking ominously, and I almost started hyperventilating in fear. My heart pounded, and adrenaline pulsed through me with a vengeance.

I heard wails and screams from behind the door, and Johnny's voice came ominously to me.

'Heeeeere, kitty-kitty-kitty…'

I steeled myself for more pain, but a light I didn't know existed flickered on, and a weird beaming grin crossed Nny's face the second he saw me curled up in the corner.

'Come here, Blood. I want to show you something.'

I remained motionless, glaring over at him balefully.

'Being brave, are we? Well, I could just gouge your eyes out so that you can never see again, rather than quickly come see what I wish to show you.'

I got up, very woozy from the lack of blood, and Nny took a thoughtful expression. 'Oh, right, you bleed, don't you? We shall have to fix that.'

I snapped, 'No shit, Sherlock. Why don't you just leave me here to rot?'

His eyes darkened and he glared at me. 'I don't know. Be polite before I change my mind about that.'

I looked away, not saying anything, as the door closed and locked. The light was on now, and I looked around. The room was quite empty, except for an assortment of blood stains everywhere and an odd contraption that looked like it was for restraining, or rape.

(A/N: You know those torture devices in the Middle Ages -I think- that people used to pull people's limbs off with a wheel thing? Or the thing where the laser goes up from the bottom to burn someone one in half? Yeah, like that, except without a wheel or laser.)

I crawled closer to the device, carefully looking it over with some interest. I couldn't escape with it. I couldn't kill myself with it. There was no way I could tackle the skinny bastard myself.

Conclusion: device was pointless. Avoid it in the future for possible beatings and/or rape.

I sat in the room for a while, when Nny finally returned, bandages, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls- etc. Medical supplies in general.

He pointed to the contraption. 'Lie on that.'

A strike of fear shot through me. I couldn't just willingly restrain myself. But what if it let me survive? With a resigned snort, I managed to drag myself to lie on the contraption.

'Do tell me how painful it is after. I like knowing.'

'You're a sick bastard.'

'I know.'

He grabbed my arm none too lightly and snapped it into the shackle on the machine. The rest of my limbs were free, so I lay thinking of ways to fight him if he tried to attack or rape me.

As I lay there, he hummed as he worked about my arm. He stitched it and I screamed somewhat while he did that until he duct-taped over my mouth. After that, if I screamed, he'd rip the tape off, insert blood and what tasted like vomit, and cover over my mouth again so that I couldn't swallow nor spit.

Since I'm retarded and can't get a hint, I struggled wildly and he stabbed me in the arm with the needle.

After that, if I struggled, he'd brandish a knife and cut a score in my arm. I stopped screaming.

He poured rubbing alcohol on after that, which wasn't as painful as the deep cuts in my arm, which he poured that on too.

Then, he bandaged my arm to the point I was almost half-mummy. It would be useless for quite a while, it appeared, as the bandage was stiff enough to keep me from most movements.

After that, he motioned for me to come with him. I wouldn't bother telling him that my blood returning would take a couple days, so I just stumbled to my feet after he unclipped the shackle and followed him best I could with the room spinning wildly.

'So what is it you wanted to show me?' I said, rubbing my temples and hissing irritably through my teeth at the throbbing pain that danced through my body.

'I want you to see someone.' That couldn't be good.

He opened a door, not waiting for me. I stumbled through, holding my head as dizziness had a party with my mind.

When I finally looked up, I was sure loss of blood was making me hallucinate. All the people who'd been dicks in my high school were in this room.

'Have you been… Following me?'

Nny turned and gave me his dark-inexpressive-what-the-fuck look. 'No. I don't do that. I'm assuming you know these people? I just found this room not long ago, and I wanted to see what you thought of these lovely contraptions.'

'They're… Evil.'

'The boys? Yes, quite. They were all in a group when they decided it would be amusing to irritate me whenever they saw me.'

His pupils dilated, and he began grinning strangely. He cackled evilly.

'So I caught them all! Now they're here, right here, and will never escape!'

He stepped over to one of the guys and grinned in his face. 'Where's your friends now? You can't push me around as soon as I cut your hands off!'

He picked up a knife from the floor and slashed the boy's hands off. The guy screamed in pain, then shrieked at me, 'HELP ME, YOU RETARDED BITCH! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING JUST STANDING THERE? !'

I was in shock, watching his wrist stumps spurting blood and the hands twitching on the floor.

Johnny's pupils were still dilated, and he danced around the room, slashing up various boys and a few girls with glee, laughing maniacally as blood began to stain the whole floor, splattering onto the walls and getting mostly on, of course, Nny.

I unfroze slightly and managed to fall to my knees, cutting them up somewhat on the rough floor. I couldn't throw up, I couldn't scream, I couldn't cry. I could merely watch as all the people I hated most were killed.

Suddenly, Nny reached a certain person, and I moved. My lips formed words.

'Wait a second, Johnny.'

He glared at me over his shoulder, his curved sword-knives already in position to mutilate this particular person.

I stumbled open, as this particular dark-haired person's wide eyes grew wider than I could ever believe possible.

I was almost nose-to-nose with the particular subject.

'Hello, Lamar.'

He looked around. 'You gotta help me get out! They're- they're all dying! He's going to kill me!'

I smirked, as I sensed Nny's irritated tension grow.

'I've waited a long time for this,' I said.

I turned to Nny, absolutely sure of what horror I was about to commit.

'I want you to release him.'

'No.'

I sighed. 'This will be less fun.'

I picked up a baseball bat, tilted awkwardly in my left hand as I was right-handed and that arm was useless for a while longer yet.

I didn't break Lamar's locks off- hell no, this boy was responsible for all of my clinical depression.

I grinned and laughed evilly like Nny had.

'You deserve this, you son of a bitch. You can feel outside what I felt inside.'

I gave him the first bash across the head, and turned to glare at Nny, who was giving me an absolutely shocked look, his eyes wide with dark, sketchy circles around them. I guess his prisoners had never come across their worst enemy before.

Lamar's face was bloodied, with a large split on his cheek visible, dripping blood. He struggled in his restraints, and I laughed.

'Oh, no, we won't kill you. We're gonna have a little fun.'

Nny stepped in, and interrupted me. 'I actually do plan on killing him.'

'Not you. Someone else.'

'Who?'

I tapped my head and smirked. 'Inner voice. I'm a little crazy, and this fucker let everyone know after he broke off our engagement to go to a cheap-trash whore. He's the cause of my angst.'

I turned back to him, a fake pleasant smile on my face. I bashed his head around four or five more times, then said sweetly, 'Welcome to hell. Have a nice stay.'

…

[So yeah. First JHTM fic… Not very good. Please pardon me for the utter shittiness of this. This was me taking some real-life angst about a BF (this isn't actually what happened, just embellished by… not a lot) and putting it into actions. Anyways, from now on, it will be about our heroine learning to know our not-so-heroic hero.]