Kenny's POV

My sense of smell is the first to return. Wherever I am smells awful. Like old garbage, mold, and, and some unidentified smell. Oh man I hope it's not blood.

Hearings next. It's silent besides my breathing and the dripping of water.

Feeling came third. The walls are cold and the floor is wet. I feel around under my fingers there's a cold sticking substance under them. Yep, that's Blood. Great, I don't even get to go to my job before getting kidnapped. FANTASTIC.

I finally have enough strength to open my eyes. The room is small and incredibly dark. The only light comes from one light bulb in the ceiling that looks ready to burn out. Then it did. Just my luck.

So I am currently sitting in a dark, smelly, blood filled room. What an amazing trip to New York.

"Hey sleeping beauty." I whip my head to the side to see my kidnapper sitting in a chair besides me. My eyes pop, do I make a sarcastic remark, or do I show my fear? I decide with a mix of both since I can't conceal my shaking. I part my lips and let a grow escape my mouth. It wasn't very loud but it showed my anger.

"Woah. Cool I got a feisty one this time. You'll be a lot more fun than the other." He says mainly to himself.

"W- what do you want with me." I say. Keeping my scared stutter mostly under control. The man smiled. I guess he likes explaining why he kidnapped teens.

"Well you see my pretty little friend. I need servants. Since they're too expensive to buy I use fear." He smiled. But what seemed weird is that his smile wasn't creepy it was more friendly then anything. That creeped me out more then anything. "So when I saw you my beautiful friend I just had to have you."

I look up at him, meeting his dark eyes. "Will I ever be able to go home?" He smiled yet again. HIS SMILING WAS STARTING TO MAKE EXTREMELY ANGRY!

"Sorry kiddo. You stay here until retirement. BUT you won't be alone. Everyone here has a partner. And I have the perfect one for you." Could this get any weirder. Like seriously I had the perfect life. Never any bullies, kind parents, tons of friends. SO WHY THE HECK AM I BEING KIDNAPPED!

I let out a shaky breathe. I truly wouldn't be surprised if he told me I had to dress up as a monkey when I did my work. The man cleared his throat, about to talk again.

"Well child. I have to do the interview before I give you the job." He walked towards me and grabbed my wrist. He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of who knows where and put them around my wrists. He pulled me up to a hook just taller then my arms length so my legs dangled. He walks out of the room. I attempted to jump off, but it was impossible. I hang limply awaiting for whatever was about to happen. "Please don't be torture. Please don't be torture. Please don't be torture. Please don't be torture."

The man, I'm gonna call him Mr. Evil Dude, came back in with what looked like a stamper and knives. Great I'm about to be tortured. Just great.

Mr. Evil Dude brings the cart holding my torture tools towards me. He looks up at me and says, "Don't worry I won't leave you to bad. I just need to give you a taste of what'll happen if you do something bad. But first you need to be branded." Branded? That sounding like it was gonna hurt. I mentally prepare myself for pain.

The man grabs the stamper which was glowing red with heat and moves it to my left pec. He lifts my shirt up and presses it hard against my bare skin. The pain is 100% awful. I bite my tongue and my eyes well up with tears. Mr. Evil Dude eventually takes the hot object away from my skin. It says 'Property of Mister Butler' was his last name butler?

"You know why the cops call me mister Butler?" He asks. I shake my head. "Well whenever one of my servants gets to old I kill them in their uniform.  A Butler uniform." His smile was know dark and twisted. What was wrong with this dude?

"Well this won't hurt nearly as bad as when you fail me. This'll be like 1/4 if the pain. And I never do it on the face, can't ruin that beauty." He pats my cheek. He grabs a knife of the cart and makes a deep cut in my thigh. I successfully hold back a scream but a tear slips. He cuts my leg again. And again. He finished making the cuts on my leg after 5. They're not deep enough to kill me. But mother trucker those things hurt. He quickly grabs a roll of bandages and puts it around them. Then he moves to my torso. He cuts my shirt in half and years it off. I put a frown on my face. I loved that shirt. But he makes 11 deep cuts. Again not deep enough to kill. But far enough to leave a scar. I look down at the bloody mess and see he wrote number 075. Aww come on that not even a cool number. Could I at least be 007 or something. He wiped the dripping blood of my chest. And sees the finish product. He nodded his head approvingly. Before moving to my arms. He only makes cuts on my upper arm. But they still hurt. I guess he hits a muscle or something because I couldn't contain my scream.

"Wow you sing like an angel." Mr. Evil Dude refers to my scream. This dude is 3 shades of weird, 2 colors of creepy, and a whole palette of crazy.

After about 7 cuts on each arm, he bandages them up. I'm pretty drained from the blood loss. To exhausted to try and move again. I had enough strength to move my head and look at him. Now if I said what I wanted to say to the man he'd probably kill me on the spot. So I say, "What do I call you?" I sounded like a kicked puppy. It was so pathetic Uhhhh.

The man's ultra creepy smile is plastered back on his face. "Call me Master number 75." He takes me off my hook and sits me on the ground. He waves goodbye and walks about the door. I heard it lock. Darn there goes my escape plan. I have absolutely no strength left in me. So all I do is pray someone'll find me before it's too late. I close my eyes and sleep.

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