Keep Fighting

The bleeding had stopped and the pain had subsided. It seemed that John's soul alone could sustain him in this hellish world. Behind him he heard heavy footsteps. Without knowing how, he was certain that it was the wax-faced Cenobite he'd seen earlier. Again, he felt the rage beginning to build within him. At first it was like a tiny but intensely hot pinprick, which grew and grew until the anger was consuming his every thought.

John put a foot between him and the ground and thrust his body upward, turning as he went. His fist caught the creature square in the mouth, sending blackened teeth flying through the stagnant air. He followed up with another, and another, and another.

"Monster! I saw what you did!" he yelled, pouncing on it as it staggered back.

The sheer weight of his body was enough to drag the Cenobite to the ground, where he continued his ****. Anyone watching might have cheered him on at first, but would have surely looked away in disgust as the one-sided conflict reached it's bloody conclusion. In the end, all that remained was a bloody pulp of broken bones and ruptured internal organs.

And as he stood looking down at it, thick black blood dripping from his fists, he heard a voice. It was the Cenobite's victim, still tied down to its **** table.

"Hhhh.... elp me....," the man said, blood gurgling as he spoke.

John entered the room and was immediately sickened. The musty scent of decay was so thick that he could taste it in the air and it nearly made him vomit.

"I'm sorry friend. I... fear that all I can offer you is a quick ****," John heard himself say.

"Thank god," he said, turning his one remaining eye skyward. "Be... wwwware... Alastair will... come ffffor you."

The man then closed his eye in anticipation of the only escape John could offer him.