Bound to Fear

Andrew’s eyes fluttered open, and pain lanced through his skull like a hot needle. Blinking away the haze, he looked around, trying to make sense of the cold metal pressing against his body. His hands, feet, and chest were bound tight, and a thick leather strap bit into his forehead, locking him in place. The stale air felt heavy with the tang of sweat and metal. It didn’t take long to recognize where he was: he was strapped to an electric chair.

Dread swelled inside him, so intense he could barely draw a breath. The single light above him flickered, casting sickly yellow beams around the room. Shadows danced at the edge of his vision, twisting into strange shapes. Then, a voice emerged from somewhere beyond the light, familiar but eerie.

“Do you remember, Andrew?” The voice was cold, smooth, and laced with something deeply unsettling.

Andrew’s stomach twisted. “Who…who are you? Why am I here?” His voice cracked, sounding small and broken in the empty room.

The voice chuckled, low and mocking. “You know why you’re here. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Fragments of memory slid into place, memories he’d tried to bury—faces he wanted to forget, people he’d left behind, people he’d wronged. The memory of a hit-and-run, of fists connecting in drunken brawls, of threats whispered to settle debts. Memories he thought he’d pushed deep down but now returned, sharper and more terrible than ever.

“I…I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, as if saying it out loud might absolve him.

“Intentions mean nothing here, Andrew,” the voice murmured, softer now, almost disappointed. “What matters are the scars you left behind.”

The light above him pulsed once, then dimmed, leaving Andrew in near-darkness. Then, shapes began to take form in the shadows—figures, barely human, grotesque and twisted, emerging with hollow eyes fixed on him. His breath hitched as they drew closer, stepping into the weak light. Their faces were bloated and gray, skin torn and broken, with eyes that stared at him with a hatred so fierce it seared into his soul.

“Andrew,” one of them croaked. The voice was rough, damaged, and Andrew felt his chest tighten as he recognized the man he’d once left lying in the street, bleeding and broken.

“I waited,” the ghostly figure rasped, coming closer, his mangled body lurching with each step. “I waited for someone to help, but no one came. You left me.”

Andrew tugged at the straps, the leather cutting into his wrists, but the chair held him firmly.

“Please,” he begged, “I didn’t know—”

The man’s bloated lips twisted into a grin that exposed teeth rotted down to dark stubs. “You didn’t know,” he repeated, mocking, his voice a guttural snarl. “Didn’t you hear me screaming?”

Another figure moved forward, a woman with part of her skull exposed, half her face melted away, staring at him with hollow, accusing eyes.

“Remember what you said to me? When I begged for mercy? You laughed.”

Andrew shrank back, his muscles rigid with fear. “No…I didn’t… Please, I swear…”

Her charred fingers reached out, brushing against his cheek, and he felt a burn there as though her touch had left a mark. He gasped, feeling his skin blistering, even though her hand was barely more than bone.

The air grew thick and sour with the stench of rot and smoldering flesh. The chair began to hum, a low, sinister vibration that sent a cold spike of terror through him.

“Please, let me go! I’ll change, I’ll—”

Another figure lurched forward, a child with wide, blackened eyes, his small hand reaching out toward Andrew. The boy’s face contorted, mouth opening in a silent scream that echoed in Andrew’s head like nails scraping against glass. He couldn’t bear to look, but he couldn’t turn away either.

The humming intensified, building into a pulsing growl, and then, with a snap like thunder, the first jolt hit him.

His body seized, every nerve firing at once as the electricity poured through him, burning deep into his bones. His screams merged with the mocking laughter of the figures around him, his body jerking as if it were trying to tear itself free from the inside out. He felt his skin blistering, the heat consuming him, yet his mind remained aware, trapped in the agony.

In between the jolts, he saw the specters drawing closer, their eyes glowing with malice, whispering his name, reminding him of every sin, every cruelty. Another surge hit, longer, sharper, and he could feel his own heart slamming painfully in his chest, his muscles pulling taut against the restraints.

The boy’s voice echoed in his mind, so close it felt like he was inside his own head. "Daddy…” it whispered, soft and accusing.

Andrew’s eyes shot open, and he saw the boy again, his face darkened, eyes empty pits that stared into Andrew’s soul. The boy’s mouth opened in a smile that stretched too wide, a smile full of grief and betrayal.

“No…no, not you…” Andrew choked out, but his voice was fading, and his vision grew hazy as another surge ripped through his body. Every nerve screamed, his mind torn apart by the agony.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, the current stopped, and the light above him flickered one last time before plunging him into darkness. The figures faded, one by one, but their accusing eyes lingered, burned into his memory.

Andrew’s body lay slumped in the chair, smoke rising from his singed skin, his eyes open and lifeless, frozen in a final expression of terror. And in the empty silence, a faint voice lingered, echoing through the darkness like a final judgment.

“You remember now.”