Horace's eyes widened in horror, his voice coming out in a frantic whisper. "No, no, please… no," he begged, his body shaking with fear.
But Noah didn't care. Without a word, he struck Horace hard, knocking him unconscious once more.
The room fell silent, except for Noah's calm breaths.
He moved slowly, tying a gag around Horace's mouth to stifle any cries of pain.
Once done, Noah stood over Horace's limp form.
Noah lifted his foot slowly, almost casually, as if there was no rush, no urgency. His eyes locked onto Horace's knee, the purpose of breaking it clear in his mind as if it was nothing significant.
The room seemed to narrow, the walls pressing in on them as Noah's boot hovered above the joint.
The air was thick, the silence unbearable.
Then, with a swift, brutal motion, Noah brought his foot down.
"CRACK."
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up!