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They say the first hit is the worst.
Whoever said that has never been beaten to within an inch of their life with a crowbar.
The first hit catches you by surprise, sending you stumbling backwards.
By the second hit you're expecting it. Your whole body tenses in anticipation, even though you know that's the worst thing to do.
You grit your teeth and ride the wave of pain from the third hit with barely a sound.
The fourth hit echoes with the sound of broken ribs, forcing an agonised scream from your lips.
The wall is broken; the brave front you've been putting up crumbles into pain and fear.
You wonder if anyone's going to help you - if your dark knight will be able to save you this time.
But even your thoughts give way to the pain.
Sadistic laughter sends chills though your spine as you fall helplessly to the floor.
But you still try to get up, refusing to believe that this is the really the end.
You've lost count of how many bones are broken, and every hit seems to strike a serious injury.
But you still believe that he'll come and save you... Like he always has.
It's the only thing that stops you from giving in to the blackness threatening to take over your mind.
The crowbar swings down towards your head and you're powerless to stop it.
For a moment it seems like it's over. The darkness takes you and you feel yourself slipping.
You feel your eyes opening a minute later. You're still alive, but hope is slipping away. Your whole body is numb and you barely register the painful blows anymore.
Why hasn't he come yet? He's always been there to save you.
The crowbar falls to the floor beside you. The sound seems to get louder as it echoes through your aching head.
The white face of your enemy is no longer smiling; he looks bored and disappointed. A split second later he aims a sharp kick to your stomach.
Your body doubles up, trying desperately to get oxygen to your aching lungs.
He laughs again: that chilling, sadistic laugh that you know you'll never get out of your head.
He's talking but you don't register the sound of his voice, just the mocking smirk that accompanies it.
You watch as he walks away, still taunting you as he goes.
Once the door is closed you try to get up. It takes time, but you eventually manage to drag yourself along the wall towards the door.
Locked. You're not surprised, but you had to try.
Using what little strength you have left, you turn to find another door on the opposite side of the warehouse.
As you drag your broken body towards the door you think you can hear a clicking sound.
It doesn't matter; this is your only hope of escape.
The image of your dark knight fighting with your attacker in your mind is the only thing giving you the strength to carry on.
As you reach for the door your legs collapse beneath you, no longer able to support your weight.
You manage to catch the handle as you fall, revealing the small room beyond.
A small window is left half-open and swinging from the wind outside, but that's not what you focus on as you force your eyes open.
You instantly recognise the device that's counting down in front of you.
You notice the window, but know that there's no time to escape in your condition.
1 minute, 10 seconds.
You close your eyes and accept your fate.
He's not coming.
60 seconds.
The slow ticking of the bomb seems to lull you into a calm surrender.
You always thought that he'd be there to save you.
52 seconds.
Even if he'd tried to save you now, it was too late.
There's no chance of survival this close to the bomb.
40 seconds
And for some reason you smile.
You always knew that this life was dangerous.
32 seconds
When you die, he'll take your murderer with you.
20 seconds.
Your death will save thousands of lives.
15 seconds.
Does he even know you're about to die?
7 seconds.
Did he even try to save you?
3 seconds.
Your death will save lives.
1 second.
Your death will be worth it.
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