Acceptance

I hear noises. They're low, moans, whispers, shuffling. My eyes won't open properly, and my head feels like it's full of wool. My arms feel heavy. No, not heavy, tied down. I feel cold stone under my back.

The noises are louder now. People all around me, in white robes, hoods hiding their faces, chanting and swaying from side to side. The air is thick with smoke, and as I regain conciousness the smell of it fills my mouth and nostrils, making me retch.

Realisation dawns. I'm tied to an altar and I feel my bare back sticking to the stone with my own sweat. A rising terror clenches my stomach. I think I'm going to be sick.

From the circle, one person steps forward at my side, pulling back his hood. Still chanting with the rest, He smiles at me excitedly and I recognise the short blonde hair and hazel eyes. I can't believe this is really happening to me. Oh, God, is this really happening to me?

He pulls aside his robe and draws a large, ornate knife. The tip is dripping fresh blood and I realise with horror that it is my own; my torso is covered in swirls and whorls, symbols of demonic origin. He steps forward again and is now at my side.

Screaming the chant, he raises the dagger and plunges it into my chest. Agony explodes through me and he tears open my body, snapping ribs, carving at arteries and ripping out my heart. He cuts his arm and pours green blood into the cavity in my chest, and is it closes he cuts my restraints and pulls me into a seated position.

As the pain sears through my head he leans forward and whispers into my ear.

"Welcome to the fold. Brother."