Most experiences are one in a lifetime. They can be moments of unbridled joy, or unbearable sadness. We all at one time or another share experiences differently. But then there are those who want the experience of being close to the edge, seeing the white light in front of them as they debate whether it’s the gates of heaven or the light of a hospital room. Waking them up from something unfortunate. They want a thrill rush. Some can find it in the form of doing things they never even thought about doing. Then there are the unfortunate souls. That visit Torture Manor.
Build as being a survival horror boot camp experience. This run down house specialises in terrorizing and torturing their guests on an almost illegal level. Many people have written in articles online and in interviews about how it was the most horrific experience they have ever faced. Including an ex marine who claimed that being through intensive training on how to handle situations of extreme torment and torture, believed he was going to die after visiting this supposed halloween attraction.
One man even suffered a heart attack, that was considered at the Torture manor as “good stuff”. On the quiet suburban town outside of Dunning held in the massive basement area underground, is home to the master of ceremonies and un official expert in his field Reese Major. Reese who has had no military background or even any sadistic urges of his own involving the torture that he inflicts, is someone who he would consider himself as a “nice guy”.
A friendly face on the street. Helpful to his friends, loyal to his family. But his profession is ruining lives for those who seek the thrill of what near death is supposed to feel like. He’s a public persona for torture, filming the experiences of those who endure his torture house and even talking to them behind camera in drill sargent form of communication:
“LOOK AT ME YOU FUCKING MAGGOT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CRYING FOR?! WE’VE NOT EVEN STARTED ON YOU YET!.” This was said in the last video he put on line of a man dressed in a purple rabbit onesie, locked in compact cell, with cold water sprayed on him with Reese’s garden horse after force feeding and covering dog food over the unfortunate participant of the manor. And yet Reese is still a friendly face.
With over 26,000 waiting applicants, all paying from across the world regardless of across the country, Reese has made a fortune for himself by making people push the limits of what they think is they can manage. But he wasn’t without his controversies. Lawsuits have piled up time after time for Reese, even getting closed down by forces. However his own devil handled the details for him.
With a simple online waver that states before participants get approved to be part of the Torture Manor, they must sign there name on a text book online contract, that no matter what happens to them, what they go through is of there concent.
8 hours is all they have to endure. But through 8 hours of physical and mental torture for what Reese sees as fun, others feel its too much. If they leave early and say whatever the safe word they are given, they leave to a barrage of school boy bullying by Reese and his actor volunteers at Torture Manor, screaming as they drag them through the exit in the public of Reese’s front garden: “LOSERS! WOOSES! BABIES!.” All while Reese films them on his camera.
“Well that is another contestant who has lost at the Torture Manor. Think you have what it takes to survive the 8 hour installment of pain and suffering? Or are you as chicken shit as Bill? Fill out the form and for a total of £50, show us what your truly made of!” Reese smuggly says to the camera as he taunts Billy while promoting his business.
There is no denying Reese’s confidence in this ordeal. As for the participants, who get fingernails pulled out and teeth broken as well as leaving with bruises from head to foot. The worst thing that could happen to any of them is the emotional torture that Reese specializes in putting them through. Not just taunting the losers of the manor, but whichever participant stays on longer gets more to deal with.
“You know the whole world is watching you suffer right now. Is this how you wanted the world to see you? Weak? Pathetic? Crying in pain over a flesh wound? They know it’s your own fault. And you know they will have no sympathy for you.”
Reese’s words could be the worst of the torture anyone could face in the manor. But for him, it was what he felt was part and parcel with the job. And after doing it for 7 years at this point, he became a master of manipulation. But his empire was gonna come crashing down on him sooner than he thinks. All it took was for him to finish up for the day.
After another grizzly and gruleing session at torture manor in which a married couple had got there mouths superglued together so they couldnt scream, until eventually a torture was so painful they forced they lips through the dried in glue and screamed through a bloody mouth. The manor was closing for the day.
“You know 4 hours. You gotta hand it to that married couple. If they can survive this, their marriage is going to be as strong and solid as a rock” says Reese. He hands his 2 actors, small brown envelopes each. Thick wadded with the money from previous takens. Pay is extremely good when it comes to torture.
“What’s the arrangements for tomorrow? Any more group entries?” asks one of the actors wearing a clown mask. Who stores his money in his jeans he was wearing underneath a boiler suit covered in fake blood.
“Not until the end of next month. However the 3 person group we have tomorrow are twins and there best friend! We can inflict the same shit on one of them and have them think that the other person is getting it worse”
“That’s a great idea! Do you want me to pick up the chicken embryos for this one?” says the second volunteer actor. Who takes out his fake red blood coloured contact lense from his eyes and puts on his 70’s style designer glasses.
Most people when discussing torture, they would not be seen as mentally sound. Unless you were working at Torture Manor. Where even joking about who files the nails after they’ve pulled them out of someone is as normal to them as talking about the weather.
“Nah. We’ve still got some left over from the summer. I didn’t bother putting them in the fridge. That way they will rot better.” says Reese.
The discussion carries on as behind them in a giant industrial looking barrel that’s used for storing water and flammable liquid, a thud was heard coming from the inside. The hollow bang carried around the whole of the room. The men behind the manor turn around in shock at hearing the noise from the barrel.
“What was that?” asked one of the actors.
“It came from the barrel” Reese comforts. He makes his way over to the barrel. He pushes it over and falling out is a participant that the trio had clearly forgetting that they locked in there. Covered in brown stains and smelling stale from her own vomit and sweat.
“Oh god.” says one of the actors in a state of shock. “How long have you been in there?”
“How long ago was monday?” says the participant in a delirious manner.
“Fuck! We kept a participant hostage for 3 days and we totally forgot about it!” the actor says panicking.
“That’s it. We’re screwed.” the other actor adds to the already worrying situation. But as always Reese is as came as ever. Not panicking and looking down at the participant. When the idea comes to him.
“Actually wait. One of you. Hold the camera and point it at me.”
Reese helps the participant to her feet, though standing proved hard to her after she was forced to walk on broken glass. Pieces of the glass still looked stuck in her soles. But she got up straight and Reese put her arm around her. Not pulling her close because the smell coming of her made him green.
“Let me know when you start filming” Reese instructs.
The actor pushes a button on the camera and gives a thumbs up to Reese.
“Hey folks. I’m here to announce that we have our first ever Torture Manor winner! The brave and lucky…” he reaches down to her ear “…What’s your name again?”
“Megan?” says Megan as she tries to remember if that is her name as well.
“…Megan has survived some of the worst extremes we could put anyone through and came out to be a supreme champion and the first to walk away from the full experience of the Torture Manor. Let’s give it up for Megan!” says Reese through a false enthusiasm.
He starts to clap his hands rapidly while visually encouraging the actors and Megan to join in with the applause. But Megan can’t move her hands because they were still tied up in cable ties. After taking a polaroid picture with the trio behind torture manor and a crudley made tshirt saying “I beat the manor” and a 25% off food certificate, Megan was sent home with no complaints coming from her.
Close calls like that were a rarity at the Torture Manor.
After sending his actors away, Reese locks up his basement dwelling haunted house and makes his way back to his home. With its clean and pristine living room and kitchen all matching a beautiful cream colour and the latest in home entertainment, you would never expect a man like this to live in a house as luxurious as that of man who’s self employed job is to torture people.
He goes to the kitchen to grab himself a bottle of whiskey and a can of coke. Then makes his way to the office. In the center of his room is something that resembles a CCTV Operator office. 3 large monitors take up the desk space.
One monitor is for his editing of the footage that he caught from the Torture Manor, which if not edited properly would look like the footage of a snuff movie, only serial killers could view this and smile.
Another monitor had his emails and long list spreadsheet of days available for a participant for taking part in the manor. And the final monitor had the website that he would update daily with the news and videos made from the manor that day. He’s a busy man when he’s not torturing the profit out of someone.
He gets to work as normal while the video footage of a man screaming through getting a spanner put in his mouth, while Reese can be heard shouting “IF YOU DON’T STOP SCREAMING, WE’RE TAKING A TOOTH!” repeatedly over and over again. He treats himself by ordering some chinese food online, while his phone starts ringing.
“Hello Reese Major of Torture Manor. Your pain is our pleasure” he answers the phone is his business man style of speaking.
Over the phone an agitated angry elder gentleman starts talking through heavy breaths, as though even being on the phone to Reese is enough to make him angry. “You sick twisted fuck! How dare you profit from doing this to people?!”.
Reese is unscaved by this call. It’s not his first call complaint he has received and he knows it won’t be the last.
“Why yes. What seems to be bothering you sir?” he says calmly. Which was more convincing than his enthusiasm.
“My son was part of your haunted disgrace and has came back with a black eye and severe burns on his legs and chest. He told me you sick bastards used a blowtorch on him.” the man says down the phone now quivering in rage.
“Well sir, what he has appeared to have left out to you is that before he even stepped foot into our manor, he signed a contract that states that we have the right and consent from him which he signed himself that we can do whatever we want to him”.
Reese begins to scroll through his emails to find the one email from this participant that states his worst fear is to be burned alive. But this email is so far back is reaching the 100 mark past of sent mail.
“What’s your sons name again?” asks Reese with genuine intrigue.
“Patrick Mckinnely. That doesn’t excuse you giving him burns. He’s finding it hard for him to breathe and sit down.” At the point, Reese finds the email.
“Ah ha!. There it is. Plus his email states he’s afraid of fire. And he also signed in that contract that we were allowed to use his worst fear against him. I wouldn’t take it up with me Mr. Mckinnely I would take it up with your son. Have a nice day now, bye bye”.
Reese hangs up the phone just as Mr. Mckinnely was in mid flow of anger. Just as he hangs up his phone it rings again. This time it’s a more familiar voice and more comforting to Reese’s ears.
“Reese. It’s Nigel. Great news. More magazines are claiming you are the worst haunted house attraction in the world. Some are even declaring at petition to stop you from running the manor”. Says Nigel with pride and confidence a business manager with a faux degree in law would have in this get rich without trying scheme. Reese smiles gleefully down the other end of the phone.
“Ha ha. Fantastic. Just what I want from these fucking eggshells. What was it you said when we started this? “Ain’t no such thing as bad press?”. I bet they left our website down the bottom of the page as well.”
Reese had seen his fair share of articles written about him making him about being a sadist and a low life. But he thrived on these articles. This was his starting role feature that he was getting. Never before had he been a story of a magazine or a newspaper.
“I’ve sent you the links to the article’s now. I’ve put them in an order of the ones I think are the best to the least said about you.” says Nigel.
At that moment Reese’s computer makes a notification sound. He turns to check the he now has 3 new emails waiting for him. One from Nigel, one from someone who is wanting to take part at the torture manor with the subject heading “Do your worst”. Which wasn’t the first time Reese saw that subject heading.
But the last email was marked important, with no subject heading or even saying who sent the email to him at all. It was out of all the emails Reese got sent, the one that caught his attention first. He opened up the mail and found a file attachment link in the mail.
His curiosity was getting the better of him at this point. He opened it up to find an image of what appears to be a CCTV close up image of a female figure. But her eyes were bright white and caused a flare effect in the image, and her mouth was doing the exact same thing. She blended almost perfectly into the night background. As if an outline was drawn around her making her appear as if she was made from the night itself.
“What the?-Nigel did you send me this too?” asks Reese.
“Sent you what? I just sent the article links” confirms Nigel in confusion to what Reese is on about.
“You didn’t send me any weird pictures or anything did you?”
“No. What are you talking about?”
“Hold on-” Reese points his phone to the picture on the screen. Takes a picture of it and sends it to Nigel.
“Did you get it?it’s like some kind of tv glitch or-” The image starts flickering back and forth over and over again. The images then appears on all his monitors overtaken what was originally there. He tries moving his mouse around the screens and nothing appears.
“-aww for fuck sake!. It’s a virus.” Reese’s disappointment travels down the phone to Nigel. “ Could you take over the server for the website and let people who visit the site know we’re having technical difficulties?”
“No problem. How long do you think this will last?” asks Nigel.
“I don’t know. I’ll try and sort it out now. I’ll call you if anything changes. Speak to you soon” Reese hangs up the phone and stares up at his frozen monitors still with that image frozen on it. Starting at him with the flared up eyes.
The silence and boredom of his computer being broken got the better of him. He makes his way downstairs and into his living room, to try and take his mind off the image that stared at him and broke down his work. He sits down on his leather sofa, turns on his TV to turn off his head. His phone rings again of another unknown number.
“Hello Reese Major of Torture Manor. Your pain is our pleasure” as he knew this was going to be another complaint call.
“You’re a sick twisted piece of shit!” says a female voice down the other end of the phone. Just as she starts complaining, Reese’s doorbell starts ringing.
“Ahh yes hello. How may I help you this evening? Now I must point out to you we are having technical difficulties at the moment so we may not be able to help you at this present moment.” Reese opens the door to the delivery man who hands him his takeaway meal in a blue plastic bag.
“Don’t give me that shit. You assholes tortured my fiance. He’s still not recovered from what you put him through.”
Reese makes his way to the kitchen with his takeaway in his hand. He takes a fork out the drawer of the kitchen and starts eating his meal over the phone.
“Well my dear as it states in the contract, he signed up to have whatever happened to him on his consent so it’s really him you should be complaining to.” Reese with his mouthful still able to say his lines like an actor in a Shakespere play.
“So he signed up to have a chicken embryo forced down his throat, and then when he vomited it up you forced fed him his own vomit, despite the fact he’s got a phobia of vomit?” says the woman over the phone in disgust.
“Like I say madame. He signed up for it. It’s all part of the torture manor expe-” As he took another mouthful of the takeaway, it suddenly tasted awful. Disgusting. Like something that had already been eaten before. He looked at his fork and staring back at him on the end of the fork was the head of what could have been a chick. With half its head bitten off.
In disgust he threw his fork into the takeaway box. He looked into the box to find the fork floating in what appears to be a takeaway box, filled with vomit. Reese horrified by this turns to his kitchen sink and starts throwing up immediately.
“Hello? Is what I’m describing disgusting even for you?” says the girl over the phone. “Or have you came to your senses and realised how sick you really are?”
Reese picks up the phone after getting his breath back. “You know what fuck this. You shouldn’t have let him come here in the first place you inconsiderate bitch!”.
“Wow. You really are scum. You’ll be hearing from my solicitor”.
The phone hangs up on Reese. He picks up his takeaway and throws it against the wall. It turns back into whatever takeaway he was eating. Noodles and mushrooms start falling from the wall and landing on his kitchen floor.
Confused by this, Reese went back to the living room, and tried again to distract himself. As he watches the news, the signal starts to flicker. Like what happened with his computer earlier. The blue screen on his TV appeared to then the image that he saw before his computer crashed down. Shocked by this, he tried changing the channel to find something else. But all the channels had the same exact image.
“What the hell is going on?”. He had no time to think. His phone rang again with another unknown number.
“Hello Torture Manor.” said Reese still confused of what’s going on.
“Is this the sick bastard who abused and beat up my little brother?” another angry voice down the phone. Reese would normally be prepared for these calls but the state of confusion of what was happening in his house left his mind to go elsewhere.
“Yeah probably- I mean..What did you say?” he asked with actual sincerity.
“Oh you think this is a fucking joke? My brother has a black eye and a broken nose because of you sick fucks.”
“Sir, with all do respect. This is what he signed up for. And we only delivered what he was going to expect.” said Reese. Forgetting his usual script for complaints that he got so used to using before.
His nose started to feel like it was moving out of place. He hadn’t felt anything like this before. To try and feel what was going on, Reese put his hand on his nose, only for it to break in his hand. The crack was audible down the phone.
“What was that?” shouts the complainer.
“I think my nose is broken” said Reese looking at the blood in the palm of his hand.
“Serves you right you fucking sadist.” The complainer hung up immediately after.
Reese’s left eye began to see things in a blur. The more he tried to widen his eye the more it got harder to see. He tried to widen his eyelid with his thumb and forefinger. But noticed it was painful for him to even touch.
To see the problem he turned his phone camera to see what the problem was. He looked at his reflection staring back at him on his phone screen and saw a massive black eye that hadn’t been there before. It was as if he got a left hook from Tyson.
Reese then ran to the bathroom dropping his phone on his living room couch. He made his way there only to look for plasters or bandages of any kind to cover his nose and hopefully stop the bleeding. All he had in the first aid kit was the bandages and plasters used for minor injuries. I must have used them all on the guests he thought to himself.
Just then his phone rang again. Making his way downstairs, he saw his phone was flashing with another unknown number. Getting a large number of calling complaints was nothing new to Reese. But now suddenly he was nervous about taking the calls. As if the calls were something coming back to haunt him.
“Hello?”
“Is this the place that ripped my daughters finger nails out of her hands and laughed at her while they done it?” another complaint from an angry mother.
“We did what?” Reese said shocked to remember.
“Don’t fake that you don’t remember. My daughter’s hands look awful because of what you sick bastards did for money”. Reese’s hands started to clench in pain. This wasn’t doing it. Like something else forcing his hands to lose control.
“Hold on-” Reese lost the strength of his hands. He pushed his phone onto loudspeaker so he could try and free his hands from whatever had a grip on them. “-ok sorry about tha-”.
A sharp needling pain shot up through him as he saw his fingernails getting ripped away from him. The tips of his fingers started dripping with blood falling from his hands.
“I don’t know what you bastards think you’re doing to poor innocent people. I hope you all burn in hell.” The complainer hangs up.
Reese begins to think to himself that something is causing him to go through all that he put others through in his house. He stared up at the TV screen on his wall which still had the image of the filtered eyed woman staring at him.
“Your doing this. Aren’t you? You’re the one who’s putting me through all this, aren’t you?..Well fuck you!”. He picked up his phone and threw it at the screen. The screen cracked and fell off the wall and onto the floor. Breaking instantly on the ground. However his phone stayed in tacked.
It caught his surprise when it started ringing again. He walked over to the broken TV lifted up the flat surface to find the phone underneath. Still working, and ringing.
He picks the phone up covering it in the blood of his fingertips. He holds it up to his nose being the only way he can turn on the loudspeaker. Now starting to dread whatever phone call he gets.
“Hello?”
“Yo what the fuck did you do to my girlfriend?”. Reese started to think to himself of possibly the worst thing he could have done to a person but he’s done so much to so many people he felt clueless.
“Listen if it is anything severe…we’ll cover the costs for any help that is needed” said Reese with his tone coming across desperate.
“I should say you do. She can’t even walk. I had to carry her to the toilet. Did you seriously make her walk on nails and broken glass barefoot?” Reese remembered.
“Ok…We did. But I promise you that we can help with any treatment needed all you need to is-”. Reese’s feet started to get piercing pain so bad he fell to the floor. Through pain and sweat Reese struggled to take off his shoes and socks. He looks down to see his feet covered in shards of broken glass sticking out of his soles and tops of his feet.
He tried to pull the glass out but the more he tried the glass wedged itself deeper and deeper into his foot. He picked himself up onto his couch, holding on just so he could stand up.
“Expect an email for our money asshole”.
This was all getting too much for Reese. He staggered his way downstairs into the basement into the torture manor. He looks into the room of what he brought to people who signed up for all of this. It no longer to him seems like a cash grab, the regret of what he created washes over him along with pain he’s going through.
Looking entirely through his torture manor, he staggers out while the broken glass pushes more into the heels of his feet, grabbing onto the railing of the basement stairs as he makes his way up back to the living room.
Reese now overcome with guilt and suffering phones Nigel to sort out this problem once and for all.
“Hey Nigel…It’s me”
“Ahh hey Reese. Is the problem solved?”
“No…Cancel the site. Cancel all the incoming requests. I’m shutting the manor down.” The end of the phone goes quiet on Reese. Dead silence as there’s no response from Nigel.
“Hello?..Nigel?” Reese holds. The response he got wasn’t one he wanted.
“You sick twisted bastard. You should burn in hell for the things you do”. Reese never heard the phone ring or even know he was getting another call. “How could you all these awful things and think about what you’re doing is entertaining? My daughter is…” Reese cuts off the complaint in tears.
“I know I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just thought I was doing something different, something unique. But I’m just fucked up. I need help. And I will help everyone who came to my house and needs help. Put me on to your daughter.” Reese pleads over the phone. It’s the most genuine he has ever sounded to anyone outside of Nigel and the actors.
“…You’re too late you miserable prick. She’s dead”
This was the first and last time Reese has ever heard this over the phone.
“What?” said Reese stunned.
“She killed herself. The fact you locked her in a barrel for 3 days and didn’t even know about it sent her over the edge. She’s dead all because of you. I hope you rot in hell for this.”
The phone hung up on Reese. He looked down at his forearms as they began to burst down the center, split and pull apart from each other. Blood started to jet out of both wounds in the arms. All Reese could do at this moment was scream.
It’s a new day. Knocking can be heard from the manor’s front door. After a few failed attempts at getting Reese’s attention his phone starts ringing. Reese’s phone was ringing in the curled up hand of Reese who lied on his living room floor, pale and dried up from all the blood that seeped out of his arms. It took days before anyone would even find him. Only one thing was for certain. Reese Major was just another failed attempt at surviving torture manor.