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The Job




“So what shall we cut off next? An ear? Your big toe? Maybe I’ll just slice out your tongue so I don’t have to listen to your whiny sniveling any more?”

I test the restraints again as the maniac walks across the room to pick out yet another tool from his surgical kit, but there’s no way I can escape. He hums to himself as he lightly runs his fingers along each torture device, taking his time to make his selection.

“Ah the scalpel! Oh we can have some fun with this!”

He wraps his hand around my throat – it feels like he’s crushing my trachea. Every muscle in my body tenses as he sticks the instrument into my eye. The pain is incredible. He laughs out loud to himself, like some kind of super villain, as he twists and turns the pointed object and scrambles the inside of my socket.

After what feels like minutes he pulls the thing from my face and a mangled cluster of what used to be an eyeball dangles down my cheek. He laughs again, “I hope you enjoyed that friend because we’re going to be at it all night!”

All night, I think to myself, He better. It is what I paid him for after all.

—
Credits to: Vincent_VenaCava

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