I tied him down, flat on the cold surgical table, the room around was tiled a ghastly white, the air reeked of a very hospital-like stench, saturated with cleaning agents and disinfectants, although I did smell a faint trace of blood, I’m sure he didn’t notice it, incapacitated as he was.
I found him outside my regular departmental store, nothing odd about him, a regular guy going about his boring life, boring, perhaps that is what struck me as odd, how do you live a life ridiculed by boredom? Maybe, he longed for freedom, I could give it to him, a second chance to be born anew, fast forward his life-cycle, save him from the otherwise grim reality of life, and plunge him into a vortex of prospects unknown.
I am but human, a good deed demands a remuneration of sorts, mine was simple, I will aid in his transgression, be a messiah to his soul, in return he must satiate my bloodlust, pleasure the sadist in me,only he was oblivious to the latter.
So there he was, his eyes split open, squinting under the bright surgical light focused on his face, saliva trickled down the sides of his face, drenching the gag I so neatly shoved down his mouth. I could see that his palms had gone blue, a sickly blue, with his many veins jutting out like ripples in still water, evidence of the tight wrist straps. His knees shook with obvious fear, tremors sourcing from his spine, though I find it rather ironical, this weakling has a spine. As much as I enjoyed watching his pain, I went on to make incisions around his finger nails, I took my scalpel and lightly touched the portion right under the nails, succulent as his flesh was, warm blood trickled down, the red made my hands shake with excitement, not good when you’re cutting somebody up, I made a mess of it, the flesh slid of his bone, not a pretty sight, pale bone with bits of muscle still stuck to its surface and veins wriggling along the side, beating in tune with his heartbeat. I snagged the bit of flesh of to expose naked bone, neater I felt, aesthetically appealing, so I went on to replicate the effect on each of his fingers, stripped the flesh down to the knuckles. His screaming had ended a long time back, he lied unconscious, his spit dry and caked to his skin, the whites of his eyes exposed.”
-Angad Nanda
I found him outside my regular departmental store, nothing odd about him, a regular guy going about his boring life, boring, perhaps that is what struck me as odd, how do you live a life ridiculed by boredom? Maybe, he longed for freedom, I could give it to him, a second chance to be born anew, fast forward his life-cycle, save him from the otherwise grim reality of life, and plunge him into a vortex of prospects unknown.
I am but human, a good deed demands a remuneration of sorts, mine was simple, I will aid in his transgression, be a messiah to his soul, in return he must satiate my bloodlust, pleasure the sadist in me,only he was oblivious to the latter.
So there he was, his eyes split open, squinting under the bright surgical light focused on his face, saliva trickled down the sides of his face, drenching the gag I so neatly shoved down his mouth. I could see that his palms had gone blue, a sickly blue, with his many veins jutting out like ripples in still water, evidence of the tight wrist straps. His knees shook with obvious fear, tremors sourcing from his spine, though I find it rather ironical, this weakling has a spine. As much as I enjoyed watching his pain, I went on to make incisions around his finger nails, I took my scalpel and lightly touched the portion right under the nails, succulent as his flesh was, warm blood trickled down, the red made my hands shake with excitement, not good when you’re cutting somebody up, I made a mess of it, the flesh slid of his bone, not a pretty sight, pale bone with bits of muscle still stuck to its surface and veins wriggling along the side, beating in tune with his heartbeat. I snagged the bit of flesh of to expose naked bone, neater I felt, aesthetically appealing, so I went on to replicate the effect on each of his fingers, stripped the flesh down to the knuckles. His screaming had ended a long time back, he lied unconscious, his spit dry and caked to his skin, the whites of his eyes exposed.”
-Angad Nanda
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