The pain I feel in my mouth is dull and reverberating. It’s not as delightful as I had hoped it would be and I think it’s best that I’ve been robbed of the ability to speak, because the tip of the tongue I once had would be fully laden with curses for my tormentor.
Being raised in a home where manners were of the strictest requirement, where words such as the ones that are on the tip of my tongue, would have made me turn against my upbringing, but that’s why I ran away in the first place, wasn’t it? It’s why I’ve led the life I’ve chosen, and it’s why I’m here.
I glance at the clock on the wall; thirty more minutes until he returns and I’m subjected to his cruelty for however long he deems fit. It almost always begins at midnight, but only ever ends when he tires for the evening.
He visits me in the meantime and speaks to me. He tells me I know that I deserve this, and I’m at fault for everything happening to me. It makes me wonder who he’s trying to desperately to convince of this―me or himself.
It’s no revelation to me, and each time he begins to prattle on and ramble about how this is all my doing, I start to lose a little faith in his work. He should be used to this because he’s done it many times before, but as he’s told me already, he thinks I’m special.
I wonder if that’s supposed to ease the pain? Yet, to know I’m his favorite only means at his hands, I’ll experience more than any before me .
I take a pained breath and put the palm of my hand to my chin, and spit the rest of his cum out. Once I’m sure the only thing I can taste is the copper that’s lingering in my throat and not the sin, I use the palm of my hand to close my mouth as much as I can.
Even with more than half my tongue sitting somewhere in an icebox, I wonder if it will work again when attached. I wonder how much pain I’ll be in when it happens, and I wonder if I’ll be able to properly form words again.
Does it really matter?
The point of this isn’t to walk away or to be cleansed of my misdeeds. It’s to understand fully that all actions have consequences, and when the time comes, the ultimate finale will be absolution through death.
Whether it’s a graceful exit or one to be remembered will be up to me. I don’t know yet if I’ll fight for a chance to live since he’s so determined my life is his for the taking.
Only when the time comes will I know my true worth and if I desire to see more of this sick world I’ve created for myself.
Another glance at the clock on the wall tells me I’ve been lost in thought for far too long. I can hear his footsteps approaching our special room again and I swallow as best I can through the pain and agony.
Fifteen more minutes before we continue.
4
Good news! I think my idea may work. I’ve wrapped it tightly enough and I believe in the cryogenic process to a certain extent. Granted, a freezer isn’t exactly a chamber, but if it works for medical transplants, there’s no harm in trying here as well, right?
I know it’s not exactly time yet, but would it be okay with you if I sat down for a bit? I promise I have no tricks up my sleeve; I just want to admire what we’ve done here so far.
You do me a kindness by allowing me this small gesture and I appreciate you letting me get off my feet for the moment. I’ll tell you a secret if you’d like to hear one.
I’ve glanced into a number of the rooms on my way back, and we are, by far, the most creative in this place. What? Did you think you were the only one? The look on your face tells me as much, but there are many others just like you. They know they deserve what’s happening to them, but my wanderings give me yet another reason to admire you.
You have more strength than most I’ve laid eyes upon. You’re still alive while others look like they’ve long since died and I can’t help but wonder how long you’re going to let me play this game with you.
It is only a game—you know that by now, don’t you? You must; you’re very smart and because of that you know how to survive even though that’s not the end either of us are seeking. I’m willing to barter with you before that time is upon us, and the price will be revealed to you when I feel you’re nearing the end.
Don’t look too hopeful―it’s nothing short of the horrors you’ve so willingly signed up for, but I promise at the very least, it’ll be tasteful and rather momentous.
I have five more minutes to decide where I want to begin carving you again. Do you have any suggestions? Objections? Places you’d rather not be cut?
You’ll have to forgive me for seeming rude. Even through newly made wounds, I manage to put it from my mind that you don’t have a tongue. Does holding your mouth closed help with the pain?
You understand why I’m smiling, don’t you? You’re cheating yourself of the exquisite pain you should be feeling by attempting to further numb it. I’ll allow it just this once, though.
The question in your eyes―if it is meant to soften my heart, then I must tell you now that I have none. If I did, I wouldn’t be here, would I? No, I’ll allow it because we’ve only just started on our cleansing of you and I still have so much more left to do to you.
I probably shouldn’t admit this but I don’t want you to gain more false hope than you already seem to be. Two more nights here and we’ll be at the end of our time together. I will give you the choice I’ve been teasing you with, but know this: you will not be able to rescind whatever decision you come to, and one choice may potentially be worse than the other.
Enough chatter, though.
It’s time for us to begin again.
5
When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to tell us stories about a boogeyman that would take bad children away from their parents. He would come like a thief in the night and steal them from their very beds, ensuring no one would ever be the wiser by how quietly and quickly he moved. By the time the disappearance would be noticed, the parents would immediately give up all hope and accept that the Boogeyman had taken their child, grieving for only a small amount of time before forgetting it ever happened.
I wonder if she secretly knew this monster wasn’t a figment of the imagination after all. I wonder if she had ever encountered him before, because her stories seem almost true to the Boogeyman before me—only, I wasn’t stolen. I freely gave myself over to him for this, and the only way I’ll find out how this story ends is to see it through for as long as I can.
She never did tell us if any children managed to escape from him, and if they did, what manner they were returned in. I would imagine being at the mercy of the Boogeyman is something that would, at the very least, damage the mind of a young child.
But I’m no child and this monster before me is no villain in a fable, yet he instills a fear in me I’ve never felt before, and in a way, I find it to be a welcomed thing, if not exciting at times. The fear that grips me only fuels his fire―that much is prominent in his eyes and actions.
I will not allow myself to feel pleasure in his touch or what he does to me, because then I will be no better than the dog that inflicts it. And he speaks the truth. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, I am beginning to enjoy this, but not for the reasons he may think.
I’m enjoying it because it’s a means to an end I have freely chosen, not one that has been bestowed upon me. I took control of my fate the day I decided this is my only hope of absolution, and I will not falter until I feel the weight of my past finally lifted from my body.
Maybe he’ll take mercy on me at some point and allow me to finish what he has begun, but I doubt it. I doubt a lot of things since entering this place, and the only truth I know is the sting of his blade as it rips flesh from bone.
I close my eyes for a moment and listen as best I can over the sound of my own heavy breathing. The feeling of numbness is giving way to pain again and I wonder if I can slip another pill unnoticed by him.
A shuddering breath escapes from somewhere deep inside me when I hear the sound of him sharpening his blades. It’s almost time to begin again―
it must be. That’s the only time I have ever heard the melodic sounds of impending chaos echo so hollowly and ominously throughout this room.
There’s no time to try for the relief of pain the pills will bring me. There’s no time to attempt to numb my body to the serenade of his deep cuts and searing madness.
And even though I know the moment is close at hand again, the one thing I wish for most is being withheld from me for two more nights.
Am I ready, he asks me. How does one prepare for something like this? The cool edge of the blades as they dig deeply into the skin, only to be torn away with the brutality of Vikings of old.
It’ll never matter if I’m ready because he always is, and he’s already making his way toward me with the madness shining brightly in his eyes.
6
I think we’ve done a wonderful job with this arm so far, so let’s start on the other one. You’ll see in the end why I’ve decided to do this. You’ll understand then that in order to become a beautiful butterfly, you have to shed your ugly exterior. Only then will you be able to truly become the soul you were meant to be.
Don’t give me those eyes; I find you quite appealing, but to dig out the darkness inside you, I have to go through the flesh.
Extend your arm and take care not to move or make any noise. I’m sure at this point you understand I will not accept a simpering child in place of the person in front of me, but I want to make sure you remember, so I’ll remind you each time before we begin.
See? It’s not so bad the more we go along, is it? I understand the urge to flinch and I want you to know how much I appreciate that you’re behaving for me now. Also, I don’t want you to think I don’t know about the pills. You’re cheating, and that’s something we can’t have, but there’s something you don’t know.
I’ll explain it when I’m done removing this layer. I can’t give you the stern talking to you deserve until I see some muscle first.
Is that a whimper? Are you really surprised I’d be going so deeply this time? Honestly, I expected more of you and for that, your legs will be next. Eventually, when the end comes, you’ll thank me for it and probably beg me to kill you. I won’t make it so easy because we still have our tiny question and answer session at the conclusion of our beautiful dance.
Tell me something about you, little girl. I know you can’t say it by parting your bruised and tattered lips, so tell me with your eyes. I’ll ask you a question―fuck, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to pull so violently; that’s an amateur mistake, but see? We’ve almost degloved you in one fell swoop! That’s something to celebrate, isn’t it?
Sigh
Never mind then. I can see you’re not impressed by my prowess, so I’ll just keep digging while I think of what I want to know about you.
You’re trembling. The shock will settle in soon enough and I guess we have to wait for that moment, because if your hand and arm keep shaking, the cuts will be ragged and unkempt.
Would you open your mouth for me, please? I want to see how your stump is healing, or if it’s healing at all—though I would imagine at this point it’s still more than likely a bloody mass of pulp.
Lean your head back slightly. Fuck; that’s not looking very good, but not to worry, I’m sure we’ll still be able to reattach your tongue later on. At least, I hope; otherwise, it would be a waste of the half in the freezer.
You can close your mouth now. To be quite honest, it’s a bit repulsive, but these are the little things that happen when you don’t play by the rules.
It’s all a game, little girl. Remember that; all games can be won if you can outsmart your opponent.
Unfortunately for you, I’ve never lost one yet. Now, open your eyes again and look at me. You’re still trembling and I want to know; what’s your worst sin? What is it that brought you here to us?
7
The pain is searing and I don’t think I’ll feel the shock I am so desperately praying to sink in any time soon. It’s a blessing in a way, because my tormentor won’t keep cutting if I’m not steady.
A newly made creation of flesh and bone is what I was told my body will look like if I continue to shake, and I know I’m to be rendered a piece of art in the end, something to be put on display, perhaps as a warning to others of what they’re getting themselves into by being here.
That was the request I made when I checked off the box on the form, but will the contract hold if I keep cheating? And how the fuck did the pills come to light? I’ve had them hidden behind me in the crack of the wall this entire time.
Maybe I’m not the first to try it, and I know I won’t be the last, but now I’m wondering what exactly is in the tablets I’ve been taking. I don’t feel tired anymore and my body has stopped going numb.
I only feel dizziness, pain, and by some fucking miracle, the will to keep going. All games can be won―what if I don’t want to win anymore? What if I want to stop playing? What if …
“I asked you a question,” the voice comes harshly. “I expect an answer.”
I take a deep breath and blink rapidly as I turn my attention back to my tormentor and raise an eyebrow. What was the question? How do I answer? Will it result in a harsher punishment if I answer it wrong?
I part my lips to speak and a waterfall of blood pours onto my chin. I take a deep breath, careful not to swallow the small lake that’s been marinating in my mouth. I think it would be a shame to die from choking on the piece of my arm shoved into my mouth, but a fucking embarrassment to die from swallowing my own blood.
If I still had my tongue, I’d be able to spit this shit out. Then again, if I still had my tongue, I wouldn’t have to use my lips like a dam.
“I’ll ask one more time, then I’m going to slit your fucking stomach open,” the voice says with forced patience, punctuated with a long-suffering sigh. “What’s your biggest sin? What brought you here to us?”
My mind is slowly giving way to madness at this point, and I can’t really remember why I came here, much less my biggest sin, but as my tormentor moves closer with wild eyes, the blade so prominently pointed toward my stomach, I take a deep breath and hold up my hands―what’s left of them anyway.
The blade retreats slowly and I’m being watched with curious eyes as I place my hands on my stomach and make a stabbing motion, praying it’s not taken for a sign I want to be stabbed. I don’t know how else to explain it without the ability to speak, and this puts me in a precarious situation.
But when the look of understanding overshadows the curiosity, when the nod comes in place of the glare, I know I’ve been understood.
“How far along were you?” the voice asks in a kinder, almost gentler tone.
I hold up three ragged fingers before I drop them down to the dirty floor again and use whatever strength I’ve got to pull myself closer to the wall behind me.
It’s not the entire truth, but my tormentor hasn’t earned that yet, and I still haven’t come to terms with what I’ve done. Twisting my tale of woe slightly will have to do for now.
Maybe when I’m given the power of speech again I’ll tell the truth, because after all, shouldn’t it set me free?
8
I can’t stand when they think I believe their lies, but I don’t mind playing along if it makes their time with me tolerable. The reason I don’t appreciate it is because I feel like they’re taking me for a fool of sorts, but once you’re inside the mind of your subject, lies are easy enough to discern.
I suppose I shouldn’t speak of the others in front of you. In fact, I probably shouldn’t speak like you’re not here at all, but you have to understand that I am―and always will be, quite frankly―one step ahead of you.
You know, you’re rather lucky right now. Bringing up the past always puts me in a dour mood and I’m afraid I won’t do much of a good job with you for the remainder of this hour, so I’m going to excuse myself.
Oh, I’ll be back to try again shortly, but for now I need to clear my head of the bullshit you�
��ve allowed to seep back in. I will apologize, as I hate starting my work and then having to walk away. I promise, when I do return, you’ll feel something quite different; something you haven’t felt just yet.
True pain is a beautiful thing, little girl, and you’ll learn the meaning of it soon enough.
Fucking cunt.
I spit on the ground just outside the door as I slam it behind me. The loud bang it makes is sure to instill fear in her and make her think twice about trying to win this game.
This is the second time she thinks she’s outsmarted me, and I don’t know what she feels she’s achieving by this.
Victories are often the end result of master strategy, perseverance, and being wiser than the opponent. Since I’m embedded so deeply inside of her mind at this point, I had expected her to just roll over and take it.
I guess being the villain in any story doesn’t always work out the way we want it to, and that’s something I still have to learn. Others before her have loved me for what I’ve done to them. I’ve been worshiped as a god and condemned as the Devil himself, yet I think I maintain a perfect balance because I truly believe all gods are devils in some way.
The need for power, control, and constant obedience is a wicked thing, no matter what angle you wish to look at it from. All things are both innocent and devious, but that’s what makes this cruel world so damn beautiful―the balance and the struggle to keep it that way.
I’m no god, nor am I a devil of the underworld. I’m simply someone who knows some are not capable of being in this world and are completely better off put to rest. I enjoy my work and hope to continue what I do for many more years to come.
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