It hurts so much. It cuts, bruises. Yet I've sat transfixed. Three days, no food or water. Desire is keeping me alive. The wanting. I deserve my reward. I've sacrificed so much. My job, my family. My wife didn't understand. How could she, all she could think about was the baby. Twenty four hours a fucking day. Baby this, baby that. It was even worse when I quit my job. "how will we provide for it?" Fuck, to me it was still flesh forming. How bad would she be once it was out of her would it be like her, constantly screaming at me, putting me down? She was like my boss, constantly berating me. Telling me I was scruffy, complaining I wasn't presentable. I had work to do, I was busy. Busy with my box. Fat prick, I'll always savour how his nose exploded as my fist introduced itself to his meaningless face. Insult me with his bullshit? He didn't understand. Neither did that whore and the fucking brat that was feeding off her, and me. Even as I beat her to submission, pummelling her once sweet face until it was a bloody mess. Even as I took the coat hanger and ripped that piece of shit form her body. Did she understand then, did it? Could it, could she? Doesn't matter now. I hear some clicking for the first time in hours. I drop it, my hands hurt too much. It's opening, at long last it's opening. I can see them, they're coming for me. Finally I'll get what I deserve.
I cut with precision. Savour how slowly my blade slices his flesh. With ease it opens revealing a sea of crimson. I cut deep in order to meet more resistance. I find none. I have been blessed with sharp instruments. My Lord is too kind, I am unworthy. I rest the razor at his stomach. I look into his eyes, mad with fear, tears representing the agony he is in. I know of his pain. I feel it course through me. It's no different for me than it is him, he just hasn't learned to enjoy it yet. He will, in time. Ah, he attempts to speak, I tighten the chains which bind him. Is that please I can hear? Oh the sweet sound of one pleading for mercy. How I loathe the pathetic begging. I slice his chest quickly, it doesn't hurt at first as the razors so sharp. Ah, here it comes. Agony, exquisite. I loosen the chains, slightly, and grant him speech. It's nothing I haven't heard before, "please stop, you don't have to do this. I'm not like the others, I can be of assistance to you". if I didn't already know his desire the offer to assist could've been intriguing. As it is, I know he has nothing to offer. Nothing but my pleasure. I pretend not to listen to him as I take his tongue in my hand. Carefully, I pierce it with a small hook, attaching it to his upper lip. He gargles on his own blood, I've seen it all before. I've tasted this all before. Am I growing bored? This routine that is my existence, does it being to wane? Nevertheless, order must be maintained. I take the razor… and remove his eye.