Torcher

the sad part about my job is that no matter the situation i cant say no. luckily the vile and disturbing sins my victims are paying for make me loathe them and make my thirst for blood all the more necessary. Friday, late evening, i was standing before my prey in the dim light. his eyes locked on me in utter terror. i wanted his pain to last. anticipation hurts just as much as a knife in the wrist. i wanted his death to be slow. i had till sunrise to decide if i want to leave him living and forever scarred or send his soul on to the next life. i dont kill in vein i needed to test him.

Who was he? a monster to be precise. he was wanted in various states. they called him the I-40 killer. hed give unsuspecting strangers a lift. ones who were stranded no where to go and no one to call and hed feast. sexual deviant, this specific bastard got off to rotting corpses hed be the type of guy to fuck a walker instead of piercing its skull with a sharp object. not even the Christians can die with dignity.

Steven Marcus, hes an attractive male probably in his late thirty's, if he didn't have on those goofy glasses and he took better care of his hair id say people wouldn't mind getting porked by this guy but hes only into people who say no, people who scream, beg, and cry. i mean he could just look up some people off a website who are into that shit but its not enough to torcher them while he rapes them. he must take their life. only by blowing the brains out of an innocent terrified girl can he properly pop a cork.

hes bound beneath me sitting down. his wrists tied to the arms of the chair he sits in. this gives me an idea. i get a lot of my inspiration from other killers my favorite being a man by the name of "jig-saw" so a trap would be pretty decent. i dont like just cutting and slicing and gritting no i like having fun watching my victim struggle and fight for survival. if a man earns back his life i feel pride. if he dies in the process he is weak and deserves the pits of hell. god i must be a horrible person. i wonder what happened. i used to be so dorky and weak. a real pipsqueak that didnt even know the rules of a basket ball game. now im shoving people skulls in the hoops and dribbling on their broken bones. Harvard welcomed me with open arms. i was a genius in the class and in the courtroom. that turned out good for something if i ever get caught i can use my skills in law to wiggle my way out of at least the death penalty. its almost like "black on Black" crime, people act like they care but they really dont. a black man will spend more time in prison for killing a white man then raping a woman of his own color. its a sick world we live in but thats why they need me.

"listen... i wanna play a game" my hands met his inner thighs and i looked him dead in the eye. "im not gonna kill you... im gonna let you reclaim your life."

"thank y-"

"shut up." i stood up. "you my friend are repulsive... on the inside so heres how this is gonna go down."

this next parts a bit of a visual so bear with me. imagine this guy as he is. hes in a sitting position facing me. his hands hang over the arm rests. at his ankles are a set of mechanisms. i walk over to a near by table and grab a large object. in front of this guy is a tall pole that rises up to around his neck region. i set the device on the pole and lock it in.

"what the fuck is that!" he jerks his face away.

the device is a set of knives intertwining before his face. they open like a cage. behind the knives is a button connected to the pole that goes down to his chair and into his arm rests. on each arm rest is a switch. i flip them both followed by painful grunts and gasps. blood begins to trickle from his wrists down his palms and drip from his fingers.

" its the tool thats going to help you save your life Steven, here are the rules. you can either sit idly and bleed out or fight for your life. simply press your face against the knives and push your face to the other side to press the button with your forehead releasing your bindings. press hard though we want your outsides to finally match what you are on the inside. ugly."

"your crazy as hell." he spoke calmly. "let me go dammit!"

"if your not gonna try let me know now ill just torcher you in other ways. perhaps a cheese grater to the knee caps or a pair of pliers to your finger nails. ooh yeah ill do both then poor gasoline over your wounds. then im going to take this led pipe and beat it against your throat. if i let you live you might be able to get a career as a comedian because theres a guy out there with a lisp who can show you how its done. hell be your Yoda young sky walker. ooh just to make that analogy all the more better after im done with the led pipe im gonna cut off your left hand. hell lets go crazy ill torch your father alive too. you can visit him in the hospital as soon as you regain consciousness and i want to be there to record the famous line... Steven i am your father. but in order for that to work you'll need to ask who he is... ill have to beat your skull a little bit y=to give you brain damage"

"what the fuck is wrong with you."

"hey a lot of things but at least i dont fuck dead people... ones that i killed personally. see if the roles were reversed ill bet everything i have that the moment i take my last breath youd unzip your pants and have a blast."

after a moment of silence i saw determination grow on his face. he then shoved it into the sharp blades roughly. his cries fulled my hate fire. i smiled as i watched the blood drain from various gashes on his face. it was beautiful i must say. watching a man fight for his life. i wonder if he will make it... his cries became harsh manly grunts. by now pain had left his mind and all that was left was determination. he fell to the ground face first. he tried to stand slipping in his own blood and falling again. he finnaly got to his feet and mustered the words: "im gonna kill you you mother fucker" i stepped out of the way when he came at me and he rammed right into a bunch of supplies i had lying around. after a few moments i turned to his direction which had grown silent. i saw his foot twitch and then i noticed various sharp objects poking out of his flesh. the back of his shirt was shredded with the bottom of a fence post sticking out of his, what looked like a kidney, his left one. i was impressed. my favorite part was the yard sale sign that went through his eye and somehow out of his nose. i should probably clean this mess up and get home in case one of those nosy ass teenagers start getting antsy trying to get a hold of me. i dont want them coming to my house and me not there. they'd most likely wait then id have to explain why my shoes are drenched in blood and that would just be a field day all in its own. also after a death i need at least three hours of sleep to recover so i dont lash out and kill an innocent person. this job is a lot of mental damage...