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What is torture by our hands if not an art form where we express our deepest desires and showcase evilness to those who deserve it, treating their bodies like canvases designed to forever imprint our rage in them?
True skills lie underneath a calm exterior and precise planning, as no murder done in rage ever amounts to anything.
The minute a killer loses his mind, everything becomes blank because when a hunter has no clear target, he’s dangerous to society and loses his purpose.
I drink in the environment around me, welcoming the peace settling over me. Only here do I have the freedom of being myself without having to pretend to be anything else.
I’m a monster with no redeeming qualities as redemption requires remorse, and I have none. How can I, when anticipation nips on my skin at the sight around me?
From a knife collection gathered all over the world during my travels, each more deadly than the other and having the ability to cut any flesh with just a little pressure to poisons found on the forbidden markets that would make any victim complain for whatever I have in mind.
Sometimes a person just has no patience for fucking screams, especially from cowards, but then again, who has respect for cowards in this cruel world of ours?
Not me.
You either survive or die, and if you can’t survive…act with dignity because that’s the only thing left when someone destroys you piece by piece.
I should know.
After all, I rebuilt myself from the ashes, but I haven’t risen like a phoenix.
I’ve soaked in darkness instead.
“Please, someone help me!” the person in the bag shouts. He thrashes several times before yelling again, this time louder and sending annoyance through my entire system. “Please! Help me!”
Six lamps above me cast a harsh light on the medications stored on the shelf counters. I guess one good thing came from my medical degree.
Walking toward them, I snag several bottles and prepare the syringe, placing it on the tray near one of the operating tables along with several blades.
“I’ve been kidnapped!” The person continues to talk, making me roll my eyes. “What do you want?” He tries another tactic when he’s ignored once again, and I turn on a few machines before finally grabbing the bag and putting the body on the table with a loud thud. “Please, help me!” I tear the bag, and a naked man opens up to my view, relief etched on his features. “Thank God. A doctor.” He sags back and gulps for breath while sweat slides down his skin as I remove the bag and throw it away. Only for him to tense when I grab the leather straps hanging on the sides and start securing him to the operating table. “What are you doing?” he asks in confusion. He moves to sit up, but his agonizing scream echoes through the space when I punch him hard in the collarbone, sending him flying back and securing him in one position. “Please, no!” he begs, choking a little on the blood while doing his best to wiggle, but it’s useless.
Once they are on this table, they are helpless and motionless. “What do you want?” He clenches his fists, his fingers digging into his palms and drawing blood. I put on my gloves, and he swallows hard. “I have money. Lots of money. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Ah, money.
I have it in abundance, but even if I didn’t…I’d never take a dime from the likes of him.
“Do you?” I finally ask as I pick up the syringe and insert it in the vial, drawing enough substance to satisfy me.
“Yes. I’m wealthy. Just name your price. I’ll double it.”
I stab the needle into his neck as he twists his head to the side trying to avoid it, only to yelp, his saliva flying in a different direction. “Did they offer you money as well?” He stills, our gazes clashing as realization flashes in them. I click my tongue. “Ah, no. They weren’t powerful enough for that. Right, Principal Smith?” Dropping the syringe, I wrap my hand around the heavy drill and goose bumps pop all over his skin when I press on the button, the trrr sound sending humming through my entire system and coating this place into something wicked.
This a doom.
A doom of my creation, and as such, only I make the rules and have the freedom to display my vices and dark desires however I see fit, for no one can stop me.
Those who tried are already dead.
“It’s a mistake. All the allegations were false.” He gasps when I press the tip of the drill against his pulse and glide it lower, sheer terror reflecting in his gaze. He scrunches his eyes, biting on his lip. “Children love to lie, especially in boarding schools. They’ll say anything to go back home.” He shakes his head. “None of them have proof.”
“Every action has consequences, Octavius.” He leans closer, whispering into my ear as his hand flexes around my throat, cutting off my oxygen supply while I slap his arms, but it’s no use.
My strength was always nothing against his. “And you sinned this world just by being born.” He slaps his belt against his knee and throws me on the floor where I land on my ass, my head hitting the table, and judging by the pain I feel, I know I’ll have a bump. “Don’t you dare open your fucking mouth ever again, Octavius. Everyone will ignore it. Just like they did today.” He grins as I slide back when he advances on me. “No one would believe you.”
Fury ignites my veins, sending gasoline on the burning fire that’s my hatred, and without any warning, I pause the drill right above his crotch. His agonizing scream fills the air, his flesh becoming nothing but a mass under the drill as blood soaks his body and slides down his sides, smearing the table.
Satisfied with the result, I put the drill away and wipe my hands on the towel while tears blanket his eyes and his heartbeat speeds up, his body doing its best to adjust to the unbearable pain he must be experiencing. The medication mixed with the poison should kick in very soon, keeping him awake for all the atrocities his body would experience while being unable to yap or do anything else. Just face all the torture and being at someone else’s mercy, like all these countless souls he’s trapped and ruined in his kingdom where he thought he was invincible. “Except they told the truth, hadn’t they, Principal Smith?” I slide the mask lower. He still has some strength left to look at me, and I see when recognition hits him.
