TWISTED (Revised)

Chapter OnE

"Well since I can't decide what I want to use on you, I guess you can choose."

I had a successful night in finding my new play toy for the time being. He was about six feet tall with short black hair and green eyes. He was a pretty boy who thought that every girl would worship the ground he walked on, fucking disgusting.

Satisfyingly enough, he was strapped in my chair looking scared as hell. He had just woken up from his lovely little nap and I'm pretty sure he already pissed himself.

"Alright you can either pick the boring old hunting knife or my personal favorite, the scalpel." Holding the objects in both of my hands I gave him a sweet smile.

"Wha-what?" Stuttering helplessly he looked at me with wide eyes.

"Wha-what?" Mocking him I placed the hunting knife back on the wall. "I think I'll use the scalpel, after all it is my favorite." Turning to face him I twisted the scalpel in my hand.

"Why are you doing this? You're fucking crazy." He spat struggling against his restraints.

"You know the last guy that said that didn't live as long as I hoped for. He died in the same chair your sitting in. What a shame, he was a special one though, so." Sucking my teeth, I shrugged.

Not giving him another second to spew annoying pleas and make my ears bleed I ripped his shirt off. Taking the scalpel I made a clean straight cut over his collarbone. It was only about two inches long but I could tell it still hurt when I heard him suck in a breath. I gave him a couple more cuts on his chest and arms. Some were deeper than others but those are the cuts I like to inflict the most. Hearing him scream and seeing him thrash around brought me the most pleasure.

Placing the scalpel on the metal slab next to me I pulled the hunting knife down from the wall. I rarely ever use any other instruments in the beginning of the process. Less fun if the first thing you do is shoot them and they bleed out in the first couple hours. And besides that would defeat my purpose. As soon as I turned back around pretty boy decided yelling out for help was a good idea. Now don't get me wrong I love hearing the screams of my victims but only when they are screams of agony and fear.

Slapping him across his face with the knife still in my hand, it left a pretty long gash on the side of his cheek.
"Shut the fuck up." I spat in his face, putting the knife back in its place on the wall I headed for my tool kit. Opening the box I pulled out a needle and some thread. Getting the needle and thread ready I walked back over to him. The first thing he did was scream as soon as he saw what was in my hands.

"If you don't shut your fucking mouth instead of sewing it shut I'll just cut your fucking tongue out." Getting it over with I shoved the needle through his lips and began sewing.

"Ahhh, finally peace and quiet. You know I'd really prefer to hear you scream for this next part but watching you struggle through the thread will be just as satisfying." Leaving no room for his thoughts to wander I reached for the hammer beside me and smashed his right knee cap. I knew it had to hurt like hell due to the quick part his lips made to emit a scream. He had opened his mouth so fast that the threads had ever so slightly tore his skin, although I'm not sure he noticed through his screams and sobs.

"Hmmm, we are only just getting started so let's see about getting those threads to tear themselves out huh?" With a chuckle I went right back to attending to my master piece and completing my goal.

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After a few more rounds with the hammer and the loss of a couple fingers I was successful in completing my goal. The threads had torn so harshly that pieces of skin were missing and pretty boy had passed out. Sad that I couldn't leave him in agonizing pain throughout the night but good for me in the sense that I'll sleep soundly.

Walking up the steps I entered my bathroom to wash off the days activities. Stopping in the mirror I looked at my reflection seeing my pupils dilated from the high of inflicting pain to another. The green in my eyes as vibrant as ever, the blood covering my hands, the longing I felt to do it again but knowing I needed to pace myself and practice control as to not repeat last times fuck up.

I smiled to myself as a reward, not a smirk or a fake for-show smile but a real one to let the inner beast in me know I was proud. Once it had appeared I had wiped it off just as fast, boasting can be dangerous so I've learned to only reward myself when necessary and not take it any further.

Reaching over to turn the shower on I whistled "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong and prepared myself for another dreamless sleep. But the thoughts of awaiting tomorrow's pleasures would be heavy on my mind.