"Prisoner #23216," My boss responded. My eyes lit up. The first prisoner. I had been working at the Johnson Murder Facility for only three months now, but I had only been the lowly secretary, writing down and recording the thousands of people we tortured and killed everyday. It was a tedious job. I longed for the day that I would be able to kill people by myself. I walked over to the row of prison cells. A frightened looking woman with shoulder length brown hair and a terrified and anxious expression on her face had a tag that confirmed that she was prisoner #23216.
"You're coming with me." I said in the most intimidating voice I could manage.
"Please don't take me." The woman whimpered.
"Too bad," I said. I grabbed her arm and walked her through the long hallways. She kept shaking, so it was difficult to walk because she kept slowing me down.
"Walk faster," I barked. I brought her all the way to a door. The door was marked with the words "Torture Room". I felt a chill of excitement pass through me. This was it.
I led her into the room and let her get situated into her surroundings (although, she wouldn't stay in them for long). It was a high-quality facility. It was dimly-lit, sure, but that was only for ambience. She sat on a chair marked "Prisoners, sit here". I strapped her in with restraints to ensure that there was no possibility of her escaping. I brought out my tool of weapons and searched for the best ones. The object of torturing was not the end-definitely not, because it was always death-but the means. I selected a machete. I gave the woman one last look, as if to ask her if she was ready. She solemnly nodded.
I sharpened the machete one last time until I stabbed into the middle of her stomach. A thick, red liquid gushed out and darkened her clothing, along with my hands. The woman gasped, then screamed in pain. I grasped the machete by its long handle, and began to twist around inside the woman's torso. The woman shrieked loudly. Some people in the facility would have chosen to gag their victims, but I could already tell that I enjoyed it more when I could hear the victim's reactions.
I felt myself getting a little bit bored with the repetitive actions. I needed something more. I moved my weapon upwards until it created a cross-shaped slit in her stomach. I proceeded to cut off more of the skin covering her stomach. Her intestines and other organs within her digestive system were now visible. They were covered in dark red blood. In just two bold strokes, I cut off the whole of her large intestine. I stared at the exposed small intestine in front of me, and looked back at the colon. I stretched the colon, and tied it around her small intestine.
My actions caused at least a quart of blood to run from her mouth. I smiled as a I saw the desperate expression on her face. This was enough to keep me entertained for a while, but I eventually got tired of that, too. I realized that it was the murder weapon which was getting old. I stabbed her in the arm with the machete to place it somewhere while I chose a new torture device. She screamed, with a larger amount of surprise in her voice than previous times, because she was not at all expecting the stab she had just received in her forearm. Rage, rather than pain, was the expression on her face.
I unlocked the restraints and took her out of the chair, and then I attached cuffs with long chains attached to her wrists and ankles, and I chained her to the wall. I picked up a shorter knife-a dagger-and plunged it into the side of her face-specifically, her cheek. I took out the knife and stabbed her over and over again. I slowly moved from the top of her body, areas such as her face, but I avoided her forehead as I didn't want her to die just yet. I avoided her neck as well, because it would cause her to be unable to use her voice, and as I said before, I liked listening to her screams of agony. Blood spurted everywhere. Dark red stains were on her cheeks, but where I stabbed more than once, I could see through her cheek, right into her mouth. However, I could only see a constant stream of blood, coming from inside her mouth and from her stomach, which was taking stab wounds from me at that exact moment.
She kept throwing up blood, and between that, she produced shrieks of anguish. I almost stabbed her in the lungs, but decided against it just in time-it would cause her to die too fast. I stabbed her in the legs, and pretty much immobilized her. An idea struck me as I punctured her knee, making her drop to the floor. I took the long chain attached to cuffs around her limbs, and dragged the woman out of the room. I dragged her to another room across the hall excitedly, wanting to hurry up and torture her some more. The woman was reaching her limit, and soon, she would perish. I opened a brown door. It was an old, and relatively unused room that I had found recently. The hinges creaked, and its brown paint was peeling. The woman was only semi-conscious, but her eyes widened as she regained alertness when she saw the floor covered with upward facing spikes.
"P-please don't," the woman begged. "Anything but that."
"Shut up. You're going to die soon, anyway, and you know it. Why do you care?" I reminded her. She shut her mouth and hung her head low as she accepted her fate. She looked up again and said something inaudibly, but I didn't really care to know what it was. The best part was almost there.
I took the chain, and proceeded to drag her around the perimeter of the room. I wore special durable shoes to protect my own feet. The woman was lying face first, with her stomach down. The spikes dug into her and tore her already bloody and cut up skin. I worked away at her flesh, spilling blood onto the ground. Her stomach was already mostly exposed, so the mess I had made of her intestines was torn out and skewered onto one of the spikes. I finished walking the perimeter, and made my way towards the middle. I noticed that her arm had been amputated off her shoulder. It resting on top of four or five spikes in a row. It had blood continuously flowing where it was cut off.
I made it to the exact middle of the room. I was pretty sure the woman was dead. I was curious to see the damage I had done, so I turned her body around. The woman's entire body was buried in layers of both dried and fresh blood. There was still blood flowing out of her. Her face was all cut up and torn, and blood was pouring out of those exposed areas. I could see the inner parts of her face; I was able to see her jaw muscles, and even part of a bone. It was the same story for her legs, especially around her kneecaps. Her chest was torn up, and her lungs were poking out and basically shredded. Her heart had been stabbed by a spike, with blood that it was working to pump spilling out onto her skin. The woman's stomach was missing, but I could see from across the room that it was skewered on the floor.
The majority of the floor was painted crimson red by the woman's blood. I was sure she was dead. However, her eyes suddenly flew open. I didn't think it was possible that she could go through all that torture and still be alive. She probably had only a few more seconds left to live anyways. Although, the woman's blank forehead was bothering me a lot. I had a dagger in my back pocket. I took it out and stabbed the woman right in the head. It was extremely sharp and durable, so it stabbed right into her brain. I left the knife right in, which mostly blocked the flow of her blood. The woman's eyes rolled back, and her body grew cold and clammy.
She was dead.
