I was awoken groggily by a scream, it didn’t sound humane and even if it was, I wouldn’t want to be that person right now. It was very early in the morning, My throat was scuffed from all the screaming last night, I could barely swallow my own saliva. The sun was not out but if I were to guess I would say 5am if we’re running a longer day and shorter night and 6am if it is the opposite.
My eyes had not adjusted to the darkness so I could not see what it was but I felt the horror, it felt like my whole chest cavity had fallen into my stomach and it has been doing that a lot recently. When my eyes adjusted to the dark I immediately wished it had not, for someone who has not seen a single dead body except on televisions or on the phone, I was sure seeing a lot to last me a lifetime, the irony being my lifetime could end here. It was not that these men had to do this, it was that they enjoyed doing it, they loved the job.
The fat guy with the cliché skull and bones tattoo never smiled until he was mid torture. His expression while doing the ungodly was oddly godly, it was sadistic; sometimes I got lost while trying to study the expression, most times I wondered what led him to this life, did he have a life outside, was he the same outside as he is here?
He was quite literally skinning a human being, he was using a very sharp knife to peel the skin off his Victim’s back; it weirdly reminded me of that one YouTube video where a chef was showing off his new kitchen knife that was so sharp it was cutting a tomato in very thin slices.
This could be what a torsoplasty looked like except there was no hanging skin and no anesthesia. I could see something that looked like animal fat and remembered how they taught us about the layers of the skin in biology class in secondary school. I couldn’t see the face of the victim clearly and it was as if my mind chose just the horrific parts to concentrate on; even though I didn’t want to, I felt compelled to keep looking.
He started from the lower back just inches above his butt, he cut it with such craftsmanship you’d think he was just peeling an orange; even when he got to the middle, he didn’t miss a bit. Even though it was horrific, it was really interesting to watch; a craftsman performing his craft. My eyes were burning and if my hands weren’t still hurting I’d have rubbed them, instead I just blinked constantly to water them.
My injuries were beginning to get infected, the water dripping down from the injury was tickling me and I would have wiped it off if my hands weren’t too heavy to be moved and if my palms weren’t as bare as whoever was lying on that table’s back. I have never been a superstitious person but I should have known the day I walked into a cobweb was the day my life would change forever.