Chapter 1: 1 – Redemption

“Aah! Let me go you fucking bastards! Don’t you know who I am?”

This is it. They got me! Motherfuckers! Let it be quick, God! Let it be quick!

“Of course we know shit stain! Oh and you’re royally fucked, our boss wants us to give you the VIP treatment.”

“No! Aaah! You fuckers, let me go!“

“Don’t struggle you little shit!“

Fuck! Fuck! This is bad!

His captors, who held him tight, felt his heartbeat accelerating, pulsing stronger. Such a rush. Everyone there expected with fervor a life and death spectacle, curtains to roll and the show to begin. Some recoiled in disgust others in excitement. The play about to commence was a common occurrence in these lands. Their victim struggled with whatever strength he had left, a sudden ruckus filled a small passage, dust rose as the action got chaotic. Every now and then their victim tried to break free, to delay his impending doom. With every step this unfortunate soul got closer to redemption, although not one by God, but by the hands of men, and this kind of redemption is hell on earth.

Fucking bitch! She betrayed me and delivered me to them! Fuck, what should I do!? Think, think!

“Well, here we are. Why don’t you take a seat?”

They arrived at a damp, lit room with an old dentist chair in the center. As his eyes stopped wandering he focused on his surroundings; rope, surgeon instruments, a camera in a tripod and two masked men. A faint chemical odor, with an accentuated iron pungency, lingered inside. Dried bloodstains covered the walls and ground. His heart-rate shot straight up, scratching his own limits, adrenaline pumped into his system. They muzzled him with an old piece of cloth after they had strapped him to the chair.

No! No! This can’t be happening!

Then it spoke. A voice he hadn’t heard in years.

[Can’t it? If I remember correctly, you did it too.]

Its face clouded in darkness remained hidden, but its figure, of a ghost long past, strolled around the room.

It was business! I was ordered! Fuck you, I had no choice! It’s a fucking shark infested world!

[Judgment is here.]

Fuck you and fuck your judgment! I don’t deserve this! Damned shit life! Fucking gods!

“Did he faint Gallo?“

“Nah.”

“Or this is one tough mother fucker or he’s just in shock.”

“At least he hasn’t pissed himself.”

“Give me the syringe. A good cocktail for our best friend here. We wouldn't want him to pass out on his life’s most important moment. Would we?”

The men cracked up while injecting his arm with whatever compounds they managed to fit in.

Drugs are coming... Fuck! It’s just a nightmare. I’m going to wake up soon. Everything’s going to be alright!

[Pain is coming and we deserve all of it.]

Fuck you! And fuck this world. I don't deserve this shit! I had nothing to begin with! I fought to death for every single piece of attainment other people are born into! I had to kill just to ward off my own end. I was unwanted in this fucking world from the first moment I drew breath! How the fuck do I deserve this!? How?!

[No more excuses. Here it comes.]

Eh?

“And a piggy finger, off it goes!”

His right thumb digit flew away, an old rusty knife made it possible.

“Anmmmgghhhh!”

“Shut the fuck up!” the masked man, whom enjoyed his time working on such a quality piece of meat, shouted in a drug-fueled rage and promptly beat his unguarded head.

“Mmmck!”

“You’re not going to go one finger a time, right? Shit’s boring.”

“I was making sure our welcoming cocktail made effect. Now we get to have fun.”

My finger! Fuck these assholes! I’m going to kill these fucking shits!

“Hey! You fucking new cocksucker, don't stop recording. This is it!”

“The ax, hand me the ax!”

Motherfucker! Just do it quick!

The executioner took it, prepared his stance and in a rapid swing brought it down on top of the poor soul’s hand. The blow made a dry sound, he struck bone, but had swung it out of balance and only managed to cut half his victim’s hand. The ax dropped almost hurting the executioner himself. In an instant pain reached this wretched man’s mind, filling every dark corner with it. He tried his utmost not to show it, but if something ever makes consciousness flare up is pain. His contorted face betrayed his intention but he held in his screams. That he did.

“Mmmmppphhh!”

Aaahhh! Fuck! This motherfucker doesn't even know how to do it right! Fucking stings! Motherfucking amateurs!

“The fuck you doing, cut it right!”

“Ah... who cares, it’s just a mass of flesh at this point, does it matter if we do it right?”

“Fucking cokeheads. Give me that!”

The substitute approached head high, looking down on his failed comrade. He exhaled experience in the butchering profession and showed it by confidently standing before their captive, with both legs wide open, a steadfast posture and feet firmly planted while he raised both arms, ax included. He brought them down, and in a single swift action cut the man’s hand.

“Mmphh!”

“See, this is how it’s done.”

“We’ll have to edit some parts of it now... oh well.”

Fuck! My hand! It’s nothing, it’s nothing, I can still go on without it. Everything will pass... It fucking stings! Fuck!

[Are you trying to escape? The pain...? Reality?]

Aahh shit! Aaahh-

As the bound man tried to deal with rising pain and the shock of having his hand cut he didn’t see the substitute raising the ax again and bringing it down over his left ankle. Like a knife trough butter, his left foot was severed.

Aaahhhh! My foot! Burns like a motherfucker!

“Look at his face. Heh. The fear, the pain... it’s what I love, but to be fair this motherfucker is tough. Others would be drooling with spume right now.”

No hand, no foot... it’s... ... I can still go on living... I can still do things... they can be reattached if I go to a hospital soon enough...

[Has it occurred to you, inside that thick skull of yours, that maybe you are not thinking straight? I wonder...]

“Knife. No, not that one, the small one.”

The substitute held in his hands the correct tool for such a critical act.

“Learn this shit. First we get our knife under the chin... Don’t cut with too much strength. Nice and slow... taste it. You two, grab his head! Don’t let him move. Then we go all around his face...”

The masked men kept working on his face. With no conscious, no doubt, they toiled diligently. The substitute pulled his skin, cutting under it, inch by inch his skin detached from his face. The substitute had skinned half of it when he put down the knife and his hands held on to their victim’s loose skin.

Expectations.

“And then... you do it, like this!”

Met.

“Ammmrrgggghhhrrgghhhh!”

Aaahhhhh! Ahhh fuck! Aahhhhh! My whole face is on fire! Fuck! Ahhhh! Are they really going to-! Aahhhhh!

“Yeah... now that, he felt it for sure!”

They laughed.

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“You see pretty boy. You’re not so pretty anymore!”

The captured man contorted in his seat in between screams and spasms. Blood colored everything around him. A sharp pain came in waves but never left him, it increased so much his consciousness threatened to leave, but the cocktail they injected him with didn’t allow it. The poor man, now under the knife himself, always wondered as he gutted his enemies, what went through all those sorry fucks’ minds in their last moments while he mutilated and tortured them. Was it regret? Anger? Pain?

With blood emptying by the second, his face skinned and muscles exposed, pain rose to unbearable levels. His consciousness faded away. Not even drugs fended off this regression. He lost focus, his sight made out blurred shapes under a red tint. A masked man took his face’s skin, put it over and danced.

“Ta-dah! Who this? Me? You? I’m your worst fear motherfucker!”

They sneered at their captive and while laughter spread they performed a macabre ritual dance taking turns to wear his face skin.

Aahhh fuck this shit! I can’t! Is that.. my... ...

[Hey, don’t die yet! You gotta feel it... penance... punishment... judgment... Stay awake. Are you listening?]

He felt intermittent sharp spikes of pain but his mind kept receding. Everything became a blur. His consciousness eluded awareness and his life faded away.

There’s pain, nothing else, how long has it been... am I still alive? I feel less and less... a knife... yes I’m... alive... I can...

“Three hours and this motherfucker still lives.”

“Tough one.”

“But time’s up. Prepare the grand finale.”

A masked man grabbed a knife and lifted the victim’s blood soaked shirt exposing his stomach area. He then proceeded to drive it in and cut a horizontal line from one side to the other, gutting him.

Ah... a sharp stomach pain... am I sick...? I have to make an appointment... I wonder.... if....

His entrails spilled out and the last vestige of life escaped from his battered body.

“The light... the light...”

... ... ...

... and darkness remained.

*

Light. Again.

Bright enough he closed his eyes. It took a while for his sight to adjust. Was he alive after all? Had it been a dream? He felt no more pain.

“A dream...? A fucking nightmare!”

He heard footsteps, voices.

“Olaso kois plasdilk osril paslop pokkepr!”

A foreign language.

“Hey fucker who’s there!”

Concern filled him while he sat on the floor, bounded.

“Esahds daczes didrgef!”

“Hey!”

Despite his blurred vision and a confused mind he made out the approaching shape, a knife.

“Stay away! Hey you fucker! What the- Aaahh!”

“Gasue ksazui ujs opp! Sfoosdi kalik kidfaaso!”

Someone pushed the knife right into his chest going through flesh and bone alike.

“Aaarrghh!”

Ah shit! The pain! My chest... it’s exploding, ... can’t breath,.... calm down.. But... pain...!

Blackness engulfed him again.

*

Light came through a canopy of leaves keeping him shaded from a scorching sun. Covered in sweat his dried lips clamored for a drop of water.

What is happening? Nightmares? Visions?

“I.. can’t.. breath...”

Someones’ hand... around my neck....

“Who’s... there...? Motherfucker!”

He lowered his sights and saw a man asphyxiating him. He tried to break off but the man had him pinned down, his strength failed.

“Kiju iew quiko! Lajs donuj!”

Ahh I can’t... what the hell is happening?!

Again his consciousness departed.

*

Light again. A dirty brown tone invaded his sight. He laid over a cold and moist soil. Coming second, the fresh smell of wet soil. With his face against the ground and his hands tied behind his back, he struggled for freedom.

“Fuck! What is happening!?”

Footsteps.

Someone’ s coming.

Unknown language. Again.

“Oosxd jehffi okop dased. Luiljyse jamad dosf!”

“Fuck you! Speak a civilized language you fuckers!”

“Saghkosd! Defhrse nouimfad sodfig!”

The familiar silhouette of an old friend. Knife.

“Ahh! Fuck you! What are you-!?”

The man grabbed his head pulling it back exposing his neck.

“Fuck you, fuck this life and fuck the gods!”

From side to side his neck separated. Blood spilled.

“Arrgghhhh.h.h.....”

Pain.

Darkness.

*

Where am I? Is this hell?

... pain... only pain...

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