Page 8 of Burning Souls

Red.

“Run, run as fast as you can.” I snicker, as I know there isn’t any form of escaping me.

“Oh, that’s right, you can’t run.” I smirk as I go over, ripping another piece of duct tape off and placing it over his mouth, muting him like he did to the women.

“I warned you what would happen if you didn’t behave and now look at what you have done.” My finger rests on my lips as I pull my bottom lip down, looking at the man screaming into the tape.Pathetic.

“You know, I have killed many people. I have shot people, stabbed, cut out eyes and organs, but what will I do with you? Maybe I will do all of it until your body is nothing but ash. Maybe I will cut your heart out and save it for a meal later.”

The man’s eyes are bloodshot with trepidation. He knows he won’t get out alive. I have this execution all planned out, and I plan to take my sweet time with him. After all, I’m here to offer a service.

“Should I start with carving you open, taking your organs out, then your liver, and then your heart, or should I shoot you and get it finished, use acid? Choices, choices, choices.”

My room is my safe space. It’s dark inside, with black walls and an off-black wooden floor. I have a chair in the middle of the room, stained with blood from the people who have died in this place. Their spirits always go to hell. I make sure of it, or I haven’t done my job.

My phone goes off, taking me out of the routine I was about to begin. Jessie messaged me with the details for next week.

I silence my phone. I have a table on which I spread all my objects out for now. I have two handguns, three knives, a chainsaw I’ve still yet to use, and a bottle of acid that I’ve also still yet to use.

I take another two strips of the tape and position them over the man’s eyelids. I don’t need to see his eyes as I do what I am about to do.

“When I’m done, your evil spirit will be in hell.” I chuckle as I pick up the chainsaw, pressing the button to turn it on. I hover over the man’s soft dick; his chest is racing up and down faster the closer I get, before I take the chainsaw to the man’s balls andsaw them off. Blood splatters up the walls on me, on him, and all over my other tools as I go to the tip of the man’s dick, sawing off from the tip in an upward motion, splitting his dick in half.

Splat.

Splat.

Splat.

A smile coils at my mouth as I see the man’s breathing slow down. He was barely even here, or maybe he passed out.

Taking the still-turned-on chainsaw, I aim for his leg, sawing it from the knee. As more blood seeps out, I do the same thing with the other leg.

I turn the blood-soaked chainsaw off, placing it back on my table. I take a knife, open his chest, and watch his exposed heart pulsing ever so slowly. Placing my hand on his heart, I rip it from him and watch as it beats for its final few moments in my hand. The body will shut down. I plan on letting him hang there until he is no longer here. As for the heart, I place it on the table, drawing my knife and stabbing it over and over until it no longer beats. My table is covered with a piece of this man’s heart, and if I’m being honest, it isn’t the nicest sight.

Walking over to the man’s limp body, I undo the cuffs as he falls to the blood-filled floor. He has nowhere to go, his legs beside him and his dick just lying there. I stare at the mess, knowing Sean and Tobias will come along and get rid of the body, burying it where no one will find it. Though if they did find it, I’d happily tell them it was me.

Some days,I wish I could leave this place. I’m not a prisoner, but I'm sure they are watching me. They will catch me as soon as I step outside on my own, and I'll be right back in the basement.

The cold floor. My wrists are in shackles.

A man stands in the corner like a shadow, watching me struggle. My first instinct is to fight. I kick and scream. It’s no use. The figure is gone. I'm left alone, hanging with my hands in cuffs. I'm alone in a place I don't know, waiting for the person, the very thing that keeps me awake at night. The devil who will strip me of my title of being a human, after that, all I will be is broken into pieces, covered in stitches, and fractured bones, and no one will ever love me. Not even my own father did so why would another man want a broken used-up whore. No amount of glue could stick me back together. I’m too fucked up to be loved and cared for.

It's been about two months since I was confined to this basement, but I have no way of knowing. I’m fed three meals a day, washed, and clothed. I haven’t been hurt. So really, I'm confused why I’m held captive down in this basement. I may not have been hurt physically, but mentally, if I were given the chance, I would drown myself, but then I'm never left alone. I was robbed of any independence when I came here. He's with me when I shower, when I eat, even when I sleep. I don't take a breath without him lurking around the corner, watching, waiting to see if I will try to get out. It's no use. I'm stuck here and I won't ever be free.

Slowly, I have been given more things. I'm no longer handcuffed or hanging. I have a blanket, even two cushions.

He hasn’t spoken a word to me or shown me his face. He wears a mask and gloves all the time. The more time I spend here, the more he lurks around the corner. He says he's giving me my independence back in little steps, but he’s lying. I know he's just seeing if I still want to leave. Of course I do, but I tried,and even if I was to make it out the door, how many guards would be standing waiting, and then would I get outside and feel safer back down there, away from my father?

I have lost count of the days being down here. I got to see his face, but only a glimpse. He’s older than me, much older.

I tried to look at some of the man's facial features. It wasn't successful, but I did see a tattoo of a raven on his right shoulder. He is big compared to the men I have been around. He kind of intimidates me in a good way, if there even is one. I noticed the wrinkles forming on his skin and the texture, but I didn't get to see anything else before he was gone.

Last night, he let me lie on him and fall asleep, seeing as I haven't been sleeping, which is normal considering I’m in a basement with a thin mattress, two thin cushions, and one blanket, if I dare call it that. But he stayed with me, letting me lie on his chest.

My body became relaxed as he tickled me to sleep. I woke to the cold breeze that came before the door. The door I have tried countless times to escape. I have nothing to smash it with or pick the lock. I’m not even sure it has a normal lock.

I’m wholly trapped, but no longer in a rush to leave. This place is the quietest place I have been to.

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