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Bathed In Pain
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The hooks pass easily through her skin and into the muscle. She squirms a little, but she is trussed to tight to move much. She rather reminds me of a catapillar, cocooned in filthy rags. I can only see one of her eyes, the other is around here somewhere, but I'm no longer sure. The flickering of the firelight makes it hard to see, makes it hard to think. She cannot scream, but she makes a horrified gargling noise. It's the only option she is left with. I smile, trying to encourage her to see the lighter side of the situation. But she doesn't respond. The blood has left black tracks down her bonds. From here it kind of looks like a roadmap to somewhere else. Briefly I pause to wonder where one might end up, if one was to follow such a map.
Around my feet are the rest of the bodies, all broken and limp. She is the last of them. I think I will try to make her last the longest.
The thought makes me smile.
I carry on.
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