There he was, standing under the flickering white washed fluorescent light. ‘Agony’ had planned this for years. Knife in hand he walked down the desolate corridors where ‘he’ lived. Slowly dragging his knife on the walls, he licked his lips, muttering to himself, “Today I will make you taste your own blood. ‘Failure’, your life ends here.”

Agony kicked the door down to find a terrified ‘Failure’ masturbating to cheap pornographic magazines. Failure roared in anger as he pulled up his trousers, “What the fuck are you doing?!?!”

But that anger was quickly diminished as ‘Agony’ raised his knife. Like fire dipped into the ocean, Agony could see the fiery malice in his eyes displaced by a pleading cry of mercy.

Dear journal,

I loved every moment of it. When that knife sunk into his bowels, I could feel my soul being set free. Every stab was like breaking the chains of isolation, one by one. I couldn’t let him die so easily. He needed to suffer for all the pain he’s caused.

I’m really glad I bought that surgical kit. That diamond tipped scalpel was amazing. It felt like that there was no friction as I sliced his skin away, almost as if I were waving the scalpel in the air.

I don’t think I went too far. Although I do admit removing ALL of his skin was a tedious task but it was definitely worth the trouble. Trying to avoid as many blood vessels as possible wasn’t easy I might add. It would have been pointless for him to die so prematurely due to blood loss.

I want him to know what a vile creature he is. Underneath that skin. And also what it feels like to literally get under someone’s skin. Dousing mild concentrated acid on his bare dermis was necessary. Without a doubt.

I loved slashing his face. His sobs irritated me but it was somewhat beautiful, in an atypical way. I may be delusional but it seemed like he was crying blood! That’s probably wishful thinking and as poetic as that sounds that probably isn’t the case.

But one can dream can’t he?

“Agony”