The room could barely contain the stench of blood and sweat. Inevitability had placed its firm grasp on the remaining victim, in the form of duct tape and rope.
Although gagged and bound, the boy's eyes still screamed desperation; his captor was captivated.
The man pondered the boy's thoughts as he stared him down, as he had done so many times before.
He relished the attentiveness he only seemed to receive in moments like this. His direct control over the boy's fate nearly brought him to a state of ecstasy.
"Michael," a hauntingly familiar voice resonated through the cellar.
The man was puzzled by the voice at first, but then decided that it was probably his mind getting the best of him. Without further deliberation, he decided to finally get started and headed over to the tool rack.
So many wonderful choices, the man thought to himself.
The rack contained many different types of saws, hammers, chisels and various other means for his amusement. After a quick look, he decided to go with his favorite: the rip saw.
"It'll all be over soon," said the man. "It won't be long until you're with your whore of a mother in hell."
The carving began.
The sound of flesh tearing and bones snapping did little to mask the muffled grunts of the boy. The man spared no sentiment and instead focused his attention entirely on his work. After what seemed like only a few moments, the boy's limbs were completely severed and ready for the maniac's next step.
There was no mistake; he'd definitely heard the voice again. He began to grow anxious and frustrated. This gave way to even more depraved thoughts, and the boy was sure to suffer even more because of them. The man left the room briefly and returned with a mirror; placing it directly in front of the boy. What was just slight consciousness suddenly became a gaze transfixed with horror. The man had never seen such big eyes, and was very pleased.
"You're welcome to leave now if you'd like, but I'd get going soon. You've lost a lot of blood."
The man removed the restraints and watched as the boy plopped down onto the floor. He was greeted with pain nearly matching what he just endured, as the floor was covered with bleach powder. The boy's eyes lit up; the pain seemed to make its way through his entire body. He didn't have much time.
"Michael?" "Michael?" "Michael?" the voice repeated.
The man continued to block out the voice in an attempt to finish what he'd started. He proceeded to the cabinet and took out the final tool; a sledgehammer. He walked over to the boy and swung.
The man snapped out of his trance, and his eyes immediately recognized a familiar pair just across the table.
"Michael honey, are you okay? You seemed a bit out of it."
"I-I'm fine. Just did a bit of daydreaming I guess."
"Just to make sure, you're still watching Chris tonight right? I still have that meeting at seven."
"Oh, sure. But I have something planned for the both of you before you leave; you know, in celebration for your new position and all."
"MICHAEL!?" the voice screamed.