A Bloody Chair

How did you know? I asked, not sure I wanted the answer. I thought I’ve been careful, I thought she…

would never be able to break me. I looked over myself seeing everything again for the first time. I was tied to a wooden chair with wet leather straps my feet were in a metal pan of water my head hung loose sweat and blood dripping from my face and hair. They were cuts all along my body. One of my hands was wrapped in a bloody rag hiding the amount of damage. I could see burn marks running along the sides of my ribs. As I looked over my ruined and bloody body I slowly came aware that I didn’t feel any pain. Looking over myself I felt the strangest sensation as if I was looking over a stranger. I was shocked by the fact I barely recognize the body as my own. I delicately tried to move the leg. The leg sled just a fraction. The ankle was also tied to the chair when I was able to move my leg I could see the smear from the puddle of blood that I was apparently sitting in. Still there was no pain. I looked up to my tormentor a smile of satisfaction crossed her face.
“How did you know?”  I asked again.
“It’s my job to know these things. I know exactly what you are. I know how to make you talk. I know how to make you bleed. I know how to kill you. And I know how to make your last few hours on this earth the most painful. Your life is almost over and all that’s going to be left of you will be an example for the others. Now please forgive me I have work to finish.”

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