Master of violence

Pain mingled with my soul and they became familiar with each other. My soul got addicted to the stings and the pain found a friend in me. I was locked in for nineteen years, tortured, humiliated and abused.

The damp corners and dry wrists were the reality I couldn’t escape. I lost the will to dream about getting out. My cold sweat was burning from my hot skin that is harmed and bruised.

I was only able to sleep when I’m ordered, I ate what I was given. I woke up not knowing what time of the day it was, or if it was daytime even. I wouldn’t know. I lost control along with hope and I became full of fears.

The need to control and be controlled, the need to give in and take over. I have my needs but they include my free will. To be prisoned in there for time that I lost the sense of it was the psychological pain, that and the sound of the beating, the chains and the whips.

The plaints filled that lonely place, I was in there … I was in there … My heart wanted to quit on me most of the time. I couldn’t breathe when I broke and I couldn’t do a thing to get my freedom or to prevent those rosy flesh marks.

Till I was finally released to the outer world … That was after almost two decades of my life, gone and wasted. Not knowing that I was trained to be one of them. I got it all out, the suppression. It was my turn to control and take over. My freedom came with a new identity and secretiveness.

No part of me shall be locked in anymore. I shall see the light and the light shall see me but it will never break through my dark side whom I fear the most. Love and punishment are two separated matters. However, the joy that rushes in my veins like a drug makes me feel like a lion toying with a deer between his claws.

Beg me for mercy, get out of my way, don’t look me in the eyes and don’t speak because I only want to hear my own steps feeding fears inside you and the thumbing of your confused heart. To see that fragile stare, to look at you shudder and to feel you near my feet where you should be, where you belong, where I have been.

Not knowing how much time I have left, I have to make the best of it. For the fun,the pain that comes with crawling pleasure and for the burning desire to put them through the poisonous experience. Here’s to taming, domestication and the urge to corrupt the submissive innocents.

One thought on “Master of violence

  1. An atmospheric, elegant piece, a more delicate, intriguingly nervous piece of pulp thriller.
    This existential nail-biter is both, brutal and lyrical, with a thrillingly grim tone.
    It’s mesmerizing and discomfiting, engaging readers on a visceral and an intellectual level.
    well penned…

    If you’ve time, read my latest short story and leave a feedback if possible:

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