I could lie to you and tell you I stood firm. That I held my tongue like a man and showed no emotion. That I withdrew within myself like one of those Buddhist monks who had set themselves on fire and simply accepted their fate.

  But that would be a lie.

  I felt pain, oh, I felt it alright; my head bucked and snapped back as Mr X’s fist drove into the fleshy parts of my body, as he punched my face, punched my liver, punched my stomach. I did the best I could in holding back my grunts of pain, but as time went on those grunts became louder and louder until they turned into screams. I tried to hold back the pain I was feeling by biting my lip until it bled, but Mr X was an expert in delivering punishment.

  He was an artist and I his canvas.

  When I thought the pain couldn’t get any worse he proved me wrong.

  Dragging over a small square table with a chipped metal top, he unrolled a canvas bag on top of it and zipped it open. I didn’t want to look at what was inside but I couldn’t help myself. Light from the shitty overhead bulbs reflected off something metal.

  One by one he slowly pulled out his instruments of joy.

  Hammers, saws, clippers, needles, metal clamps… and on and on it went.

  “You know, maggot,” he said drawing a needle across the metal table so it made me wince, “all this is unnecessary. The hammers, the metal clamps, the knives, all used by amateurs. You can make most people talk by using your own two fists; there are certain body parts you can attack just with these,” he showed me his hands, “that can do all the damage you need.

  “These are just for a bit of show. People like your boss don’t trust people like me when we say we don’t need all this shit, so we have to bring it along so we look like we know what we’re talking about. But honestly, it’s not needed.”

  “Does that,” I worked a loose tooth out of my mouth and spat it on the floor, “does that mean you won’t be using them?”

  “Oh no, no, I have to show these devices have been used otherwise I may not get paid and he may not believe the information you gave me is correct.”

  I looked at him in disbelief.

  “I know. Fucked-up world we live in when you can’t even trust the word of your torturer.”

  Without warning, he slammed the needle he had into the meaty part of my shoulder, which forced a primal scream out of my body that left me feeling light-headed.

  I dry heaved, taking in big gulps of air while I tried not to look at the piece of metal sticking out of my shoulder. My shoulder felt like it was on fire.

  “That’s it, breathe. Come on, breathe. Stay with me,” he said, getting within inches of my face.

  I tried to do as he said as the pain slowed to a dull ache.

  “See, that’s another problem with most people who do my job. They rush it. Always trying to get the information out as quick as possible so they can get paid and get laid. But I always say, maggot, if you can’t enjoy your work then what’s the point?”

  He delivered another punch to my solar plexus, which caused me to gasp for breath.

  “Please, stop, I—”

  Another needle to the other shoulder made me push myself violently backwards so I and the chair collapsed back. I hit my head on the floor and saw white dots but it did nothing to take away the pain coursing through my shoulder.

  “Cunt!” I said as I kicked and bucked on the floor, trying to distract myself from anything other than the pain.

  “Pardon?”

  Mr X grabbed the chair I was tied to by the seat and pulled me back up so I could face him. His salt and pepper hair was sleek with sweat and excitement. I could see nothing but his crooked nose, which pissed me off just staring at it. Oh, how I wanted to break it again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said panting heavily, “I’m sorry, that word should never be used. Never, ever, never.” I shook my sweaty face from side to side. “I should have called you a thundercunt or a shitcunt, or a—”

  He slammed a needle into the meaty part of my thigh, which nearly caused me to bite my tongue off.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, honestly I didn’t, but has anyone ever told you that your nose looks like a bent cock?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  He smiled at me and I knew I was in trouble. It made me shiver for what was about to happen, but I was tired of being someone’s plaything, tired of not having the strength to stand up to myself. When he punched me once, twice, three times in the dick I blacked out.

  I don’t know how long I was out for, but it was long enough for him to slap me in the face.

  “Hey, hey, sleeping beauty, wake up, we’re only getting started, sweetheart.”

  My head moved back and forth and I tried to focus on his face, which went in and out of focus.

  “Are you back with us, sleeping beauty?”

  I mumbled something through the pain that wasn’t even recognisable to my own ears.

  “How does it feel to know your life is just one big cliché?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, you were in a job you hate, a dead marriage, kids you were raising who weren’t yours and your boss was fucking your wife!” Laughter poured from his mouth that felt like acid on my skin, “I mean how more cliché and pathetic can you get? The only thing you need to finish this shitty story you call a life is two disappointed pushy parents who always wanted you to do better but you never could.

  “Man, your life sucks a fat phallus. I don’t know how you didn’t resist the temptation to blow your own brains out.”

  I said nothing as I hung my head in shame at his words.

  Had my life been that predictable? That easy to read? Didn’t I have more to offer? More to give?

  I had dreams; I wanted to do things, achieve things, but life had gotten in the way, I kept telling myself, and I had to be responsible. I couldn’t become the artist I wanted and also support two kids and a wife. I couldn’t take the risk of trying to make a name for myself in the art scene while my family suffered.

  But maybe all those thoughts were just excuses because I was too scared.

  Too scared to act. Too scared to do. Too scared to live.

  They say revelations happen to you in the weirdest places and mine had come to me bound naked to a wicker chair in a room I knew I would die in.

  I smirked through the pain then smiled, then chuckled, then laughed. I laughed and laughed until my stomach hurt and tears ran down my face.

  “What the hell are you laughing at, maggot?”

  “Just my life, it’s funny when you think about it.”

  “Funny, huh? Well, here’s something to laugh about.” He punched me repeatedly in the dick until I blacked out one more time. I came to with him tapping me on the face.

  “Ain’t you… going to ask your question?”

  “What question is that?” he asked.

  “Where I kept the data-stick?”

  He was so close to me all I could see was his dead lifeless eyes and smell his foul coffee breath.

  “I guess, but I’m having so much fun I don’t want it to end so soon. But okay, maggot, I’ll bite—where is the stick?”

  “It’s somewhere where I would like you to stick your nose.”

  He looked at me and smirked before punching me in the gut; I doubled over in pain while my stomach rumbled.

  “No, no,” I said, chin on my chest, “honestly it’s somewhere I know you would love to root around in, it’s got lots of hidden—”

  Another punch to the gut that caused me to stamp my feet in pain.

  “OK, OK, wait, wait, I’ll tell you where it is—I swallowed—”

  He punched me again with a three-piece combination that had me bring up blood; it was ejected from my mouth with force and landed on his shoe.

  “I’m trying to tell you what you need to know, you dickhead!”

  “Fine, tell me.”

  “It’s in my ass.”

  He looked at me sideways and gave me a raised eyebrow.

  “I swear to you! It’s in my ass!”

  A swift front kick to the stomach brought up more blood.

  “You think this is funny, Necktie? You think this is a laughing matter? Well, let me show you how we treat clowns.”

  What he did next… there were no words for the amount for pain that coursed through my body. Taking a needle from the metal table behind him he shoved it under one of my nails. The pain was all-consuming. It wrapped me in a blanket and refused to let go.

  I nearly lost my voice as I screamed at the top of my lungs, then did something I hadn’t done since I was a child.

  I shat myself.

  Nose wrinkled in disgust, Mr X took a step back from me and stared down his crooked nose at me. “Did you, did you, did you just shit yourself?”

  My head hung down on my chest. No longer caring, no longer wanting to continue on, I could hear his voice but it sounded far away as the pain turned down the volume around me.

  “I, I swallowed it,” I said just above a whisper.

  “What?” he asked, getting closer to me.

  “I….said, I swallowed it. When taken.” The words alone left me breathless as I felt hands lift my chin up.

  He stared into my face, then his eyes travelled down as he looked at the mess I had made of the floor.

  “You can fuck right off, maggot! If you think I’m digging in shit to look for some stupid data-stick you swallowed, you’ll just have to get your hands dirty and see if you can find what Gregory wants, because there isn’t a hope in hell he pays me enough to look through shit.”

  A knife appeared in his hands and he cut the rope that bound my hands and legs together.

  I didn’t move. All I could feel was pain.

  “Hey!” he said, kicking me in the shin. “It’s time for you to get up and get to work, this thing won’t find itself.”

  I still didn’t move, eyes half-closed, as he approached me and grabbed me roughly by the chin.

  “I said—”

  I moved with a speed and strength I didn’t know I still had. It was born from the simple act of survival. From the fact that if I didn’t move now, then my fate would be sealed, that once again a decision would be made for me as to how I lived and ultimately how I died.

  My hand darted forward and I embedded the finger with the needle sticking out of it in his eye up to the knuckle.

  His mouth formed a small O of surprise as I grabbed the back of his head and kept on pushing my finger forward until it couldn’t go any further.

  I had expected him to struggle, to fight back, but he didn’t. He stared at me in surprise as if I had turned into a mystical creature before his very eyes and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  I kept hold of the back of his head while I gritted my teeth like a pit bull locking onto its prey.

  I locked eyes with his one remaining good eye and I refused to look away until the light from it faded. Pulling my finger out of his eye socket with a wet suction-like noise I allowed his body to fall to the floor.

  I looked behind me at the mess I had created and knew what I had to do before I escaped. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to.