"Closer/to/God"
He was shaking, oh so pleasantly. So sweaty, so intimate. I swear I could feel his heart beating in my hands. The pulse, the rhythm, it was something quite profound. I cherished these moments. His pupils had fully dilated. Good, now he was completely aware. He tried to scream. Cute. I gagged his mouth with duct tape and bound him to a series a piping in the room hours before. He wasn't going anywhere. Even if he slid out of those binds, with the amount of drugs I pumped in his system, he'd have the legs of a paraplegic. The weak have no where to run.
My back was toward him, preparing, salivating; imagining just how to perfectly execute what others would consider a "heinous act." I couldn't wipe the smile from my face. The possibilities, endless. This was my craft. And no craft was performed without the perfect song; "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. They're so brilliant and masterfully devious composers. For those unclear, allow me to paint a picture.433Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtapvQzoGd1
The hellish beat swells with absolute intensity, like a synchronized pulse looming, stalking, until it finally confronts you in a downward spiral...leaving you perfectly and utterly broken. 433Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYqOoMeyV1E
And the lyrics, the lyrics will truly inspire...433Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQBtaGLMpQl
You let me violate you433Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzL2whhUGry
You let me desecrate you433Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtCVdQsU5rE
You let me penetrate you433Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8eatoF61f0
You let me complicate you
Wonderfully ironic isn't it? The imagery was too hard to ignore.
With words so poetic and hauntingly beautiful, it's hard to imagine where they drew an inspiration. I personally like to believe they have my demons to thank. That's the crucial difference between them and I...I'm not an artist...not quite like them anyway...
I'm a redeemer. I redeem the subjugated by providing what this world needs; a moral cleansing. And I will give it to them. The government won't do anything to contain this inhumane disease. It's and epidemic, and it's spreading. I promise, by the time they see what I have done, how I've chosen them and carefully executed every opportunity to the letter, they will know the pleasure....of life.
Persecution is the sickness. It's a leash for those who wish to roam free. But I am always watching , planning, waiting, because their whole existence is flawed. I will make it right. One day the sadists and their like minded fetish scum will fear every waking breath, never knowing which one will be their last. It's a beautiful thing. So memorizing, hypnotizing. Haunting. Only for them. These souls are born for suffering. If sin is the question, I am the answer.
Sorry. I'm getting a little ahead of myself.
I didn't have to tell him why he was here. A picture of the young girl he defiled would do the job. I almost wished he could see my face, but I do my work best when I'm in the dark. It makes the finished art that more human; which is far from perfect. The most difficult part is isolating the prime tool to inject quality pain. My favorite; a rusty blade. The infection will run through the body much faster, effortlessly and without restrain. It's really something quite breathtakingly beautiful.
I approach him, slowly. He trembles and begins to cry, begging for me to stop. But I won't, because he didn't. He didn't stop when she cried out in pain. I can only promise to do to him what he did to her. It won't be fast, but it will be painful. We'll both enjoy it and I will savor every expression that mutates his face to that of a scared little child. The final thing thing he'll hear is not the laughter from my own device, no, it will be the soothing sound of me polishing my knife after I've carved him.
My biggest regret...
Not hearing him scream.
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