To my victim...

I do not torture because of skin or wealth, I do not torture because I do not like your ways of life, it’s not who you married it’s not who you loved or slept with. I do it for the story. My work is a necessary evil. Just as taxidermists or doctors are important to life I am as well. If it were not for me you would not understand what it’s like to be not tortured. You’d simply go without knowledge and be as dull as day.
As I slice open your left eye you scream but do you scream from pain or from loss of a valuable thing such as sight? When I cut off pieces of your flesh and nibble on them do you cry because you are missing pieces or do you cry because of your current situation. Are you actually in pain or has that small sense of euphoria kicked in that allows you to suffer but at the same time that is all you do. Has your mind began to fracture? Has each part of your mind taken a piece of this trauma and locked it away deep inside you?
Pressure. That’s all need be applied. Lots of it all compressed to your chest until I hear the cracking of a few ribs. The sound fills my ears and I wander if it’s because you’ve stopped fighting? We’ve been at this for hour’s sweetie you are taking so long. Why, why is it you fight back so courageously? I haven’t heard you speak since I used the bullwhip yesterday. The lashes on your back are the size my forearm. Maybe if you survive one day you will find love. Oh what a story… to be mended back to life after being broken of everything you are. You asked me why I steer clear of the face. Simply because we cant have you looking ugly when the capers come in and take your innocence.