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Ad: By: Arnold Bustillo
I awoke to the sensation of another needle being pressed into my body, my upper right arm this time. The pinch was quickly followed by the spreading coolness of whatever chemical they were using to make me numb. Before too long, just like before, it became impossible for my brain to communicate with my remaining digits. I turned my head to watch them unshackle my wrist, my remaining wrist. "Won't be needing that anymore, Jack!" I exclaimed, with a sarcastic and twisted grin. Gruesome chuckles escaped my throat, and tears rolled once again down my cheeks. It made no difference. Laugh, cry, or scream, my captors remained quiet - stoic. When they took my first leg, I screamed. I screamed and I screamed until my screams became weak and raspy whispers. There was no pain. Their injections and IV drips of god-knows-what ensured there was no physical pain, but the injections did nothing to assuage the internal horror as I was forced to watch my captors work. The raspy screams lasted for hours, I think. I was in and out of consciousness, and each time I came to, I started my raspy screaming all over again as I watched what they did with the limb that was formerly my leg. In one corner of this dungeon was a small kitchen, complete with oven, stove, and refrigerator. Between the periods of unconsciousness, I watched as my two captors prepared my flesh. They chopped off my foot at the ankle and tossed it into a nearby waste bucket - too tough and bony I imagine. The leg from the thigh to below the calf was then skinned, and the internal bones and tendons were yanked with swift ripping and pulling motions out the top. These pieces were also discarded. When they were left with just the meat, they started slicing and fileting. Strips of flesh were removed from my limb and cooked like flank steaks in a greasy pan. I saw as vegetables and dashes of wine were thrown in. The smell of dinner filled the air. In the other corner of the room was a small dining table, just big enough for my two captors to share their gruesome cuisine. After having their fill off my flesh, I caught glimpses of my captors storing their leftovers, carefully wrapping the bits of me they did not eat in thin tin foil, writing on the foil in Sharpie - prep dates I presumed - before stacking those foil bricks alongside foil bricks which appeared to be in the freezer already, a clear sign that I was not the first unfortunate soul to find myself trapped in that living hell. I don’t know how much time elapsed between the taking of my first leg and the taking of my second, but when they came for my second leg, I begged and pleaded. I offered them money, every penny I had, if only they would let me go. It was the most pathetic act of groveling I had ever performed, but given the circumstances, I think I could be forgiven. My captors remained unmoved. Like before, I watched as they skinned, de-boned, and fileted. When they came for my first arm, I wept mostly to myself. By that point I had come to the realization that there was nothing I could say or do, nothing I could give, that would make them let me go. Their only desire was to destroy me, to reduce me to cuts of human beef, piece by piece. When my second arm was gone, there was no more need for the shackles. I was immobilized by the sheer lack of arms and legs, reduced to a brain in a skull and not much else. By this point I thought they would be done with me. Ready to put a bullet in my head and to toss my armless, legless remains in a ditch somewhere. I was wrong. They sawed off my pecs and my glutes. They cut out my tongue and scooped out my eyeballs. Did you know you can still cry without eyeballs? Sure can. If you’re on your back, the tears just sort of pool in the sockets. It’s a strange sensation, but tilting the head from side to side will mostly drain a vacant eye socket. With my eyes gone, I only had the smell of cooking flesh and the sound of a sizzling pan to let me know that my captors were still feasting. Maybe it was because I’d only been fed liquid meal supplements since my time in captivity started, or maybe it's because the loss of my eyes had boosted my sense of smell, but dare I say, my cooking flesh actually reminded me of the expensive steak dinners I used to enjoy. Appetizing. Mouth watering. Yes, you can salivate without a tongue as well. In the quiet darkness that surrounded me I waited for the sensation of a knife digging into my scalp, followed by a saw cutting into my skull. After everything else that had been taken, I did not think it out of the question that they would also want my brain. A final act of degradation that would finally allow me to escape this torment by way of death. But they never came for my brain. They left my skull and brain intact, and introduced me to an end worse than I could have imagined. One minute my body was floating in the numbness of whatever meds they were pumping into my IV, and the next minute I felt myself upside down and doubled over. I was being carried over someone’s shoulder. My weak and shredded body jostled on the broad shoulder of my captor, and I heard the ground change beneath his feet. First I heard muffled, scratching steps, as we moved up what must have been stairs of stone or concrete. Then I heard light slapping steps, the sound of feet moving over kitchen floor tiles, perhaps. The following steps were light and scratchy, as if we were moving over gravel. I registered a coolness around my body, and imagined I was being carried over an outdoor walkway or garden path. Instinctively, I started to struggle, as if I would be able to go anywhere if I could somehow wriggle away from my captor. He only tightened his grip, pulling me harder into his shoulder. Then the footsteps became slow, wet, and sloshy. All of a sudden, I felt myself falling backwards, landing on a pile of something that felt wet and muddy against my back. Then I heard my captor’s footsteps begin to slowly plod away from me. Was that it? Was I finally discarded? Was he going to come back with a bullet for my head to end my misery? The tears began to pool in my empty sockets again as I heard the sounds of snorting - sickening, excited snorting. My captor was not returning to put me out of my misery, I was going to be allowed to wallow in my misery for as long as my strength would allow. The snorting got closer and closer, it grew more and more excited, more and more intense. I may have been born a well-to-do city boy, but even I could tell that I had been discarded in a rural pig pen. I screamed again. With my physical senses still mostly dulled, the worst part was the intensity of the sounds, listening as my remaining flesh was ripped and chomped by the gnashing teeth of farm animals. My limbless body was jerked and jostled as the jaws of at least three or four hogs ended what my captors had started. The very last memory I have of my life in the physical world was the intense smell of pig shit that assaulted my nostrils. Though certainly a minor inconvenience compared to everything else I had experienced, it was a cherry of a detail that no true storyteller could forget to mention. Ad:
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