Reality

He chuckled mainiacly as he dragged her limp body onto the stone slab, binding her tightly. He had no need to gag her as he had already cut away her tongue and she'd only be capable of a few gurgling noises.

As her head whacked against the stone's cold surface her eyelids flickered open. She struggled but could not move. As she looked up she could see a masked figure glaring down at her. She watched disgusted as he lifted her tongue in the air and dropped it into a jar of maggots the figure held in his other hand and the tongue was instantly devoured. She turned away and vomited.

He watched as she cried and he smiled, they always cried. He hadn't even finished yet. He felt a shiver of excitement as he took a spoon from a drawer and inserted it under one of her eyes, then  slowly began to pry it upwards, severing the optic nerve with a satisfying pop and watched triumphantly as the blood spewed in every direction ... she screamed but somehow he caught hold of her very breath, sucking the very strength and energy from her body, until she was too weak to even blink. He felt a welcoming sensation of delight as he felt himself grow stronger, absorbing the life from her mutated body.
He looked up at the positon of the moon. Plenty of time yet.

She couldn't move. She couldn't scream. She could only feel pain. It was oppressive and she was helpless. It was as though there was an invisible force smothering her, squeezing away her strength. She was blinded, she could not hear, she just wanted to die.

Hardly able to contain himself, he tried to calm himself down. He mustn't get carried away. He wanted to keep her alive as long as possible, he wanted to enjoy himself. Trembling ecstaticly he took a knife from his draw and sliced an opening down the womans abdomen. Fascinated he gently removed each of her inner organs arranging them on the ground in a perfect anatomy, Inspecting each one with great care as the woman writhed and whimpered uncontrollably.

'How? How could anyone do such a thing? Why me? Why? He has cracked my bones, shaved my hair, peeled my skin, what more could he want? Why won't he just let me die? Oh please! I just want this to be over. I want to die.'

He was looking forward to what came next, but all the same felt a bitter sting of disappoinment that it was soon to come to an end. He took the knife, and opened her chest, and looked upon her beating heart. Relishing the moment, the flow of strong adrenaline pumping through his body, he finally took the knife and everso slowly cut through a little way down her throat, then a little way more, until eventually the heart stopped.

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He smiled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Adjusting his tie he waved merrily at the offices toilet cleaner and got ready to leave. He was going to the cinema with a co-worker tonight. Maybe he would make a decent night of it.