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I've Never Felt so warm by Gavin Wilson
 

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  • It was pitch black. It took five seconds of blinking for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moist air sent chills down my spine. I was merely wearing a short skirt and a sleeveless shirt. I let out a very shaky sigh, my breath completely visible as it billowed out of my mouth into the cold night air. At least I thought it was night. I realized I had no recollection of why I was here, how I got here or even what here was. From what I could tell, I was all alone and there were walls boxing me in at every turn. The dirt floor was moist against my bare feet. I looked around for anything that may be of use to me. Maybe a note; Anything that could hint to how and why I was wherever I was. In the corner, I noticed a small faint light peaking in. It reflected off of a shiny metal surface half buried in the ground. I slowly walked over to it, each breath I exhaled more shaky than the last. I bent down and pulled a small razor blade out of the dirt. "What in the he-"

    My thoughts were cut off by a sinister voice that echoed off of the surrounding walls. I didn’t think it was possible for me to get any colder, but the voice made every last hair on my body stand on end. The origin of the voice unknown to me, but the words struck a chord in my heart and my whole body froze. “In a few hours, you will freeze to death. You have three options: Kill yourself. End all the suffering and just get it over with. Or you could kill the man walking towards you.” I turned to find a large, dark figure making it’s way toward me from the opposite side of the room. How I hadn’t managed to notice him before, I don’t know. I cursed under my breath and looked around for some sort of escape.

    “You might want to act fast though. Your final option is to do nothing and let my friend here have his way with you. He has so many wonderful ways of making poor, helpless victims scream.” I could almost hear the diabolical smirk the voice wore as he said that final sentence. I began to panic as the figure grew closer. He had knives and daggers across his waist, nails and bolts filled his coat pockets. I tried to scream, to call out for help, but all I could manage was a small squeak as I gasped for air. I could feel the his hand grip my throat tighter and tighter with each second. He slid a serrated knife from his belt and slid the blade across my face, teasing me with horrifying taunts of pain and torture. Ah fuck, I thought. This is it. I gripped my fists together and squeezed the razor until it cut my into my soft skin.

    My instincts took over as I remembered the item I had found in the dirt. I slit his wrist open and forced him to drop me back on the ground. I could feel his warm blood drip down onto my face. The sensation was overwhelming and I lost control of my actions. While he tried to recover from the pain, I went for the knife. After a second long skirmish, I was able to cut the knife out of his hand. Without hesitation, I took the knife and let all my fear and rage work into his skull. In my frenzy, I sliced open every inch of his limbs and bathed in the steaming, red liquid that was pouring out of him. I threw his monstrous trench coat over my pale, cold body. I rubbed the bloodied blade all over my face and smiled wildly. I’d never felt so warm.
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