Darkness enveloped the cold room. Far away, the man heard water slamming against the floor. The man saw nothing, heard nothing else and was overwhelmed by a gripping sense of terror. Leather restraints secured his ankles and wrists to the cold slab of metal that he found himself on.
His memory reached back to the day, week or month prior. He had no idea how long he'd been strapped to this contraption. He remembered rummaging for his cars keys in the parking lot of a local grocery store, just before sensational pain knocked him unconscious. With the presence of this memory, his cranium began to throb.
A rapid cadence pierced the silence. Perhaps it had been feet falling against the floor, perhaps taps on a far away door, perhaps light snaps of nearby fingers. The man could not be sure. His fear paralyzed him, choking the air from his lungs, starving him of logic and rationality. The noise became tauntingly louder as it continued to drone on, relentlessly.
Squirming in panic, he heard the fait breathing of a nearby someone. The man's voice could not meet his lips. He felt an oncoming scream, but he never heard it.
Surprisingly, a dim light flicked on above him, casting an eerie glow onto him and his small area. Before adjusting to the light, he found himself temporarily blind. Then the light was blocked by the shadow of a head. The man saw nothing of the face, due to the white light shining behind the shadow.
In his peripheral vision, the man noticed a small sliver of silver shimmer. Not a second was wasted before the man felt a rough slice through his forearm. The skin tightened as the man resisted. Even as he saw the bright blood spurt and bubble past the sawing blade and even when pale bone revealed itself, the man couldn't scream.
The man persistantly writhed in pain, with chimerical hopes of escape. This benefitted in no way. Soon he noticed a space between to two sections of his arm, one connected to his body and the other forever separated.
He realized he had no control over his left hand or wrist. It's gone, he thought. The shadow moved to his right side and repeated the procedure. Valiantly the man fought, this only increased the pain. Pain pulsed through his viens. Never before had the man felt so helpless.
Familiar pain sprang through his thigh. The only sound was the feirce tearing of flesh as the serated blade sawed further. After what seemed like hours later, his leg was finally detached and the figure moved toward his final limb.
Slower than previously, the blade sliced precisesly and swiftly. By then, the torturer had gained an appreciation for his work and seemed to slow even more with each twitch and wince of his victim.
In the man's final moments, a single tear escaped his eye. He watched the shadow of the blade, in a deathgrip, plunge deep into his chest. An ear-peircing cackle erupted through the room and the man's breath hissed out of his lips, escaping from his lungs.