Who is my executioner?

An internal struggle. Or external. However you wish to interpret it.

I take in a sharp breath of freezing cold air, and my lungs wince. The air feels like nails and my hairs stand up on end. 

It's pitch black, and my f*****g head hurts.

I try to kick, but my feet are bound. I find that I am upside down. I try to scream, but no sound escapes my mouth.

I see a man approach me. Not a man, a boy. I can't make out who he is but he looks scared. Scared, but ready. He is shrouded in the shadows, but I feel his sinister aura lurk all around me. When he looks at me, it's like his eyes are crawling under my skin and laying waste to any sense of comfort I have left. 

He lays out tools on a table... tools that I only see for a split second before he lays them down. However, I know that I am going to become a lot more familiar with them. My executioner and I, we both know how this has to be, for this is something we both have agreed to. Though the arrangement is against my will...

...it isn't. 

I feel cold steel slash through my skin. I choke back the tears, there is much more to come. Another lash, and another. This is the way it has to be. With each lash, I become more familiar with the pain. It begins to feel a little comforting, because all the while, I know that I deserve it. This, this is what I get. This is where I belong. Pain is my home.

Let's go back a bit.

3 years, 2 months, 8 days, 12 hours and 2 seconds time.

When the world found out about my little secret.

No one was supposed to know, it was supposed to be me and the grim reaper's little secret. My resting place, the bathroom floor. For some reason, I pulled through, but not before I saw his face. Yes, his face. I looked death straight in the eyes. Though I welcomed it with open arms, it truly was a repulsive sight. Not because it was terrifying... not because it was finality and mortality in the flesh... it was repulsive because it was all that I couldn't have. Death was release, peace, nirvana. It was all that I had hoped for and more in life, but never had. I realized death is better than being alive. 

Death didn't want me at that time, I guess. Maybe I wasn't good enough.

Now back to the present.

The pain is so great that it almost feels surreal. My body has gone limp from the blows, my eyes are filled with my own dried blood. I can't even tell which direction the blows are coming from anymore, but they are coming faster than ever. I can't even feel anything anymore, I'm so used to the agony. I can see the end drawing near, and as it gets closer, I feel more and more at peace. I feel a familiar feeling... the feeling I felt years ago. The feeling of approaching the grim reaper's shadowy figure and making a bargain. 

My executioner breathes heavily, and it appears that the beating is over. He wanders over to his table where his tools are scattered about, and lays down his bloodied whips, hammers and knives. He pulls out his final tool... a saw.

The end is finally here.

Still suspended by my legs, I start to realize that the thoughts going through my head are the last thoughts I will ever have, so I ought to make them good. Then, the saw makes contact with the left side of my body and my executioner begins to saw me in half. 

It was then that I realized that I was not going to have good last thoughts, because in that moment, the only thoughts I had were of the agony I was going through.

I remain awake, even as he is halfway through me, because of all the blood rushing to my head. I kick as hard as I possibly can and scream at the top of my lungs, and my executioner softly speaks to me. He tells me that the end is near, and that this is what I wanted. This is what we wanted.

My body is only held together by a small piece of flesh now, and he stops. He lays down the badly mangled saw on the table with his other bloodied tools, then slowly approaches me, as if approaching a grave to pay his respects. As he kneels down, he says, "This is what we agreed to. This is what I did to myself, because I told myself to do it."

I look into my own blue eyes for the last time.

It's pitch black, and my f*****g head hurts.

Author's Note

Feel free to leave any constructive criticism you want, this is my first stab at writing. Tell me honestly what you think.