Between screams you attempt to profess your innocence, but I know the truth. Why won’t you confess? There is just the two of us here, both with knowledge of your crimes, and yet you admit nothing. You endure needless torture. Why? I do not understand.
I draw back the sledge hammer, and prepare myself for the next blow. You cringe like an injured animal, watching with scared eyes as the worn steel head reaches its apex. Reluctantly I hold the tool in place. My muscles burn as my eyes search for your weakness. For the small flaw that will help me stop this barbaric and monstrous act. I can taste the bitterness of your fear on my tongue like aged liquor. Yet, even when faced with death, or disfigurement you remain silent, keeping your secrets hidden.
The hammer falls. Your screams are loud and echo in the confined space of the dark garage, but they are nothing compared to the sound of your bones breaking, snapping like twigs underfoot. My heart writhes with pain and confusion. Why not confess! My eyes begin to water, and tears flow down my cheeks. Why are you making me do this? Let the truth slip from your lips like water flowing down stream, and all this would cease. Let the words echo in this private place of ours, and I will let the hammer fall to the concrete. I step closer and pull the metallic tape from your lips in one quick motion, revealing the corners of your lips turned up in a smile.
Now I understand, now it all makes sense. I raise the hammer again. My reluctance burning away like a leaf catching fire, fueling the anger rising up from a dark place deep inside of me. A place where mercy does not exist. A place where your pain and my pleasure are one of the same.
Mile 29 