Danish Raza Mir
*****************
We are in my torture cell, with two poor souls helplessly tied to chairs. They tried to plead for mercy, but I was beyond reason. My anger burned hot as I thought of how these two fuckers had dared to lay a hand on my sweetheart.
I grabbed my trusty dagger and plunged it into one of the men's eyes, relishing in the sickening squelch as I pulled out his eye socket. The other man screamed in terror, knowinghe was next. But I wasn't done yet.
With a sadistic grin, I took a whip and began to lash at their bare skin, leaving red welts and deep cuts behind. I wanted them to feel the pain and fear that they had inflicted on my beloved.
They begged for mercy, but I showed them none.
Then I moved on to more gruesome methods of torture. I heated up metal rods and pressed them onto their skin, branding them with my rage and hatred towards them. As they writhed in agony, I couldn't help but laugh at their suffering.
But my anger still wasn't satisfied. I took out a pair of pliers and began to pull out their teeth, one by one, relishing in their screams and cries for mercy. They were broken and bloodied, but I still wasn't done with them.
I continued to beat and torture them, my mind consumed by the thoughts of how they had dared to even look at my sweetheart. She was mine, and no one was allowed to touch her, let alone make her cry. I wanted them to suffer for every tear that she shed because of them.
Finally, when I was satisfied with their suffering, I left them in the torture cell, broken and bloody. They would never touch my sweetheart again, and if anyone else dared to cross me, they would end up just like these two sorry souls. No one messes with what is mine.
As I left the cell, my mind was consumed with a ferocious anger. I made my way towards my home bar, my hands trembling with fury. I grabbed a bottle of Budweiser and began to drink, the cold liquid offering a brief respite from the burning rage inside me.
Ripping of my coat and unbuttoning the first three buttons of my shirt, I collapsed on to the ground, my mind replaying the horrific scene that had unfolded on the street.
How dare they lay their dirty hands on her? How dare they make her cry? My thoughts were consumed with revenge, my blood boiling with a thirst of vengeance. I downed three bottles of wine in quick succession, the alcoholic haze fueling my obsessive desire to make them pay for what they had done to her.
In a rage, I smashed the bottles on the ground, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. But it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to see them suffer, to beg for their own deaths.
I paced back and forth, my mind racing with thoughts of torture and pain. They would pay for their actions, and they would pay dearly. I grinned maniacally with a twisted satisfaction.
In my mind, I could already see the fear in their eyes as I inflicted unspeakable horrors upon them. It wouldn't be enough to simply kill them. No, I needed them to suffer, beg for death as I had been watched my loved one suffer.
And I would make sure that their screams of agony echoed in my mind for eternity, a constant reminder of the price they paid for harming the one I loved. I would have my revenge, and it would be sweet.
_______________________________________
Have a nice day🤗🤗
Allah hafiz 💕💕