A man in, let’s say his late 30’s, comes to. He looks around, trying to figure out where he was. He tries to sit up, but the restraints on his wrists and ankles keeps him where he was. He struggles against them, crying out for help. I guess he’s not the man he was when he beats his wife every night. I chuckle to the thought of hanging him by his entrails.
“Who’s there?” the man asked. It snapped me back to now, with him still strapped to the table. “Come out here you fucker and face me like a man!” I smiled at what he said.
“Now my friend,