Chapter 1

I... am Azreal. I have something I need to tell you. Whomever you are, something that I no longer wish to keep inside myself, hidden in the darkness. What I must say is dismal, something horrifying and will have you question what it is you hold even in your self. If that dark desire is just fleeting moment or if is who you truly wish to be.

Rage is a natural response for me. Filled with such anger that there is nothing but the focal point my rage. The desire to  obliterate it and leave it nothing more than a quivering mass of flesh and bone. The desire to cause intolerable pain and suffering, so that their agony can fuel my simple creature enjoyment.

Nearly all the of time I want to kill someone for some reason and I want to see their blood flowing from their veins. I need to hear them cry in pain as I feel their flesh tearing within my jaws. To feel the flow of crimson along my own skin as it seeps out of their body. Hearing their cries for mercy and for it to stop simply encouraging my desires to fully sate my beast within. The inhumane actions means nothing to me as it excites my mind, creating a frenzy to consume and drink of their flesh.

No, I relish in the actions of their torture. Finding my target, subduing them and pulling them to the location where no one will hear them scream or my cries of ecstasy.

In the perfect fulfillment of this desire I find my target, meaningless is their offense. All that matters is that they are desired for this. Then, secluded deep in the forest, this sacrilege against mankind is performed. Restrained into the ground, they will awaken. Perhaps while they are still unconscious from the method used to subdue them. Stakes are used and are pounded through their wrists. Through their ankles. Forcing them to remain on the ground. Naked. Exposed. Ready. They lay in the filth and the refuse of the forest as the instruments are laid out on the ground next to their head, so that they may see what is intended to use upon them.

We, this inner darkness and I, wait for them to awake. Wait for them to come back to a consciousness. When they return we introduce ourselves.

"Hello, you unlucky bastard. For whatever reason you are here it doesn't matter. You will not see the next sun's rise....Welcome to the last moments of your life. Pray to your "god". You'll find he has abandoned you in your utmost time of need." And we will laugh at whatever pathetic requests they make. Their world will come to an end soon and they will offer anything they can to get out of it. No, their fate was sealed the moment that we found them as our target.

We begin with things that won't kill him. We always wanted to try puncturing more... intimate locations. Perhaps we should change the plan. Yes. We will not stake them to the ground, however, we will tie them up to a tree, able to be rotated if we so desire but also able to be placed up against the tree tightly when we want to work upon them.

Then, the fun begins. We turn them back around, tie them tightly against the tree and begin with the work on their genitals using knives and needles. Some just going along the surface, some going within the genitals depending on what gender dictates how the torture is followed through with.

Next we would have a switch from a tree and we would begin whipping their front section. Hitting as hard as we are able, causing their skin to be split and their blood to flow. Their blood flowing excites us and we hit them with determination, driven to see more blood flowing from their skin. Eventually the switch wears out and we talk to the poor thing of our ministrations, laughing at their misery. Constantly they beg. Perhaps at this point they simply wish for the end to come. Perhaps they are apologizing or begging forgiveness for the wrongs they have done. Thinking that some sort of cosmic force is what brought them to this location and for this to happen to them. That perhaps they are already dead. That this is their religions version of hell and we are their version of Satan.

Now we pull a serrated blade out and begin to cut into their flesh. Drawing blood with superficial cuts. So many of them. On their arms. Their chest. Face. Abdomen. Legs. Every portion of the body has a cut on it and is flowing blood. They are horrified, still conscious and alert, but under such agony.

Next, we grab a set of forceps. "You know, I've always wondered if the eye socket really looks that gruesome without an eye in it. Now simply to decide which eye to rip from your skull. Perhaps it will be your left eye, it looks to be your favorite." With that we tie their head down stakin the rope into the ground and tape their eyelids open. Ripping out their eye is difficult with the forceps, not designed for such fines, after much damage to the eye itself it is torn from its socket to the screams of agony of our subject and we laugh as they scream in agony, blood flowing from the socket we have finished ravaging with our tool. "Oh... you poor thing. That hurt didn't it? O well, remember, you'll be dead in less than 36 hours. Your pain is temporary, you'll reach your Nirvana  I'm sure, what god who refuses to help you in life would be so cruel as to damn you to your version of hell after such a hell that you currently endure?"

We leave them, struggling as the sunsets alone in the note to ponder about what we have done. This day filled us with such joy and power... but we were not always this way.....