Imagine That You're Killing Him (Patreon)

Imagine hooking your cruel fingers up into his nostrils, listening to his screams turn nasal and thin as he chokes on his own breath, as his sinuses bend in ways that they were never meant to until with a crunching, sticky ripping noise a chunk of his face comes off in your hand. Imagine his slobbering terror as blood pours over his lipless gums into his braying, panicked mouth. Imagine taking that lumpen head in your hands, wrapping that greasy hair around your fists, and smashing it against the concrete wall. Imagine his first raw, bubbling shriek of agony and terror, his nauseous groan as you yank him back and drive him again into the hard, unyielding stone. Imagine the weak and sickly burp as he vomits in pain. He is like an animal in his pain. Stupid and helpless. He flails at you with those sickly-soft hands. He has never held power over you.

Imagine how he chokes and sobs as you slam his head again into the wall. Something cracks and shifts beneath your palm, a tectonic plate of bone smashed loose from its moorings, forced under the others. Pull him back and drive him in again and feel it punch through the slick meat between his ears. See his skull start to collapse in on itself, to narrow as you batter it, as you leave its negative splattered there in blood and spinal fluid on the concrete. 

Imagine the moment he dies. Maybe you miss it in the frenzy of destroying his body, in the ecstasy of ripping at his spine, of biting through his joints, of battering him into so much shapeless meat until even his gluey whimpering stops and you’re left kicking some misshapen sack of flesh and ruptured organs, kicking it and kicking it until bruised skin splits like rotten fruit under your blows, until your rage is spent and his ribs are kindling floating in the ruined morass of his body, his limbs twisted, his face a shapeless smear of skinned and dripping horror. Imagine standing over him, breathing hard. Imagine the release as you realize he’ll never move again, that he can never touch you, even to defend himself. Imagine knowing that he’s no longer a person, that there’s nothing left in him but the gurgling wreckage of his innards.

Imagine eating him.