Obscured Into History Part One

“What did I do to deserve this?!” whispered the nameless little boy.
“Because you are innocent little bunny.” growled Cyryl as he began to decide which kind of pain he was going to deliver next. As he rummaged through his little bag of hell, he grabbed a small gage  fish hook. Cyryl spat on it to clean it off from it's last horrific use. Then Cyryl slowly sauntered over to his unwilling participant. The nameless youngster's eyes widened in fear. After a little deliberation, as with most of the other children, he clasped the little boy's right upper eye lid and started his obsessive compulsion of inserting it through.          
         “Stop flailing, is not going to change a thing about what's going to happen.” Cyryl's voice was distant and emotionless. Just going through the motions. The captor took no pleasure, and felt nothing toward his young captive. It's just something he had to accomplish in order to alleviate the 'voices' inside his head.
         After he pushed the hook through he tied a bit of fishing line through the eyelet. Then Cyryl tied it to the edge of the table over the top of the young boy's head. A morbid version of a speculum.  With mechanical precision he repeated the task to the lower lid and the left eye altogether. Cyryl missed any and all blood estuaries.
         “plea...se....I want to go home, I want my mom....'' the little one trailed off, the growth of the realization that he is never going to ever, again.
         “Once you realize that you are dead this will go a lot easier for you. But we aren't done yet.” Cyryl, ever distant, replied. He looked down for his next tool and located a pair of rusty scissors. As he picked them up he inched closer to his victims nose, inserted one half of the open blade a half inch into the boy's nostril. As Cyryl slowly cut the nostril, the blood began to flow. The nameless boy began to scream, and blew a mixture of mucus and blood into bubbles out of his newly flayed left nostril.
         “ PLEASE STOP!” The boy exclaimed as he could not close his eyes and in terror watched as Cyryl walked around to the right side of the table to perform the same operation. He moved back to the little bag of hell, removed a razor blade and moved over to the nameless subjects hand and proceeded to make incisions in between his fingers. Then the private torturer moved down to his feet and repeated his actions. The helpless little boy began to lose consciousness. Cyryl noticed that and cracked a capsule of smelling salts and wafted it under the boy's open nose. Which jolted him back to an awakened state of fear.
           The sadistic, Dr. Mengele copy cat, started to formulate a new batch of debauchery in his cold mind. He pulled out ten steel meat hooks from the cabinet in the converted, abandoned slaughterhouse they were in and proceeded to insert them into his new patient. Four in the little boy's legs, two left, two right. One in each forearm, one in his stomach and two in the upper chest. Running the hooks through the pectoral muscles was tougher than expected. Before he hoisted the boy up off the rack Cyryl inserted the last hook through the boy's throat and in one quick fluid motion kicked the table out from under the boy, which suspended him in mid air.
         In morbid fascination he watched as the boy started to flail and and writhe about. The boy tore his flesh from the hooks. First the legs fell free, followed immediately by his arms and stomach. With the realization that he might live he held in short shallow breaths. He ripped out the hooks in his chest. As soon as he removed them all of his weight suddenly fell on the hook in his throat instantly removing is windpipe.  Blood gushed from every open wound. The nameless victim gasped for every bit of air he can get. The little nameless boy looked at Cyryl, pain and hatred replaced fear as his body convulsed and his eyes rolled  to the back of his mangled face.
         “ More satisfying than I thought it would be. Wish I had more time with him. Little bunny...”