In the eyes of God, you show no forgiveness. You’re merciless, unfathomable, incapable of love and gratitude. Man of no remorse, where has your love gone? There’s no more love in your violence. There’s no more love... in you.
“I’ll crush ya like a fuckin’ roach. I’ll make sure your face is unrecognizable as soon as I’m fuckin’ finished with ya. I’ll mince you... I’ll mince you into fucking MEAT.” It’s a scene in a horror picture-play: colorized and printed on a full HD tv-screen. In the middle of a room is the yakuza enforcer of the Kawaguchiya-kai clan, his limp body strung up by a couple of steel meat hooks lodged into his bleeding back. He dangles there lifelessly, squirming like a bug as he moans in agony. Ryoma, his heavily tattooed back bare and trailed with bullet wounds and bleeding lacerates sitting on the floor, a metal skewer in his hand and a grin unfurled upon his blood-stained face. His glare stabbed better than a knife could. Ryoma stands up, the skewer in his hand twirling between his calloused fingers. He smiles, almost dreamily, and begins to slowly slide the skewer into the man’s swollen cheek. “I’m nothin’ more than a shell of who I used to be. Seein’ you cry and scream makes me feel nothin`. Everythin’ in my body is numb, cold, empty. I feel nothin’. And it’s all your guy’s fuckin’ faults. Fuck you. Fuck you. I’ll fuckin’ kill you. I’ll do whatever I fuckin’ can to see ‘er again. I’ll do anything to make you feel the pain I felt. Feel my pain. Feel my fuckin’ pain, as it slides into you like this skewer. I want you to feel everythin’ I felt. The sorrow, the sadness, the pain. ‘s the best thing you can do for a true sadist.” He slides the skewer deeper in his cheek before it pokes from the other side. He then rips it from his mouth hastily. “I’ll fuck you up. I’ll fuck you u-”
Ryoma’s leer is now adjusted to the slammed open door, a tall man standing before them.
----------------------------------------------------------- “Wrong room, sir.” // @kosmec
