I was cleaning out my cupboard and found an about year old notebook in it. I flicked through it and found this piece of trash that I wrote for a writing task that we were given 15 minutes to do in class. I think the idea of it was to ensure that we practised writing in 2nd person. So here it is. Ready for you to judge (and for me to cringe at).
You feel the burn in your wrists and ankles. The rough rope that cuts into your skin, already blistered with burn marks. You’re terrified. Terrified. But you know what you must do.
– You hear footsteps approaching. It’s a harsh noise clicking on the tiles. The bag covering your head is yanked off, your hair being tugged firmly with it. You’re greeted to a smirking face as the dim light in the corner of the room illuminates it.
– “Ready for more?” he taunts. “Boss wants info, and you’re gonna give it.” He spits on your face.
– You gulp, already beginning to anticipate what’ll happen next to you. But you know what you must do.
– He walks over to a trolley. Fine, clean, precise tools are laid out. Ready to be used. He reaches for a hammer, picking it up and inspecting it as if it were a fine jewel. You glance done at your hands where blood has long ago crusted and dried on your skin. They look pale, and your veins are predominant. You have the feeling its been a few days, though the only confirmation to that is the way your stomach churns in desperation.
– He glances down at your hands – the pinky finger, left hand. You brace yourself for what comes next. You take one last glance down at its already disfigured form. You can only think of how disgusting it looks covered in blood and missing a nail.
– A rush of panic surges through you again, definitely not for the first time definitely not for the last. As the hammer makes its way down, in a sort of slow motion that you only thought was possible in movies, you want to tell them everything. But you know what you must do.