I felt the acid splatter onto my back, piercing through my ghostly pale skin and melting through its surface. I felt every drop of it, every single one. I felt the way it ate away through my muscles, my nerve’s screams echoing through my bones. My body felt hollow, yet my burning blood poured out of it. It flowed down my arms, stinging them. It trickled down my thighs and down to my calves, tearing at my hide. The pain felt so good.
In my blurred vision, my eyes caught them dragging a blue pail towards me with a corroded metal handle. I weakly raised my head to glance inside it, an urge of something that could be described at instinctual, morbid curiosity peeking from the welcomed darkness of the agony; to see what was in there even though I knew good and well. I let out a soulless chuckle as I spotted more acid. More sizzling, chartreuse acid. More pain.
I felt hands grab onto my bleeding arms and pull my naked body up, exposing my bare chest and my stomach. They lifted the bucket up, tilting it onto my torso. I felt alive as the acid burnt through my skin like fire eating away at paper, licking the surface with its flames.
And I melted, melted as my remains lapped at the ground until I was nothing but a charred corpse.