Magic Box

My body hurts, and I feel a bit suffocated.

I look down at myself and see thick rusty chains gripping my arms and upper body. I realize that I'm chained to a wall. A brick wall, to be exact. My feet are suspended about 2 feet from the ground. Strangely though, the hanging bit doesn't really hurt, only the tight pressure from the chains. There is a flickering light bulb hanging above me. I cannot see anything farther than 5 feet or so. There's just darkness. I try to squirm, in hopes of loosening the chains that are constricting me. It doesn't budge, so I give up and just go limp.

A few seconds later, I hear footsteps. Then I see a man coming up to me. It's Dean Winchester from that show "Supernatural". He is wearing boots, jeans and a plaid shirt with a jacket over it. I notice a knife in his left hand -- it's one of those huge carving knives that I see on cooking shows. It looks brand new too. I feel very scared, because I know he's gonna torture me, but I don't utter a word. He is just staring blankly at my face, in a zombie-ish way.

He comes closer and tugs the chains down. Instantly, they fall to the ground. However, even though I'm free from the chains, I'm still stuck against the wall, hanging and unable to move. It even feels like the chains are still there.

Dean suddenly grabs my left arm and slices it with the knife. The cut is about 3 inches long, and it looks very deep. It starts bleeding profusely. The bleeding itself doesn't hurt or anything, but the slicing part does. It's like that disturbing feeling you get when you hear the sound of a metallic object being rubbed against glass. Or that spine-tingling feeling you get from nails scratching a chalkboard. The cutting part truly feels painful.

I close my eyes and start crying. As I'm sobbing silently, Dean slices me again -- this time on my right arm. I jerk at sting of the knife penetrating my skin. I don't dare to open my eyes. SSSSSSK. Another slice on my left arm. SSSSSSSK. On my clavicle. SSSSSSSK SSSSSSK. Two more slices. I can't even remember where he cut me anymore. All I know is that I'm probably gonna bleed to death, and that I'll die hanging on this brick wall.

I keep closing my eyes, whimpering at every cut he makes. I'm not sure for how long it went on.

The next thing I know, I wake up in my bed, sweating like I just ran a marathon. But even then, I could still remember how every cut and slice felt -- torturous and agonizing.