Ways of Torture: Slow Slicing

I’m sorry. But I just had to rip SOMEONE apart. Basically, a girl goes berserk and kills off her parents, well, rather violently. Could be considered as a lot of violence, so I'd be careful if I were you. No strong language or sexual content. 

My hand trembled, and the katana I was holding began to shake uncontrollably. There was no doubt about it – this was the sword that once killed my brothers, all five of them, and now it was finally mine. “Thank you,” I muttered to it, the blade still crusted with blood from that day 5 years ago. I brought the sword up to eye level, my heart leaping in joy as I stared at the bloody metal. “Thank you, mother,” I said, looking at the sliced up form that had once been the female who had raised me. “Now I can kill father, and send him to you. I’ll be free from both of you, after all these terrible years…”

I flicked the blood off the blade with a twist of my arm, a menacing smile beginning to creep across my face. “It’s time for some slow slicing,” I said, facing my father, who had been cowering in a corner of the dark room. I raised my sord, and despite his weak protests, sliced off his right cheek, exposing his ugly, yellow teeth. He screamed in pain, a bone chilling, blood curling shriek, and I laughed, cutting off most of his toes in the process. That only made him scream louder, and I cherished the beautiful sound of agony as it rang in my ears. I sliced off more of his flesh, severing off the little muscle that he had worked so hard to obtain, then kneeled down in front of him. “Oy,” I said, to bring him out of his world of pain. “Are you listening to me?” After a few seconds of t nothing but his ragged breaths, I gathered up his cut off flesh in my hands and stuffed them down his throat. “I said, are you listening to me?!?!?” I almost screamed, standing up and stomping on his face. I received a small nod. “Good,” I said, slicing his body cleanly and too. I walked away, eyes widened, a sort of maniac grin on my face, blood spattered on my clothes.

“I’m free….”