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Take it like I tell you and it’ll only hurt when I want it to. Your flesh is red from heat from scratches from screaming from the blood that clots the little cuts I love to cut, the cuts I cut again. Little rusted drops of iron on the plastic. How long have you been here? Not as long as you think. You’ll be gone soon. Yes, I mean dead. Beg like a whore and serve me like a slave in the afterlife in my little slice of heaven.