The leather straps were taut. Ella didn’t stay still, her wrists rubbed against the harsh material. Her blue eyes met brown irises. “Let me go,” she pleaded. The screaming started when the blade made contact with her forearm. Ear-splitting wails bounced off the walls of the room. Whether being loud was a good or bad thing depended on the situation. Having enough of the noise, the owner of the brown eyes forced her mouth to remain open. In a few moments, Ella’s tongue was on a metal cart. Screaming became difficult as blood pooled in her mouth. The cut was from wrist to elbow. Nothing too deep. The goal wasn’t to keep her alive for long. This was meant to be quick, but not too quick. That didn’t keep her from suffering.
The scalpel wouldn’t help with managing the bones. The radius was the smaller bone in the forearm. Gliding joints were located in the wrist. Those were pulverized with a few smashes of a hammer. Everything was done in order; finish one arm before moving on to the next. A tourniquet was already tied on both arms and legs. Cutting the radial artery was just for fun. Further blood loss was prevented by the spasming. Muscles and tendons are something people often forget about. Slitting wrists is by no means a good form of murder or suicide. However, it’s a good way to implement fear.
Ella had inevitably passed out from both fear and pain. A shot of adrenaline successfully woke her up. Pain shot through her body as the large knife swung into her ankle. Her pelvis tensed and the straps dug into her appendages. With a few more attempts, the knife made it past the muscle. Something sharper was needed to cut through the bone. Something along the lines of a hacksaw. The saw cut past the bone leaving Ivette short of breath and in shock.