De Todo Corazón

"Buenas tardes, tranquilo quédate ahí, no intentes levantarte, no te será posible," dijo la sombría figura, completamente de negro, oculto tras un pasamontañas sobre el cual se notaban gafas de aumento con un estilo más bien conservador, hablando desde una silla entre las sombras, mientras bebía de un vaso de whisky, que dejó de lado sobre una mesa. Continuo dirigiéndose a su interlocutor mientras se incorporaba para acercarse al sujeto sometido sobre una mesa, mismo que a cada instante evidenciaba recuperar gradualmente la conciencia mientras sus ojos se desorbitaban horrorizados "yo sé que todo debe tenerte un poco atolondrado, que las cosas no son precisamente como imaginarias." Suspiro un momento, mientras se escuchaban ligeros gemidos de su interlocutor. "creo que debieses considerar que en estos momentos tu silencio me es valioso, en verdad no quiero que te alteres pues esto podría afectar el producto de esta... ¿Cómo decirlo? ¿Relación? Vale, dejémoslo en que el producto que quisiera de esta fugaz interacción que he establecido contigo, podría verse afectado por tu estado de ánimo." El sujeto observaba las lágrimas fluir de los ojos de su interlocutor, su boca amordazada con un trapo sucio y sus facciones iluminadas claramente bajo la luz cálida, amarilla pero tenue, alumbrando con un ligero resplandor los contornos de la habitación y de los dos sujetos. "Verás no soy como tú, no estoy habituado a aquella adrenalina especial que sientes siempre que sometes a tus víctimas procurando oírles gritar, procurando dañarles para probar sus gritos, y saborear su dolor." Mencionó el sujeto mientras le apretaba bien la mordaza y aseguraba que estuviese bien amarrado a la mesa sobre la cual se encontraba sometido. "Yo de hecho no tendría el corazón para hacer todo eso que tú haces, de observar como sufren tus víctimas mientras las haces palidecer como flores que se marchitan, mientras destrozas su persona desde el interior llevándote su dignidad al arrebatarles aquello que aún no tienen siquiera la razón para entregar, a quien pudiesen amar, aquello que les arrancas junto con su vida." Con un cuchillo que había preparado a un lado de la mesa, la sombría figura comenzó a cortar los botones de la camisa de su sometido interlocutor.

"Verás, si bien tengo el gusto de saber bien lo que estoy haciendo, en mi caso no es porque guarde una afición malsana como la tuya." Comenzó a hundir el cuchillo en la carne de su víctima, justo por encima del esternón para trazar una línea hacia el abdomen. Al hacer esto la víctima dio un salto aún sujeto de brazos cintura y piernas mientras los gemidos apagados por la mordaza se transformaban en gritos ahogados de terror. "¿ya ves? Te has sobresaltado demasiado, ahora debo iniciar desde el principio. Bien pues no te he anestesiado, como te dije, en una situación normal no tendría el corazón para hacer algo como esto. Sin embargo tú no eres una situación normal, y me has obligado a querer comprender como se saborea una vivisección cuando realmente se desea hacer y disfrutarla como quisiste siempre disfrutarlas hasta que sin que lo quisieras esa niña se escapase." Decía esto mientras el sujeto saltaba con violencia presa del dolor, haciendo que los cortes fueran cada vez más irregulares. "Joder... Así será imposible siquiera pensar en meter el instrumento adecuado para romper las costillas, creo que si tendré que sedarte por encima de lo divertido que esté siendo el rato contigo." Dijo el sujeto del pasamontañas mientras agarraba un paño impregnado en cloroformo sujetándolo contra la nariz de su agonizante víctima.

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Ana caminaba vacilante hacia su casillero en el instituto. Su cara estaba cubierta con lágrimas secas como ya era habitual en su día a día. Había costado muchísima terapia y muchísimas lágrimas, muchas más de las que ella habría creído capaz de tolerar y muchas más de las que le desearía a nadie, bueno, casi a nadie, el conseguir siquiera salir de su casa nuevamente. Pese a que ella misma parecía estar finalmente curada de estrés post traumático, ella había pasado por un largo proceso para recuperar la sombra de su tímida personalidad. Hoy en día todo parecía sumirse en una costumbrista sucesión de días monótonos luego de que el único psiquiatra que realmente logró comprenderle y ayudarle a salir, llorando con ella y entendiendo su dolor, desapareciese desde hace meses.

Ella era la única sobreviviente de un asesino en serie que violaba y torturaba a menores de edad, luego de que pudiese ella zafar sus manos de una de las amarras con la que le tenía sometida, posiblemente por atarle mal al momento de encontrarse altamente intoxicado en alcohol. Parcialmente desfigurada de su cara ella logró escapar rompiendo una ventana de la bodega en la que se encontraba para, afortunadamente abordar un auto de una persona que iba pasando por una calle aledaña. Nadie había podido encontrar a su victimario y aunque ella hacia lo posible por olvidar aquello y seguir adelante, cada día se volvía más difícil por un lado sabiendo que este sujeto estaba suelto aún y por el otro sintiéndose profundamente engañada y desamparada luego de que la única persona que le llegó a escuchar abiertamente desapareciese sin dejar rastro.

Quizá fuese que ella misma le espanto, al recordar aquella sesión de terapia en la que abiertamente le confesaba desear la muerte de aquel cerdo, arrebatándole su vida mientras le torturarse al recordar el asqueroso olor a licor y el pasamontañas que veía ahora todos los días en sus pesadillas... De hacerle sentir al menos una fracción del infierno en el que él le había envuelto desde que la eligió como su víctima y que por siempre le robó su tranquilidad.

Las clases estaban por comenzar y Ana se apresuró a abrir su casillero. Al hacerlo vio una caja roja con una nota que leía. "Ana, lamento haber desaparecido, jamás había sentido tanto el dolor de un paciente, hoy te regalo esto, te regalo por San Valentín tu tranquilidad, aun cuando jamás podré volver a verte quiero que sepas que te lo traigo de mil amores de todo corazón... Tú sabes bien de quien es y sabes mejor aún que lo hice justo como lo hubieras deseado.

Al abrir la caja, una sonrisa que combinaba perfectamente liberación y malicia se dibujó en la cara de Ana al observar en el interior forrado con terciopelo rojo y empotrado perfectamente, un frasco con un corazón preservado en formaldehido.

With All My Heart

“Good afternoon, easy, try not to move, not that you would be able to…” said the shady figure, completely dressed in black, whose face was hidden behind a black ski mask, over some conservative reading glasses were noticeable, while been seated on a chair I the corner, while drinking a glass of whiskey. The figure left the glass over a table besides him proceeding to raise and walk towards the person he was talking to, a person restrained to a table, who at every passing moment was giving evidence of gradually recovering his consciousness as he had an horrified look in his wandering eyes. “I know everything must be making you feel very dizzy, that nothing is precisely as you would have picture it,” he sighed for a moment as he continued listening to the other persons sobs “I think you should consider that in this moment, your silence is very precious to me, I really do not want you to get upset as this could affect the product of this… How to say it? Relationship? Ok, let us understand it as the product of this fluttering interaction which I am establishing with you, as it could be affected by your mood.” the speaker observed how the tears started to flow from the eyes of the other person, his mouth gaged with a dirty cloth and his features dimly lit by the shimmer of a warm yellow light which barely showed the contours of the room. “You see, I am not like you, I am not used to the special kind of adrenaline which you usually feel whenever you subject your victims to torture, while trying to taste their screams and savour their pain.” The speaker said as he tightened the gag as well as the restrains rom his arms and legs to the table to which he was secured. “I actually would not have the heart to do all the thing you do, to watch your victims suffer as you watch the wither away like dead flowers, as you destroy their beings from the inside, taking away their dignity as you steal that which your victims lack even the reason to give, to whoever they should choose to love, ripping it away, along with their life.” With a sharp knife which was prepared beside the table, the shady figure started to cut off the buttons from the shirt of the other person.

“You see, if I know precisely what I am doing right now, in my case it is not because of a sick hobby, as it is your case.” He started piercing the victim’s chest with the knife, just over his collar bone, in order to start to trace a line towards his abdomen. As he did this, his victim started jumping, as much as the restrains in his limbs and his waist let him, while the whimpering under the gag transformed in terrorized muffled screaming. “See? You have altered yourself way too much, now I should start from the beginning. Well, I have not anesthetized you, as I told you before, usually I would not have the heart to do this. Nevertheless, you are not a normal situation and you have forced me to dig into my curiosity and find out how enjoyable a vivisection can be, when it is a desired procedure to perform, and enjoy it as you have always enjoyed them, until that day came when one of the girls in which you performed this escaped.” He was saying this as the victim continued jumping and squirming, causing the cuts to become more and more irregular. “Shit… this way it would be increasingly difficult to actually use the instrument I need to break away your ribs, I think I must really sedate you regardless of how fun our time together has been.” Said the man with the ski mask as he reached for a cloth filled with chloroform, placing it over the victim’s mouth and nose.

Ana was walking shyly towards his locker in the elementary school. Her face was covered with dry tears as it was usual in her daily routine. It had cost her a lot of therapy sessions and a lot of tears, much more than she would have ever think she was capable of crying, and much more of which she would have wished anyone to suffer (well, almost anyone) to get her to get out of her house once again. Even though she seemed to be finally over post-traumatic stress disorder, she had passed through a long process of recovery in order to regain the shadow of what was her previously shy personality. On the present day, everything seemed to get reduced to a boring succession of monotone days after the only person who understood her and helped her recover, crying with her and understanding her pain, her psychiatrist, would have disappeared several months ago.

She was the sole survivor from a serial killer who raped, tortured and butchered little girls, after she could manage to slip one of her hands from one of the restrains with which she was held, possibly wrongly tied due to the alcohol intoxication in which the killer was at that moment. Partially disfigured from her face, she managed to escape by breaking one of the windows from the warehouse in which she was been tortured, fortunately hitchhiking a passing by car from a nearby street. The killer was nowhere to be found and even though she made whatever was possible to forget the event and move on with her life, it was becoming increasingly difficult, knowing on one hand that the killer was never found, and on the other hand, feeling completely betrayed and disappointed from the disappearance of the only person who had truly heard and cared about her.

Maybe she actually scared her psychiatrist, as she remembered the therapy session in which she openly confessed how she wished for the dead of that pig, wishing to enjoy torturing him and taking his life, as she returned to the dreaded memories of the liquor in her mouth and the hideous old ski mask he was using, which now haunted all her nights with nightmares… she wished to make him feel at least a fraction of the hell he put her through since he picked her as one of his victims, stealing away her tranquility.

The classes were about to start and Ana hurried to open her locked. As she did this she saw on the inside a red box with a note which had written, “Ana, I am sorry I had disappeared without notice, never have I felt the pain of a patient as I did with yours. Today I bring you this gift, I give you your tranquility back as a Valentine’s gift. Even though I may never be able to see you again, I wanted you to know I did this with love, with all my heart… you know who it belonged to and you know I did it just as you wished to do it.

As she opened the box, a smile was drawn on Ana’s face showing a perfect combination of liberation and malice as she observed perfectly fitted on its velvet red interior, a glass bottle containing a heart preserved in formaldehyde.