I visualize Alek’s arms and legs strapped to the wooden chair with his own cables as the rich notes vibrate from the wooden instrument into my body. The nails from his nail gun, puncturing through his bones as his throat shrilled in horror, holding him upright in the chair. With every pluck of the rapid pizzicato, I visualize the gaping holes where his eyes and tongue used to be, enthralled by the destruction of his once handsome features.
