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Story about death

When we beached our boat on the shore I noticed a man running down from a cliff. As the man gets closer I send two of my friends to sneak around behind him. He walks even closer and starts demanding things like "who are you?" and "why are you here?” I see my comrade behind him and signal them to gag the *censored*er. They tie a wide strap of some kind of animal skin over his mouth. I look down on the damn puss while my friends are securing his hands to a concrete platform. The pain and fear I see in his eyes disgusts me. I spit in his face. He tries to move, he squirms franticly as I pull a dagger out of its sleeve. I lower myself down to my knees I notice a stream of sweat running down his face. I let the point of the dagger sit at ease on his eyebrow.Sweat is dripping rapidly off his face. He believes he is going to die, but then again he probably will. I think and say to myself “I can’t kill this man, for there is no reason to commit such a hideous crime”. The dagger falls between his eyelid and the top of his eye. I run the knife in a circle around his eye, I push down in the handle of the knife, using it to pry the eye out. Blood runs Dow his face. At the moment he only has one eye. I slap on the non-bloody cheek hoping for a response indicating that he is not yet dead. I repeat the same procedure to the left eye as I did to the right. My friends and I notice a group of men running after us. We rush to get the boat afloat. Success! We float the boat ten miles south, beach the boat, and sleep for the evening. ...

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