She’s strapped to a wood chair with gray duct tape. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. Even her head has been taped in a manner that prohibits all movement. Like the pigs his father would trap inside the homemade metal harness. Unlike the pigs, however, he can’t hear her squeals or screams. The tape that covers her mouth in the shape of an X cancels out all noise.
Down inside the basement, with only the harsh white light from the single exposed light bulb illuminating her face, The Skinner lays out the tools of his trade onto a small, mobile, stainless steel surgical table. The leather pouch contains numerous instruments for manipulating biological tissue. Several scalpels, graspers, clamps, and retractors. Everything he needs for flaying the skin slowly and with precision. The tool
