So are you going to tell me who sent you or not as he stood by him with pliers fill with blood as the blood drips to the floor?
Sitting strapped to the cheer Lucifer stared over at the Rasta. So darkness overshadows his eyes as he grinned.
How much more of this torture can you endure? He took his cigar and burned it on the open flesh wound of the open nail.
Screaming and crying the Rasta could no longer as he pleaded to kill him, as Lucifer sat there lighting another cigar.
So are you going to tell me who sent you?
The Rasta can barely speak, your piece of shit you killed a kid I got a million ways to keep you alive while torturing you and watching every moment of the pain you endure.
