The guard finishes sharpening his dual rusty knives.
Guard: Time to chop off your fingers, rat.
Xoza stays silent, almost as if he has already accepted the torture—for the sake of his friends.
He lays his hand flat.
Guard: There I go, rat. Don't regret it afterwards.
Again, Xoza says nothing.
The guard's head heats with anger. He drives the blade down.
The rusty edge bites into flesh—slow, dragging.
Xoza erupts in a scream:
Xoza: AGHHHHHHHH!!!
The knife moves so sluggishly that he feels every nerve tearing. The smell of iron fills the air.
The guard stops midway, raises his blade high—then slams it down.
CRACK!
The second finger is severed clean.
This time the pain is sharp, sudden—like lightning running through his hand. Blood splatters, warm and sticky, and a metallic taste floods Xoza's mouth.
Another chop.
CRACK!
Xoza: AGHHHHHH!!!
Tears stream down his face, but he doesn't beg. He only screams.
The third, then fourth finger—
CRACK! CRACK!
Warm blood drips freely. His hand burns and freezes at the same time, agony ripping through him like fire.
The final chop comes.
CRACK!!!
All five fingers—gone.
Xoza's chest heaves, sweat mixing with tears. His mind is breaking, but he swallows his thoughts.
Xoza (thinking) Leave me alone… just for once. My hands… my fingers… they're all gone…
But he doesn't let it to come out of his mouth
Only a raw, animal scream escapes.
The sound echoes through the entire prison. Every RDX member hears it.