Bullets.

Clostrophobia. You've never experienced it 'til you've been roped to a table- gagged- and left to await your fate. Walls closing in. Dark. Hands at my sides writhing. Lungs betraying me- constricted. Heart pounding- failing.
PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!
panic to your heart's content, but you're never getting out alive!
(Quiet, you lunatic piece of sh*t...)
Movement past a door. that faceless bastard...
*click!click!click!* of boots on concrete. Sounds like more than two feet. 4 maybe 6 boots...
louder. Louder. LOUDER. until-
*BOOM!* the door goes down in a cloud of dust and the light rolls in like smoke.
"How's our little angel?" grizzly growls from behind dark masks. Three monster carrying pistols and hungry stomachs. The gag dislodges from my jaw and out stream the threats... stupid!
"FILTHY RATS! GET ME THE F**K OUT OF HERE OR, I SWEAR, I'LL-"
"You'll WHAT, honey?" The faceless one that dragged me here seems to be the only one with a voice. He cocks his gun, spreads my left hand out on the table beside me. His cold, meetal weapon pins down my palm, "You'll KILL us?"
*BANG* Flames lick at my throbbing nerves- taunting.
(I'm so F**KING stupid!)
Blood gushes from the wound. I bite my lip in agony.
Laughter ensues from the mouths of the monsters. Barking hyenas...
This is their idea of a good time. And their not-so-harmless fun mixed with my uncanny ability to offend makes for the battle-scar of a lifetime.
(Jesus... why?)
You don't know pain 'til you've been mauled by a bullet...
I'm made of bullets.
I AM PAIN.