Beauty and the Beast{Rave}

"Open wide."
"You fucking bitch! Get away from me, don't touch me!"
"You aren't getting any food if you keep up the attitude, now. open. up."
"Just shut up, you stupid bitch."

Well, I warned him. Popping the mask back around his mouth with an echoing smack flowing throughout the hallow basement. I watch him squirm on the table he's strapped onto, mostly because I just pulled out the thickest cleaver in our entire house and held it up to his pretty little face. But he's only been on that surface for what, two days? No need to be rude. He squirms a little more as I grasp his left arm tight with my hand, pathetic really, so I dig my nails deep into a skin. He isn't even my game to be playing, but what's a little harm in having fun?

It's almost a shame he's gonna die, since I already latched him in here and he can't leave now, we all now he'll just run the streets like a maniac telling everybody about the refuge basement he was trapped in. I hate it when the attractive ones have to be killed, because only men go to jail, dogs get put down. But damn, was he attractive, soft black hair, forming beard, tan, it almost makes me feel sorry for him that somebody blessed by the gene fairies will probably be made into a pair of dye ones.

"You know, I saw what you did. Actually I've been seeing it for days, normally this is just for sport. Some people play board games, some do athletics, I prefer watching scum squirm like filthy worms while I watch their skin burn from their bones. Lucky for you, I'm not your doctor today." Oh but how I wished I was.

Oh, but how polite would it be to let Aragorn have all the fun, without me have a taste at all? Too bad for him I guess, this patient is just too cute to go without getting a little teaser at all. I force his left arm further, as if stretching it from the seams, while inserting the tip of this trusty cleaver into his delicate cheek, just far enough to watch the panic settle in his eyes and to draw blood towards the surface. Faster this time I swing the cleaver into the air and down upon his wrist, splashing blood over the table, his left-stub side and the front side of my black overalls.

After carefully bandaging the spoils, but leaving him to dry out, I stuff the fist into a paper bag and stare him in the eyes. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" Accompanied only by the remains of the smirk on my face, I march out of the basement proudly, blood seeping through the clotted corners of the dingy bag. "Olivia, my room, now!" I don't have to be polite to her right now, considering I'm the room bringing her desert and she's our pet.

The clacking of the soles of these boots echo through the halls, but I don't hear it much since I'm too busy thinking about how I'm gonna get this damn blood off my overalls. Once I enter the room, I find Olivia sitting obediently on the other side by my bed, petting her own hair like any dog would dream. "Guess what? Before giving her time to answer, even if she could, I luge the bag at her lap. "I brought you a treat.