The word consume could mean a few things in this context. It usually meant taking instead of not producing a food source. It could mean to theoretically consume the girl’s soul. Like eating her leftover memories.
But there was something more to what he was saying than that. This was a man that got off on the unexpected. He liked pushing the boundaries of disgust and fear.
Varian imagined that the man was average and lonely in a world that he had created to escape from this boring world.
However, he couldn’t quite escape himself.
“Consume?” Varian whispered the words, surprisingly not afraid to say them but anxious to hear the answer.
Why was he anticipating something like this? What was this feeling that trailed up his back and shot up his arms? The hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stood on end, followed by goosebumps.
“The flesh is always tender. Never too chewy or tough. The flavor ranges. It’s always unique.”
The man’s hands slid under Varian’s shirt. They squeezed softly on the flesh of his belly. “I like this part the best. It’s not too fatty but not too thin either. Just the right amount to sink your teeth into.”
Varian yelped when the man pinched his side. “I’d suspected you were on the chubby side.”
Varian’s breath was shaky. His hands bawled at his side. He clenched and unclenched them. He licked his lips.
“That’s what you meant then. You eat them.”
“Was it that hard to guess? I thought it was quite obvious.”
“Not to me. There weren’t that many signs.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You just weren’t looking hard enough.”
He stepped away from Varian and for a second, Varian thought he was going to explain further about what signs he’d missed. However, instead of doing that, he dragged Varian to the tub and shoved him down to his knees.
His hands collided with the sides of the tub. He braced himself for the fall. His knees smacked into the hard concrete. They stung. The brace hadn’t made the impact hurt any less.
He bit his tongue, stopping the stream of curse words he wanted to spit out.
The knife was thrust into his face. The tip stopped a hair away from his nose.
“Take a good look at it now. Do you see the craftsmanship? The beauty in its form. How it gets your attention just by simply existing?”
Actually, Varian hadn’t even bothered looking at the knife. It had been a weapon to defend himself, not something to admire. But because he wasn’t stupid to argue with he man one more time, he took his time to look at the knife’s…ordinary features.
It was a standard knife to his knowledge. What exactly could he say about it? It wasn’t like he was acknowledged about types of knives and their functions.
They were used to cut things. He didn’t know what else to say about it.
His warped reflection gazed back at him. Soulless eyes looked back at him and an almost cool expression covered his face. Behind that face, behind every mask he had ever worn, there was a man that should have been disgusted by the things his captor had said and had done.
Varian looked up at the man. The mask, white and devoid of any human emotion, was interesting. Interesting in a way that stole Varian’s attention and made his thoughts disappear. He just wanted to stare and stare.
The man tilted his head in Varian’s direction.
“What is it?” He dropped his hand holding the knife to Varian down to his side. “You look confused.”
The man brushed his fingers across Varian’s forehead. Cool sweat swept across his skin and his heart skipped a beat. Something nasty settled in the pit of his stomach.
He tasted a bit of sour on the tip of his tongue and the nasty feeling grew stronger. The world tipped slightly and his vision became blurry. Every lie and every mistake he made came back to torture him. All the horrible things he ever said or did were tallied up and ready to serve the justice he deserved.
The white mask pushed into his field of vision. Its nose touched his.
“Don’t think now. Just do.” Those commanding words didn’t help him.
What was he supposed to do?
That question was answered a second later when the man took his hand and placed the knife in his palm. It seemed strange to give it back to him now after he’d revealed just how messed up he was. He must have seen the look on Varian’s face and known what he was thinking.
“Even after you’ve stabbed me, where would you go?”
Yes, that’s what he’d said earlier. Even if he fought back, it would be for nothing.
His fingers shook. He could feel the man’s eyes on him and expectation. This was completely wrong. Nothing ever turned out this way. And yet, it had. How had he ended up here? How had this happened to him?
The man reached into the tub and grabbed the girl’s wrist. He handled it like a delicate rose, paying close attention to her entire body so as to not disturb it. Varian watched obediently as the man placed the hand in front of him.
“Fingers are soft. They’re an easy target to start with,” he said. Even with the voice distortion his voice was soft. It was a sharp contrast to what he was doing and what he’d already done.
Varian didn’t move.
The man kicked him.
“Do it. Or I’ll cut yours off instead.”
That sickening feeling crept back. It was a cold hand reaching inside him and ripping apart his insides. Each pull and tug pushed him closer to the edge until he was finally there. Looking over the edge, his heart dropped.
Her eyes were looking right at him. Not past or out of focus, they knew where they were looking. She was there, hiding inside that body, trapped in her old self. Was she screaming? Was she yelling for help?
The knife was heavier than he had remembered it being. It was a rock weighing him down, but a feather that needed to be stroked. He moved the blade above her graying fingers. The pinkish color of her flesh was now turning foul and disgusting looking. Her once beautiful eyes had sunken in and the tips of her lips drooped. Had this been the beauty he’d seen at first?
Appalled, his grip slipped on the knife. The blade sliced through her second knuckle. What blood was left in her system oozed out like thick paste. He threw his hand over his mouth. Bile—sour and foul tasting—raised tot he back of his throat.
Gentle hands held the back of his hand as he gagged, brushing back a few strands that had slipped into his face.
“Try again.”
He shook his head.
The hand yanked his head back and he cried out. He looked up at the mask. The contempt and anger that had built up finally burst.
“Fuck you.”
He shouldn’t have said it, but it was already too late.
Nothing could be done. The mask hid any emotion, never giving away what the man inside was thinking. Even if Varian could tell, he would regret ever knowing. The rise and fall of his chest was painful. Every breath felt like his last, like he was fighting for one more second of his life.
The knife was snatched from his hand and before he could react, the man sliced the girl’s fingers. They fell into his hand, blood smearing across his skin. The man didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything that made it seem like this was his first time.
The urge to throw up came back to Varian, pushing at the back of his throat.
He made the mistake of scooting back, trying to get as far away from the corpse as possible. The man grabbed him by his jaw and pressed his fingers in, prying his mouth open.
Varian tasted the leather. It scraped over his back molars. He gagged again, tongue trying to desperately press the invading fingers out.
“You want to say that again? Come on. I’m listening.”
The mask pressed against his face.
“You’re just asking for it.”
The grip got tighter, widening his mouth more than he could handle. He struggled against the hold and grabbed onto the man’s arm, pulling at the hand.
“Take it easy,” he said.
Varian shook his head.
The man raised his other hand, covered in thick blood, and touched Varian’s face. “Come on, now.”
He shook as the fingers drifted closer to his mouth, hovering the corner of his lips. Tears and snot fell down his face.
The fingers pushed into his mouth, rubbing against his tongue and the inside of his cheeks. He could taste it, familiar to his own but disgustingly foreign. He gagged and before he threw up, he was tossed back with a light push.
Through his blurry vision he saw the man wipe his fingers on his shirt. He stared at Varian, taking him in like he’d just noticed him. Silently, he picked up something from he floor. He crept close and knelt where Varian lied.
Varian shuffled back again, spitting the leftover taste of the blood onto the floor. Even still, the man followed him. He grabbed his ankle and pulled him toward him.
This time, Varian complied, weak and tired. He wiped his eyes.
The man held up what he’d picked up from the floor. The girl’s finger.
In an almost sorrowful voice, the man said, “Don’t fight.”
He moved his hand close to Varian’s face. The finger stopped an inch away from his mouth.
He knew what the man wanted. God, how he knew.
The tears came back, but this time they came with hiccups. His entire body shook as he opened his mouth and the finger moved into his mouth. He cried even more when he took the first bite.
Blood gushed into his mouth. The bone cracked and the skin stuck to the top of his mouth. He went to the spit it out when the man covered his mouth.
“Swallow.”
His eyes met the black holes of the mask. They showed him nothing.
He tried to swallow it whole, gagging on the bile and blood in his mouth.
Nothing was worse than this. This was the lowest of lows.
The chunk slid down his throat in an agonizing slow pace. He gasped when he finally slow pace. He gasped when he finally got it down, slamming his fists onto the floor and yelling. No longer crying, he sobbed and cradled himself.
Arms wrapped around him and he immediately fought back.
“Get off me! Get off me you sick fuck!” His yells were muffled by his own vomit and snot.
The man managed to keep a hold of him while he pulled something out of his pocket. He produced a medium sized needle and ripped the tip off the plastic covering. Already full of liquid, he brought it near Varian.
“No!”
He hit the man’s knee, too afraid he would jostle the needle. But it was too late.
The man held him tight around the waist and pushed the needle into him, right into the soft skin of his neck.
Varian squeezed as hard as he could onto the man’s thigh.
The needle slid from his neck. Every centimeter felt like hot wax was being poured on and in his neck. The worse part about it was when he opened his mouth to scream there was nothing but air. Drained of energy, he sagged into the man’s arms, letting him cradle him like a child.
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