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The Sickest Sense
His nose ran up the length of her leg as he inhaled deeply.
"Mmmmm I love the smell of your skin. I can smell it on you."
He was kneeling by the chair, petting her now. Softly, his hands moved up and down her thighs, over and over. His eyes were lost in the movement. Suddenly, his fingers moved up to entwine in her hair. He pulled it to his face in an instant and inhaled once again.
"I can smell the fear," he breathed.
The chuckle that terrified her so exploded from him, right in her ear and she jumped. At that he laughed louder, and walked sprightly out of the room. She would have screamed but the gag prevented it. She would have ran but the chains wouldn't allow it. In a moment, he was back.
"I've brought you a gift, my darling." He smiled widely, and his teeth were stained. She knew why. "Look, it's a kitten. Isn't it so cute? Do you love it? Do you love me?"
He set the kitten down in her lap. She told it to run with all her mental powers but it curled up in her lap.
"I said, Do you love me?" he asked again.
She tried to mumble an answer but it wasn't satisfactory. If he would remove the gag, but she knew he never would. This was all part of the game.
"You won't say it, huh? Fine then, I'll have to punish you." He smiled again and she cringed. She knew what happened next. The knife appeared from behind him and plunged into the kitten. A screech escaped, muffled, as the warm liquid flooded over her legs and the shrieks from the kitten died down. He lifted the body from her lap and to his lips. She tried to close her eyes.
"Oh, no sweetie. You know that's not allowed." His wet fingers touched her eyelids and stained them red. "Oh, such pretty eyes."
He returned the body to his lips and drank. He moaned and her stomach turned. She knew what happened next. Kneeling on the floor, he lifted his face and smiled up at her, red rimmed pearls. The body was to her mouth now, the blood soaking into the rag that held her tongue. She could smell the death on his fingers, on her lips. She gagged and sputtered, resisting what she knew would come.
"Shh, darling, all is well."
She drank. She had no choice. The blood flooded her mouth and excited her taste buds. She hadn't eaten for days.
"Feeding time is soon."
At the taste of blood and of death, she lost herself. He delighted in this, the squirming, the writhing, the need. She needed him.
"I know you love me. I love you too."
At that he rose and left and came back, this time with a bowl. He gently placed the body in the bowl and began gingerly cutting around the fur. She watched in disgust and lust and hunger and need. He pulled the meat from what was now just blood and guts. With one hand he pulled the gag to the side and with the other placed what had been a kitten on her tongue. As disgusted as she was with herself she swallowed, and wanted more. He liked to go through this procedure slowly, watching her want him, need him. He watched her eyes dart quickly along with the movements of his fingers. He watched the desire in them. In his delusion, that desire was for him.
"Saaaarrrraaahhh," he called from the next room. "Oh Sarah dear, where are you?"
She saw his foot come through the door first. He wiggled his toes and chuckled. Then in a leap he was in full view. Her name was not Sarah.
"Oh there you are Sarah, if you wanted to play hide-and-go-seek you should have told me. You know daddy loves you, I would've played. You scared me to death." He walked towards her in a zigzag, one step one way, one the other, a bounce in each one. When he reached the chair he dropped to his knees and placed his face on her cheek. Breathing deep on her skin, he felt her shiver and delighted in it. "Thank god I found you."
He stood quickly and started pacing the room.
"Now your mother, she wasn't so worried as me." He sounded angry and the fear rose from her gut. "She couldn't have cared less, was going to go to the store, wanted me to come with! Can you believe that?" He was raving now, throwing his hands about in the air. "She didn't care that you were missing."
He stopped short. He turned slowly towards her and his speech was quiet now.
"But don't worry dear, I took care of it. She won't bother us anymore. I will take care of you forever."
He bowed his head and his hair covered his face in darkness. Like a zombie he walked and dropped once again to his knees in front of her. When he looked up his eyes were bright and his smile wide.
"Would you like to hear the story? You're daddy's little girl and you love me. Your stupid, ridiculous mother is not a problem anymore. You are all mine." He pulled a knife from his pocket. Dried blood had flaked off in places, revealing the silver of the blade.
"You won't tell anyone. I know it. You don't want to end up like her, do you darling? I love you very much. I want us to be together. You won't tell anyone." His face suddenly turned to stone. "Unless there's someone else that you love more. That's it isn't it? There's someone else. And he wants you to tell. Well no, this will not do."
He lifted the knife in a swift movement and slashed it across her cheek. A shriek escaped from her as the blood ran down and dripped from her chin. The knife ran again and again across her skin. She stopped screaming at one point. She fell into her mind.
"No one will ever want you now."
There was a place inside her mind she created. Her face had been restored to the smooth, fleshy beauty. Her lips were no longer bloody and broken, but full and lush and smiling. Her hair like liquid caramel fell down her back in waves. Laid across the bed of red silk she sighed. She watched him, this lovely boy, eyes sparkling like emeralds, watching her. The room was beauty materialized, as was she and him. The luxury of imagination. He came to her and pulled her hair across her shoulder. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked it, watching his fingers move through the tendrils. He lowered his face to her neck and like a kitten to cream he lapped up her scent. His tongue moved slowly up her neck and when his mouth reached her ear his lips gently tugged at it. His teeth softly caressed the skin as her hands gripped his waist. Her head tilted back as her breathing became heavy and he pulled his face back. His fingers touched her lips and they parted. Slowly, he moved his tongue across her teeth before entering her mouth.
One day, she escaped. He had in his insomniatic daze left a knife near the chair. She got the knife to her lips with her feet and cut the gag. There was a camera, always rolling.
He came home to her speaking to her self, to the camera, to the world. He lifted the knife she had used to free her mind and used it to free her body. The slit across her neck was a smile and the blood trickled slowly.
That doesn't exist.
Only a changing of worlds.