Why?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


“Isn’t she lovely?” the man purred. His voice trickled down her spine, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. “Don’t be so timid.” His cold fingers brushed her cheek. She flinched away. Her breath was loud in her ears, drowning out the sound of her frantic heartbeat. Focusing on taking in as much air as she could through her nose, she couldn’t stop the whimpers attempting to escape around the gag. The nasty cloth tasted old, like sweat and blood. The grimy feeling of it in her mouth made her sick, but she had to swallow down the bile that was constantly threatening to come up. Her misery only awarded her a dark chuckle.

She should have known better, should have listened to her gut. That old lady looked so kind... Something about her hadn’t been right, but how was she to know that such a monster laid beneath that warm facade.

“The young ones always are,” the woman piped up from somewhere in the next room. “Makes ‘em better.” All comfort and cheer were gone from her lilting voice. Things that had never really existed in the first place caused a fresh round of pathetic sounds to spill from her chest.

“I prefer them to have a bit more fight,” the man grunted hungrily as he stepped closer, running a sharp edge down her neck, across her collar bone, dipping between her breasts. Cold fear seized her heart anew, and the world narrowed down to the feel of the blade on her skin as she struggled not to move. “At least she’ll scream prettily. Such a gorgeous voice you have, lovely.” He sighed shakily, seeming to be excited from the thought. 

“Well, suppers ‘bout done. You can play with her after we eat.” 

“Alright, Mother,” the blade lifted from her skin and she saw him turn away. “I’ll be back.” He gave a smile that on anyone else would have been charming. On him, it made her skin crawl and her insides churn. He strode to the door and closed it without looking back, casting the room in darkness. 

She should have just continued on her way in the station. She shouldn’t have stopped to marvel at the woman’s hand mirror she had been so excited to show off or wooed by the promise of seeing more shiny trinkets. The old woman was clever. Telling a story about how sad she was not to have any women to share the treasures with and the man lamenting over the loss of his new wife. She had fallen for it like a fool, feeling sorry for them. Empathizing with them. It was painfully clear now that they had no feelings that were human. She should have just continued on her way, eyes straight and moving quickly. It was too late now.

She squeezed her eyes shut and felt wetness on her cheeks. Sobs wracked her frame and she did nothing to stop them. They wouldn’t let her go when they were done.

 


Submitted: April 20, 2020

© Copyright 2021 A.M. Pheonix. All rights reserved.

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