The girl thrashes, every last ounce of strength pouring into her desperate struggle.

Fingers claw at the butcher's face, nails digging in, raking flesh.

The butcher only moans at the sensation, shivering under the pain, her lips curling into something euphoric.

Her body jerks violently as she's shoved against the door, blood-slicked hands slipping on the handle, smearing it red.

She screams. Loud, raw, ugly.

Her leg kicks, her muscles burn, but the butcher is iron-clad, arms locking around her like she's cradling something precious.

The girl bites down, hard, sinking her teeth into the butcher's shoulder in a desperate frenzy.

The taste of salt, of sweat, of copper fills her mouth.

The butcher gasps, then... laughs.

A breathy, shaky giggle, her entire body trembling with overwhelming, unbearable bliss.

Her red eyes—blown wide, pupils dilated to nothingness, her entire expression twisted into something between rapture and madness.

"Ohhh... ohhhh..."

Her breath hitches, shuddering, her grip tightening.

"Yes... Yes, yes—!!"

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The girl pushes, fights, struggles, but the butcher is gone—utterly lost.

And then—

The butcher lunges.

She snaps.

Teeth sink into flesh.

The girl screams, the sound swallowed by the wet, sickening rip of skin tearing between the butcher's jaws.

She tears a chunk out of her.

Hot. Raw. Fresh.

Blood spurts over the butcher's lips, dribbling down her chin, soaking her in the heat of it.

The taste hits her like fire in her veins, her entire body spasming, her breath hitching in something too raw, too depraved to be described.

The girl shrieks, jerking, kicking, flailing—but the butcher moans, voice breaking in a shaky whimper, her body shuddering, overwhelmed.

She twitches—fingers twitch, legs shake, stomach clenches—she can't hold back anymore.

She grabs at the girl's face, breath hitching, her fingers tracing the shape of her terror, pressing too hard, too lovingly.

"Shh, shh—shhhhhh..."

The butcher's voice quivers, high-pitched, soaked in uphoria.

"I can't—I just—oh God, oh God, I need—I need—!"

The knife is in her hand, flashing, carving, digging.

In her neck, in her stomach, in her legs.

Skin peels, muscle parts, bones snap.

Slicing. Reshaping. Fixing.

The butcher trembles, hands shaking as she runs her fingers through the exposed sinew, smearing the heat of the girl's body against her own.

She laughs, breathy, delirious, her head tilting, drool thick at the corners of her lips.

"Perfect..." she whispers, voice breaking.

The girl screams and screams and screams.