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Blossom…
Her fur stood on end when Cary reached for the wolf mask. It took every bit of her training to hold still. Eyes barely open, she watched him move through the room as he turned on the blindingly bright camera lights. Blossom hated him, and his array of sharp and awful things. This creature wanted to take her apart, bone by bone. He’d wear her sinew as a bracelet if she didn’t fight. He thought she was small and weak, and that was her one advantage. The forced change had left her body aching, and she was unsure how quickly she could transform. Cary, their butcher, preened in front of the mirror. This creature was the kind of human her grandmother had warned about. Rotten inside, he was the type of Sheep who could infect others with their cruelty. If she culled him, the world would be a better place for everyone. It seemed so clear now.
The monitors came to life, one by one.
When he spoke, the sound of his voice made bile rise in her throat. “Looks like we have a little time for ourselves.”
With tiny motions, she tested her body while he brought up a live feed.
“I plan to make the most of this while the others are gone.” She could tell he was smiling under the mask by the way his eyes crinkled. Blossom watched his reflection on the monitor. He was going to hurt her. Badly, if he had enough time. What she needed was for him to forget himself and make a mistake. He needed to believe she was just a scared kid. Harmless. Without hope.
Disgustingly happy with himself, he turned toward her. The green light on top of the camera went green. The camera’s great glossy eye focused on her, and the feed sprang up on the monitors. He picked up a fuzzy ball and clipped it to his shirt.
“Welcome back, you sons and daughters of Flamel.” He stepped in front of her cage and turned to preen before the camera. “You must forgive my eager and impatient friends and how they ruined our show. I’m certain that they disappointed you by denying you an exhibition of how these creatures respond to more subtle approaches.” He made a big show of drawing on gloves. “But we have a little time. Why don’t we make the most of it?”
“As you can see, our young friend here is still in her wolf form. Cute little thing, isn’t she?” He approached his table of horrors and lifted one of the syringes. He tipped the needle up and tapped the barrel. “This should revive her nicely.”
Playing into the theater that he believed, she whimpered and made her left fore paw look as if it was twitching. She opened her eyes with a slow blink.
He clicked his tongue and practically purred in the camera’s direction. “Looks like there won’t be a need to use this.” The butcher made a great show of placing the syringe back on the table. Gleaming, the scalpel he lifted into the air caused her to fear grimace. The sharp edge reflected the bright lights as sparks across its honed surface. Her lips peeled back as she showed him her teeth. When he began to laugh, she made her bladder empty. Her urine drained through the bottom of the cage and ran in a stream to the drain in the center of the cement floor. This basement of horrors deserved to be taken down brick by brick.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
The monitor chimed as watchers joined. Distant ghouls logged in, hoping for horror. Ready to see her suffer.
“Poor little thing. Of course, she is frightened.” He crouched down by her cage as if anyone would ever believe his moldering soul could contain any compassion. Could she move with any speed? Whining with a high-pitched plea, she pushed her back into the bars. Believe, she willed, that I am weak. She pretended she could hardly move.
He reached in through the bars and grasped one of her hind legs, confident in his ability. This man was a vain fool. She waited a heartbeat until his grip tightened and he initiated a pull toward the bars. Blossom snapped around and sank her teeth into his wrist. His eyes, rimmed in the gold of his mask, went wide. He shook his hand and pulled back hard, slamming her face into the bars.
Even though she saw stars, Blossom tightened her grip until she felt his bones crunch. She wrenched her head one way and then the other. It took her a few more thunderous heartbeats to realize the high-pitched sound she was hearing was coming from the man. He was screaming. Human being’s bodies broke easily. In desperation, the butcher sank the scalpel held in his fist into her muzzle, piercing her cheek and his own hand.
Planting her feet, she gripped the bars on the floor for purchase with her toes. Using her strength, she pulled backward until she felt bones separate in his wrist, as flesh ripped open. Blood released in a fan-like spray toward the camera, speckling that great dark eye. Would he dare to pull back and use his own weight? The price to pay for freedom was his hand. The blade dislodged and clattered to the floor as he tried with desperation to stop the bleeding, clamping his palm to the widening wound on his wrist. “It’s water running in the sink.” She told herself, as she held fast, eyes tightly closed. “Just water in the sink.” The copper taste filling her mouth made her want to vomit.
His body thumped against the cage as he howled. “Let go!” In desperation, with his free hand, he reached toward the table. Blood fell to the floor, wet and thick. From all the songs she’d heard sung around the fire, she’d thought a culling would be thrilling. Blossom felt no flush of joy or euphoria. Only grim determination held her to her task. One of them had to die. Today she was not taking her turn. She opened her eyes, as a hammer struck one of the solid bars, setting it to ringing. He’d meant to hit her. Wavering from the blood loss, he drew his hand back. Instead of letting go, she shook her head viciously, making his bones grind. His voice rose up the octaves in a scream that made her ears ring. The side of the hammer clanged against the bars as his aim went wildly off.
…
Somewhere in North Dakota …
The boy recoiled, watching the screen through his fingers. “You said this was for a movie. This is a snuff film. Turn it off.” When he reached for the laptop, his best friend stopped him.
“Don’t be a baby. It’s a trailer for a horror movie. You spent the night, just so we could do this.”
“She’s killing him.”
“Well, he was going to kill her.”
“Turn it off. Now!” When he started to cry, his friend ended the feed, and the room filled with darkness. He could still hear the screaming. The image of her golden eyes burned in his mind. As he wept into his hand, he said “I wanna call my mom.” Clumsily, he reached into his pocket for his phone.
“You can’t. She is a cop. My Dad will kick my ass if he finds out we did this.” His friend jerked his phone out of his hand and anger flooded his body. He launched forward, slamming into him, and wrestled it out of his hands. When his friend reached for his phone again, he bit his hand hard enough to draw blood.
“You psycho!”
“Mom.” His voice trembled, but his grip on his phone was solid as the images he had seen replayed in his mind. “There is a little girl that needs your help.”