I twist the limb, detaching it the rest of the way from the tendons.
Gary’s a screamer. I giggle, enjoying the shock and outrage on his face as he stares at his missing arm. I offer the bloody limb to him.
“You want to bite down on it for the next arm?” His eyes slide to me, the pupils nearly gone. Funny how he came in with blown out pupils and now they’re tiny little pinpricks in the whites of his eyes.
“Fuck you,” he pants breathlessly. I smile and chuck the arm to the side.
“Fine,” I chirp, stepping back over him. I grab his hand and saw off each of his fingers. The little demon won’t be able to damage the walls like that last one.
“See, Mortis? I’m learning!” I exclaim, pointing at the chopped-up man.
Mortis offers a small smile and a nod. He doesn’t show emotion much, but the gleam in his eye tells me he’s amused.
“Good job, baby girl,” he murmurs.
With a wide smile, I turn back to Gary. A missing arm, no fingers on his other, and a fractured foot.
I really want to watch him run away. But first, I need to cauterize his wound, otherwise he’ll continue to lose blood too quickly, and then we won’t get to play. I keep a mini blowtorch stashed in one of the end tables for this purpose.
Hurrying over to grab the torch, I snatch it out of the pink drawer and then crouch in front of Gary.
“You ready?” I ask. He looks at me like I’m insane.
That hurts my feelings.
So, I click the button, grinning at the blue fire that erupts from it. When Gary sees the flame, his eyes widen and he goes to get up. I crawl on top of him, sitting on his stomach and quickly bring the flame to where his arm once was attached.
Screams spill from his mouth in piercing waves. The smell of charred human flesh and meat fill the air. I scrunch my nose, repulsed by the smell. Demons smell like shit.
He squirms desperately beneath me as I make quick work of cauterizing the wound.
“There!” I announce proudly, clicking off the flame. “Now we can play a little longer.”
I stand and step back, watching the demon thrash and moan, still riding the waves of his wound being sealed shut. Sweat floods from his pores, stinking up the room even further.
“Quit being a baby,” I whine, exasperated. When he continues to complain, I grit through my teeth, “Get up!”
His eyes snap to me. “Go on,” I urge impatiently. “Try to escape.”
Why do all the demons look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them to run? They always think I’m tricking them when I’m very serious. I love when they run. True, they won’t ever escape. But I’m only telling them to try. Whether they’re successful is totally out of their hands.
With great pain and even greater slowness, Gary rolls to sit up.
“How the fuck do you expect me to run, you crazy ass bitch?” he snarls at me, looking hopelessly at his foot. He looks like he’s on the verge of passing out. A greyish pallor has bleached his skin.
Well. The skin that’s not covered in his blood.
Pretty soon, he’ll pass out. Which is exactly why he needs to run. The hope of escape will get his adrenaline rushing again. It’ll keep him conscious long enough for me to have more fun with him before I end his life.
“Get up!” I screech, stomping my foot. I hate when they don’t listen! He startles, looking at me with the same expression. Like I’m the crazy one when he’s the one with an evil soul.
He maneuvers onto his knee and uses his good foot to push off the ground. Sweat continues to pour from his face and drips into his eye. He squeezes them shut, probably to abate the sting from sweat mixing into an eye with a missing cornea. Gritting his teeth, he takes his first step. And immediately falls back down. Looks like he’s not scared enough.
“If you don’t run in fifteen seconds, I will remove one of your eyeballs,” I threaten.
I’ll do it, too.
He glares at me and spits at my feet.
I gasp and step back. Curling my lip, I consider how to get him up.
“If you can get up and open one of the doors, I’ll let you go.”
Finally, hope trickles back into his eyes. The pain was overbearing, and he started to give up. He just needed a little nudge to get going.
“Ring around the rosies,” I sing, taking on the child-like haunting voice. His movements quicken, and soon enough, he’s back on his feet and limping down the hallway. Broken foot be damned.
Giddiness overtakes me. I bounce on my feet, giving him a good head start. He’ll be laughably easy to catch. I don’t want it to be over too soon.
“Pocket full of posies.”
Several crashes followed by loud cursing. He fell down the stairs. I laugh loudly and run out of the room and make my way to the stairs. He’s at the bottom, groaning in pain as he struggles to get up. When he spots me, his eyes widen and resumes his struggles with renewed energy.
Colorful curses slither from his mouth as he gets back up on his feet and turns towards the front door. Cronus is standing there, completely still as he watches Gary.
“What is wrong with you? I thought you wanted me to run?!” he shouts. Cronus doesn’t react. I tiptoe down the stairs, stopping halfway down.
“I said you have to open the door,” I clarify. He doesn’t turn to acknowledge me, the scary man before him stealing all his attention and fear. But he does listen. He barrels towards Cronus, shoves him aside, bends and bites onto the handle.
I giggle, amused by how cute he looks trying to open a door with his mouth. For a solid minute, I let him struggle to open the door with his teeth. He
