Sunday, April 7, 2013

Blade Queen, part 3


She tried. Boy, did she ever try.
            She cleared out the toxic plants and berries like I told her to do, and I’m not entirely sure what to feel about that. Is she trying to kill me, or is she not? Does she want me to kill her, or does she not? I really don’t know what to make of this chick anymore.
            But what I do know is that, even though she may have screwed it up tremendously, she’s dedicated more time to me in the space of a morning than anyone had ever done in my entire life. No one’s ever bothered to cook for me. I always had to feed myself, even as a little kid. During the rare occasions that my piece of shit father did cook something, he always messed it up and I always had to redo it to keep myself from getting goddamn food poisoning. Sometimes I think he messed it up on purpose.
            So a part of me—that part that just loves to fight my better nature these days—wants to thank her for at least trying, and for cleaning out the bad plants. But at the same time, the rest of me is asking that part what the hell is wrong with it and beating it senseless for its stupidity, because why would I thank her for a half-assed job? Besides, I know her game. I know why she wants to stay alive so badly. She’s trying to kill me before I kill her. And I will absolutely not let that happen!
            I’ll bet the folks at home would be real fucking thrilled with her if she came running back and told them she’d killed the Forest Devil. Too bad there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen. Now that I truly know her game, I can’t afford to screw around anymore. Lily dies tonight.

***

            I was sure to cook us both a breakfast that wouldn’t kill us, as well as lunch and dinner later on. Luring a victim into a false sense of security isn’t usually my style, but once in a blue moon I get a victim who doesn’t get to know what’s coming. She thanked me ever so graciously for each meal, and I didn’t speak a word to her. At lunch, she picked up on this and began grilling me.
            “Not talking today, Blade Queen?”
            Why the hell do you care?
            “You’re that pissed off about the poison plants, huh?”
            You have no idea, kid.
            “What are you so angry for if you’re just going to kill me anyway?”
            Are you egging me on?
            “Do you usually give the silent treatment to people you’re just going to kill anyway?”
            Only those who are a special kind of screwed. Like you, chick.
            “Well, I don’t know how a killer’s mind works.”
            Shut up.
            She stayed away from me for the rest of the day, giving me perfect time to prepare. I cleaned and sharpened my blade so that it was in the perfect condition for piercing her jugular—a slow and painful death in a sea of blood was the perfect fate for the one who dared to stand up to the queen of death. For the rest of the day I remained in my tent and out of sight, planning the kill out in my head over and over again, acting it out on some old makeshift dummy dolls I’d thrown together for the purpose of planning kills. Someone who attempted to overthrow the queen of blades certainly did not deserve to be made into my midnight snack. I would just dump her into the Pit when I was done with her.
            When night fell, I was ready to attack. I palmed my blade and headed out for the kill. Lily was sleeping in her pitiful ditch, and I smiled hungrily. She had no chance to see it coming! It was perfect!
            That’s when it happened: the all too familiar sounds of rustling in the brush up ahead, too big to be a squirrel or a fox or a coyote. It was a human, an intruder. A distraction from my much more important kill!
            “Son of a bitch!” I kicked at the undergrowth and repeatedly smacked the handle of the blade against my hand. “Damn, damn, damn!” I would end this one quickly. I made my way through the brush and was on him like a panther on a rodent in one red hot minute. My blade was at his throat. I felt the thrill of the kill, that wonderful feeling that I hadn’t felt ever since Lily came into the picture, and it was enough to make me cry out with joy. “You don’t belong here, pitiful little man!” I said through my laughter. “Nobody belongs here but me, and I’ve got much more important things to do than deal with the likes of you.” I’d intended to snuff him out like the flame of a candle before he could even process what was going on, but I suppose I just couldn’t help but fuck around with him a little. I hadn’t gotten to have any sort of fun in days, and the thought of finally getting back to my old games was enough to make me forget about the miserable week I’d been having. He opened his mouth to say something, and I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face against the ground until his nose bled. “You will keep your mouth closed, or your death will be as slow and painful as I can possibly make it,” I said. I held my blade under his bleeding nose. I caught the blood on my blade and lapped it up. It tasted like tarnished metal and sweet red liquor.
            The cretin opened his mouth again, and I slapped him hard across the face and made a deep cut across his left cheek. The blood trickled out, and I squealed for joy and pressed my lips to his cheek to lap it all up. I finally felt like I was returning to myself after I’d been acting like such a jackass all week, and the feeling overwhelmed me. It was simply too much!
            I spent the next few minutes smacking the guy around. I yanked his hair just to hear him cry out and see the hilarious expressions on his face. I slammed his head against the ground again. I pinked his face and neck with my blade until he looked like a bloody slab of meat. I grabbed his arm and forcefully slammed him into trees or into the ground. And finally, when I had had enough fun with this guy, I grabbed him and held him in a vicegrip. He was hyperventilating so fast I thought his lungs would come bursting out of his chest like in a zany cartoon. I flipped him over, then drove my blade as far as it would go into his chest, twisting it around so I could hear it squish everything around in there. I kept digging until I was sure I had reached his heart, then expelled the blade. My first successful kill in ages was a beautiful one!
            I threw his body to the ground and examined him for anything I might like. He had nothing in his pockets, and his shirt and sweatshirt were hideous. But I liked his coat. Winter was fast approaching, and I would need a new coat. I plucked it off of him and leaned in to get a taste of the aftermath of the kill.
            I was nibbling away at the flesh I’d left on his chest when I heard the brush rustling behind me. Two victims in one night? I thought. Hell yes! I palmed my blade and whirled around, and then realized that I had completely forgotten about Lily.
            She was staring me down. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her lips were pressed tightly together, and her body looked as rigid as the corpse I had just been dealing with. Her ghost-white face looked even creepier illuminated by the milky rays of the moonlight. She opened her mouth and let out a cry that sounded like a mouse’s squeak. I abandoned the body and approached her.
            “What do you want from me, girl?”
            Now that I was right in her face, I could see the tears—her eyes were running like water faucets, and somehow that made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. I began to shake, and I hugged myself to hide it, pretending that I was just cold. “So you’re crying, huh?”
            She didn’t say a word.
            “You knew what I was capable of. This almost happened to you. It still can one day. Are you now having second thoughts about your cavalier attitude towards your impending death?”
            No response.
            “I am the queen of blades,” I went on. “I’m the harbinger of death. The grim reaper. Most say I’m a monster. Some say I’m a malevolent, hateful entity. A few even say that I’m the devil. You must’ve heard at least one of the legends about this forest. You know nobody who goes in ever comes out, and now you know why. Are you really that surprised about it?”
            No response. Why couldn’t I stop shaking?
            “Aren’t you going to say something?”
            She turned and walked away. I followed her like a fox stalking its prey, making sure she wouldn’t attempt to run away. She didn’t, though. She just climbed back into the ditch and curled up under the sweatshirt and the flimsy blanket I had given her.
            I don’t understand her game anymore. The girl is positively insane. 

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