Page 26 of Beautiful Nightmare

“So beautiful, just like my mama in the garden.”

Looking over to the devil beside me, his eyes, still bright white, are in a trancelike state.

Swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobs, and his face radiates happiness.

He must feel me focusing on him because I am just as quickly forced back to seeing the heartache in the garden. Beckham.

Maggots and centipedes wiggle and crawl over his body. Dead, brown, brittle shrubs surround him, attempting to steal his light and his beauty. But they can’t have it. No one can. I want to fight the brown vines intertwining around his limbs, but I know it’s of no use. Prince would stop me from jumping.

The stake is missing. Instead, cockroaches climb out of the vacant hole.

Please, make it stop,I plead internally.

And I think Prince can hear me because slowly, he turns his head. And with mischief in his voice, he asks, “Are you ready for the ghost story?”

13

PRINCE

Having had my fun playing with Royce’s fragile mind, it’s now time to focus on the queen cunt, Agatha. That dirty, dumb bitch is going to talk today and tell us a story for the ages. A story which will haunt my pet ever so perfectly. Resentment will build further, breaking her while under my thumb.

Speaking of my pet, I glance over to her and roll my eyes.

Royce is currently collapsed, wallowing in a wave of grief, now that we are back inside.

Snot hangs off her nose, saliva webs across her open lips, and tears sneak out from behind her closed eyes.

Smirking, I enjoy watching Royce in her most fragile state of mind. Licking my sharp teeth, I watch in amusement, wondering when she will realize the hold I had over her has been released. And as disappointed as I am that she was able to get out of the cold cellar under the stairs, it all ended up working out.

Walking over to Royce, I kick her pathetic, frail body, and she whimpers in distress.

Her body is just as weak as her mind.

Easily manipulated, moldable by my hands, and a believer when I tell her just how worthless she is. All her self-loathing she thinks I know nothing about, but behind closed doors it is all I envision when stroking my giant cock. To her name.

Leaning over, my fingers intertwine with the base of her scalp, gripping her two-toned locks tightly.

“Get the fuck up,” I spit while dragging her up, yanking her hair forcefully enough that I can feel the roots pulling out of her scalp where they are deeply embedded.

Royce’s dainty hands reach up and wrap around my fist. “No, no. It hurts. Stop.”

Her pleas fall on deaf ears.

Dark makeup streams down her rosy cheeks.And as I yank her across the floor, the shirt I put her in rolls up, exposing her bare bottom and pussy. Her feet kick in another attempt to resist my power, but my control is the only thing keeping her grounded.

Swollen eyes look up at me, but pity will not be given, nor will remorse be felt.

Reaching Agatha, I toss Royce beneath her floating feet, watching as her head bounces off the wall. Followed by a loud wallow. With no patience for her, I step forward and place my black leather dress shoe on top of her face, applying pressure while looking disapprovingly down at her. “No tears, or screams, will make this stop.” I pause, smirking down at her while applying more pressure, squeezing her face tighter between my foot and the floor. Her head has to be killing her, I think, while cackling into the room. “In fact, it’s only going to make all this more interesting.”

Stepping on her head harder, I apply more pressure with glee before pushing off of her. The imprint of my custom leather shoes shines in the bright red against her pale skin. I step back, and I admire the spectacle before me. Holding my arms out, my head falls back as I bask in the glory which I have single-handedly created.

Perhaps pride is flooding my ego. It’s not an arrogant ego; it’s an earned and deserved one. Because just fucking look at what I am capable of.

It’s masterful.

My name may be Prince, but I am a fucking king.

“Agatha, slippery and slimy. Your oath to protect those who you take into your care has been broken time and time again,” I taunt, tsking her. And having the knife tease her eyeball, it circles slowly in small, intentional movements.