Page 28 of Beautiful Nightmare

A dry cough from Royce brings back my attention to the present, her words softly spoken with purpose. “It’s why your eyes shine bright.”

Nodding, I agree.

The curse has been removed, and now I thrive.

Swiftly, I saunter back to the broken girl lying hopelessly on the ground. Kneeling back down, my fingers adjust Royce’s hair, sweeping it off her face, as I whisper wickedly into her ear, “And when this bitch dies, so does your suppression spell.”

Her eyes open wide, and she is suddenly very alert.

The words I’ve just spoken could be a lie. I have no proof of them being facts. But hope has returned, and if it fails once Agatha falls, Royce’s sorrow will belong to me.

Watch this.

I rise.Stepping back, I slip both hands into my trouser pockets.

Smiling sinfully, I begin.

“Royce! Stand the fuck up.” I kick her side, encouraging her to obey. The tip of my shoe connects with her ribs. The force from the impact forces her body to slide back, and I hear her ribs crack, much to my delight.

She winces, and my cock hardens once more. Tapping my head, I encourage him to calm down. Soon, he will get to play too.

To my dismay, Royce doesn’t rise.

Sweeping my own hair back off my forehead, I force her to join me in witnessing the great fall of Agatha within her manor.

Staring deeply, I pull Royce up, placing her on her bare feet next to me. As my hold releases, she crumbles. Bending over, I grip her arm, and through gritted teeth, I threaten, because if she continues to test me, I will do it, “You will be fucking present for this. Your disobedience will not be tolerated. I will make you rewatch, on repeat, what I did to your vampire.”

Sniffles of sadness follow, and my eyes roll while yanking her back up.

Hunched over, she babies her left side with trembling hands. “I’m here. I’m fucking here. Watching. Is this what you wanted from me? Are you happy now?”

Immensely,I silently say to myself.

Take the knife.From ear to ear. And be sure to not shed a tear.

Agatha’swilted old hand wraps around the black handle of the chef’s knife. Casually, she brings it down from her eye and places the sharp tip on the side of her face, beside her tragus. Forcefully, she impales herself. The knife makes a clean cut as she drags it across her face. Blood begins to bead out, staining her face, running down onto her vile brown frock. Some crimson leaves droplets on the floor beneath her.

Smiling, my white teeth show, unable to suppress the glee coming over me as I watch her demise by my hand… myfucking mind.

Glancing at Royce, her stare is toward Agatha’s feet. That will not fucking do.

My hand grips her face, squeezing her cheeks. I can feel her molars against my fingers. The overwhelming desire to lick her face washes over me, and I do, deliberately, all the way up to the corner of her eye. My teeth nip, and my lips move against her skin. “You will watch.”

Royce attempts to swallow, then trembles before nodding yes.

Releasing my hold, I reward her with a muttered “Good girl,” then return my focus back to Agatha, who has made the cut all the way to the corner of her lip.

Taking the knife, she swipes it between her teeth and continues to slice the other side. Through her cheek and muscle, her jawbone and molars can be seen. Blood is profusely gushing out of her now, but not enough to kill her, just for her to choke on.

Her face is carved, and her chin is stained. The droplets of crimson are turning into an exquisite puddle that I wish to bathe in later.

Drop the knife.

Agatha’s handreleases the blade. It falls to the side, bouncing off the floor several times before finally settling with a clatter.

My hand wraps around Royce’s tiny wrist, and her feet trip over one another as I drag her behind me to the kitchen. With great force and pleasure, I rapidly move Agatha ahead of us, then slam her body against the cold tiled floor while reciting this poem.

Dancing and prancingto the wood stove oven we go,