“I’ve always hated the chattering of rats, maybe it’s fitting that it’s how I die.” I stare at the words on the page after scribbling them down, none of the words even filling my mind like a fish staring at a skyscraper.
“You’re gonna let all the heat in, Cassia.” I hear my roommate Aquatia yelling before I see her coppery red hair enter the room, her deep forest-green eyes staring back at me expectantly. She always was an unusual one and I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t always annoying. I guess everybody always seems to annoy me, perhaps that’s why I fantasize over watching people bleed out, dark crimson rivers spewing from a fresh wound. I suppose I’ve always been this way, from seeing my old classmate scrape their knee years ago, to seeing a murder victim get rushed to the closest medic, thick red blood spewing from their neck. I wonder what it would be like to take a human life myself, would I feel happy, sad, guilty, or maybe even relieved?
“Seriously Cassia, close the window.” Aquatia starts going off again on how I’m “never listening”.
“Right”, my tone fails to hide my annoyance, closing the window which was only a foot away from Aquatia. The dust that had gathered on the top displeased, finding a new object to settle themselves on.
“Good, now don’t forget about going hunting with Reginald later, it might be good for you to stop being huddled over a desk all day.” God I hate the way she talks like she's all high and mighty
“I can’t believe I somehow agreed to this” I mutter softly to myself before turning and facing Reginald, his dark hand attempting to cover his graying hair but between the deep-carved out wrinkles bunching up on his forehead to the dark sunken circles residing beneath his eyes we both know he’s well past his prime.
“Let’s get this over with I guess”, Knowing it’s not his fault Aquatia’s making him do this, I attempt to speak calmly to him.
“Here”, Muttering under his breath he tosses a knife to me, its blade sheathed and hidden away by a cover of thick worn leather.
“Remember to stay quiet, we don’t want to alarm the animals.” Like I needed that advice, he practically stomps around everywhere he goes and I need to be quiet? No chance, but reluctantly I head deeper and deeper into the dense forest with him, taking the softest steps I can, my feet brushing against the ground with every step. While Reginald is practically an elephant on the forest floor, bound to scare away any animal in a 20 mile radius. Until I see a small vermin rat scurrying out between two bushes.
“Don’t move”, I whisper to Reginald, who decides to finally stop acting like an elephant and listen to me for once. With rapid speed I unsheathe my blade, tucking the leather cover in my belt before bringing the shiny blade down on the scruff of the rat, its blood spurting out of its neck with crimson beauty, leaving a damp patch of blood on the thick forest floor, soaking the dry moss wet and deep red. God I hate rats. Muttering to myself I pick up the newly dead rat's body and toss it to him, his instincts kicking in at the last second and avoiding a leaking rat to the face by a hair. Still managing some of the blood to splatter on him thankfully. A few hours later I managed to kill 2 pigs, 3 quails, and another nasty rat.
“Here comes the disgusting part,” Reginald states with a sigh. For reasons I can’t explain he doesn’t seem all-too thrilled to gut these animals. But alas, despite Aquatia’s protests we take the animals back to my house, gutting the animals right on the kitchen counter. Their blood mixes together, sure to leave a stain on the clean marble counter. Once the animals are all sliced open and most of the now-cool crimson blood drained, I go in with my hands, pulling out their thick guts and gently plopping them in a bowl for whatever Reginald decides to do with them, as I pull the heart of a pig out I start to get an unusual craving to try this thick bloody heart currently residing in my hands.
“I’ll keep this one for research purposes.” Trying (and barely succeeding) to say calmly to Reginald, being sure to hide the true purpose of my actions, I can tell by the confused look on his face since I never show interest in researching most things, but despite this he doesn't object. Eventually I finish gutting the last pig, no thanks to Reginald since he’s just standing there looking like an idiot and doing nothing. Finally I get him to leave, shoving the bloody bowl of guts into his hands as he heads out the door.
“Finally, he’s gone.” I whisper to no one in particular, just glad that after everything this morning that there’s nobody else home. Until my gaze slowly falls on the pig heart I stored away thirty minutes previous. Almost like I’m scared of it I start cautiously approaching the counter where the heart lies, it having stopped pulsing a while ago. With trembling hands I reach out for the bloody discard, lifting it to my face. The sharp metallic smell of blood clouding my senses. Slowly, I inch the heart closer and closer to my mouth, and with a sharp jolt I bite into the heart. A task more suited to be done over the sink due to the blood oozing out of it once my teeth sink into the rubbery but firm organ. As quickly as I bite into it my mouth starts filling up with the heart's tangy metal-tasting blood, having to pull it away from my face to snap off a mid-sized chunk of it, manually moving my jaw up and down to chew. The taste is different, unlike anything I’ve had so far that its taste doesn’t have a justifiable comparison, although the closest might be a slight hint of carrot mixed with raw meat, fresh beef and week old chicken to be exact. A twisted thought pops into my head now, what would it be like to do this with a human? Their iron-filled blood dripping out of their heart as I would sink my sharp teeth into them. Would they scream before I kill them? Or would they be too scared to even make a noise? Their blood would spill all over the ground, only offering them the peaceful promise of death when they lose enough of it.
Sunlight pierced through the panels as I wake up to a morning ray of sunlight blinding my eyes. I can’t even recall going to my room yesterday, let alone falling asleep. I guess I probably did after I ripped apart and ate the pig heart. Its taste still lingers on the back of my tongue. At least the sharp taste of its blood has gone away.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,’ I hear Aquatia’s insufferably high pitched voice jolting me out of my peaceful tranquility, “Turns out the King and his council are arriving here today! Apparently they’re gonna have an important meeting here out of all places, isn’t that exciting!” To be honest, I couldn’t care less about the dumb king and his council, I mean what have they ever done for me? Although, in the back of my mind I do wonder what they’ll be discussing, if it’s something important then it should be in the Capitol and not my tiny little town.
“Hello? You in there?” Already prepared for this daily lecture I tune her out as she starts going on and on about how it would be nice for me to listen to her for once.
“Fine, I’m getting up, it’s not a crime to sleep in every now and then, you know?” Muttering my words out I start getting out of bed, slowly rising to my feet since my legs aren’t fully awake yet. The last thing I want is to start my morning by landing face-first on my hard concrete floor. Generally I feel more groggy and sleepy in the morning, but for some strange reason I feel almost wide awake after only a few seconds of standing up. Around 10ish minutes later without even needing coffee for once, I’ve gotten dressed, brushed my teeth, and even made warm fluffy pancakes drizzled in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries for breakfast.
“What is happening?” I mutter to myself, looking out of the kitchen window and being met with a massive extravagant and colourful parade happening, a sight I’ve never seen before in my small town in Moesia Superior. Perhaps it’s all for the King and his “all so important” council, who knows? It’s certainly a “different” sight, seeing all this colourful confetti and decorations littering the normally lifeless streets. Wondering who the unlucky fool must be who has to clean all of it up, certainly not the nobles since they’re “all so much better” than everyone that they would never even dream of having to clean up the mess they created. From time after time again I’ve always found myself harbouring deep resentment for them in the back of my mind. I hate the idea of people praising, even worshipping them like they’re some false god. Maybe it’s time for someone to teach them a lesson. And so I rush back to my room to start planning, jolting words upon words on a scrap piece of paper, pausing occasionally to make small diagrams, a burning building, slain guards, blood leaking out from a door. And finally it was done. A step by step detailed guide on how I’m going to do this. I will make them learn. And so, I set off, slinging my brown real-leather bag over my left shoulder. Sure it’s got a lot of wear-and-tear over the years but it still works perfectly fine at holding heavy stuff. Treading along the strangely colourful streets I approach the Justice Building, it’s had its moment in the past, its fate being reduced to an ancient crumbling mess, however I know it’s where the meeting will be held. With all of the confidence I can muster I start approaching the guards, knowing perfectly well that there will be no way to stop the consequences that follow.
“Excuse me,” Calmly I start speaking to a taller ashy blonde guard, probably somewhere in his late 20s to early 30s, he still doesn’t realize the mistakes he’s working for I guess, “Sir, you dropped something.” With a mock smile of innocence he sees a small bullet that must've fallen from his loose pocket.
“Why thank you-”, he starts, leaning down to pick up the bullet only to be met with my sharp dagger driving straight into his subclavian artery on the right side of his neck, scarlet fluid gushing out almost immediately after. I see him clutching his neck in pain, collapsing against the wall behind him. A slight smile cracks my lips as he falls to the ground, too weak to try anything until he meets his fate. Seeing the light leave his eyes fills me with a tinge of twisted joy. There brings little time to take a breath from when he dies to another guard rounding the corner, his eyes widening in fear by what he sees. During the time it takes for him to process what’s happened and to call for help I’ve already dug the still bloody knife into the left part of his sternum, puncturing his heart while doing so. Unfortunately blood doesn't gush out like it did the other guard, but with him collapsing forward it’s safe to say it’s still as lethal. Now is where the fun really starts. But time now becomes of the essence; It’s only a matter of time before yet another guard comes and sees what I’ve done. With shaking hands I toss my bag off of my shoulder, it landing on the ground with a soft “plop.” Rapidly I pry the zipper open, revealing a can of gasoline and a pack of matches I had bought about a week ago to go camping deep in the woods by myself. Dumping litre after litre of gasoline out, I walk around the edge walls of the decaying wooden building. With a twisted smile I strike up all of the matches and toss them into different sections of the gasoline, watching the building go up in flames. Painful screams fill the air as the King and his council start trying to break open the door in means for escape, but it proves to be no use with the two bodies of the murdered guards slumped against the door, leaving them trapped and helpless as they start cooking alive. Their screams die out as they realize there’s no escape for them, only a harsh pain-filled death in sight. By only a few minutes their screams have long stopped as they’ve met their twisted end. With brutal force I take a hammer I had stored away in the front pocket of my bag and slam it against the door in heaving strikes. Eventually the door breaks open and I see the end result of the chaos, chairs and dead people scattered everywhere, the flames feasting on their charred skin. And then, I see the King, or what remains of his burned body. I drop to my knees. Trembling is the only accurate way to describe my hands as I drag my dagger from his neck to his stomach, gutting him like a fish. Scooping out his heart with my bare hands I take a long-dragged out bite, savouring the clean porky taste. I guess this is what they meant when people say to “Eat the rich” because it tastes absolutely delicious. During the course of the next 15 minutes I gut and feast on the rest of their tainted hearts, feeling the warmth of their scarlet-clotted blood soak into me. It doesn’t take long for more guards to show up. Arresting me on the spot, blood still dripping from the cracked corners of my mouth I don’t resist arrest. With my trial awaiting simply hours later, it seems they can’t wait to kill me I guess. That’s why it’s to the shock of nobody when I’m sentenced to death by rats. I’ve always wondered what happens to the person when the rats get unleashed unto them. Guess I’ve got a front row seat to my own execution. They get to work almost immediately after I’m sentenced. Dragging me to what will be the room I will be tortured and die in, they strap me to a metal table, restraining me so there will be no escape from my bitter end. To my shock I see a familiar face enter the room, a black mask covering his face but there’s no doubt it’s him, Reginald.
If something’s going to kill me first it might just be the squeaking of those horrid rats trapped in that leary rusting cage. A fitting way for them to make sure I suffer while I die. When Reginald places the cage on my abdomen I begin to realize the true cruelty of this death sentence. These rats will eat me alive. Removing the bottom of the cage, Reginald lets the rats squirm around on me but still confined to their tiny circular prison. It’s only when he returns with heat resistant gloves on and a handful of molten hot coals that I truly understand what my sentence entails, placing the steaming hot coals on the bottom of the cage and him bearing a pitiful gaze proves my observations correct. The rats, reacting naturally to the immense heat, start trying to escape in any way they can, which in this case refers to them trying to burrow themselves through my stomach. A gut wrenching scream tears from my lips as the rats start to break skin, a searing pain ripping through me. I begin to question my morals and sense of judgement, what decisions led me to this brutal demise. However I’m well aware that begging and pleading for mercy won’t do me any good, especially with my screams echoing off of the tiny walls in my death room. My breath hitches as a rat hits an artery, crimson fluid flowing freely, coating what’s left of the skin covering my stomach. Blood pools on the table and floor beneath me, leaving evidence bound to stay long after my death with how much will stain. Trying to think of anything to distract me from this immense pain I rack my brain but come out empty-handed. These rats better be enjoying how my flesh and blood taste from the way they’re feasting or I’ll personally haunt each one of them until they die, not that I even believe in that kind of crap but it’s a nice thought.
By the time the sweet promise of death creeps into my vision my vocal cords are beyond damage, the blood vessels rupturing and the delicate mucous membrane long destroyed that not even a peep threatens to leave my mouth when it opens. My body has long since started shutting down. Making moving my neck to see the progress the rats have made is an impossible task, but from where it feels they are I can guess they’re almost halfway done. Darkness starts enveloping my vision, the rats still hard at work to escape the smothering heat of the coals. I think of Aquatia, has she heard the news yet or is she still waiting for me to come home? Sure I’ve always disliked her but it’s only fair that someone gives her proper closure, maybe it should be Reginald’s job, since he’s the one who caused my death in the first place. Though it was also my fault since I’m the one who chose to commit treason in the first place. As the last of my spotty vision fades out I can hear Reginald whisper, "I'm sorry.” Into my left ear though my hearing starts fading out as well. God I hate the chattering of rats.