FicWad

The room was warm, and yet there was a distinct chill in the air. The type of chill that sank past the flesh, and straight into your marrow. Tonight was the night. The castle itself was warm, and ominously silent. Poet was beat, and worn down from a day filled with useless pleading. The days beatings had seemed to last days on end, instead of the usual eighteen hours she endured. So, she didn't seem to notice the strange silence in the (usually obnoxiously loud) household. 

Just as she started to panic, a sharp pain was felt in her abdomen, and she completely forgot all sense of panic. She worked her way into the massive wardrobe, slowly peeling off her layers of weapons, chains, leather, and furs. Then she visited the kitchen, dumped the days bodies on the stiff, thick wooden table. She frowned down on the pale, sickly looking faces. 

"You need to smile more, silly." She mumbled to herself. "I know! I'll give you some playmates!"

She grinned cheerfully, pleased with being so helpful towards her friends. After all, she knew that she was gone all day every day - they deserved someone who would always be there with her. 

So she hauled them down to the dungeon stairs, where she kept her equipment. She slowly took out her needle, her thread, and her trusty scissors. She laughed softly to herself, remembering all the good times she had had with these toys. 

She carefully withdrew her razor, and began to slice open the dead girls eyes. She took a long, clean fork and began to slowly pick the eye out if it's old socket. She gently placed the eyes in a mysterious green liquid, which oozed and weighed to the touch. She kissed it's jar, and shut it tight, lifting it up to join her other jars of body parts lining her shelves. 

Next, she took her needle and thread. Slowly, painstakingly, stitching in the cold black button. She frowned down at her handiwork. 

"No, no not enough... Not... Not enough... No, no.. "
She took out her rubbing alcohol and vigorously rubbed it against the stiff surface of the button. Still unhappy with the work she - ah... A sharp pain in her abdomen, and all her troubles were gone. She knew what to do, now. Why hadn't she thought of it before? 

Once again, she took her wicked little needle, and her wiry thread, and started at her friends mouth. She sighed in relief, as her patients lips began to furl up, into a cheeky grin. 

"No, no, Ms. Ella. You can't show teeth. We can't have teeth." 

She took out a pair of wire cutters, and broke off a singular tooth, despite the fact that it wasnt the right tool to use. 

A moan escaped from the childish mouth of her patient. 

"No, no, Ms. Ella. You can't show life. We can't have life." She said it merrily, as if giving a close friend nothing more than a helpful reminder. But as the razor was in her hand again, things weren't looking up for her friend. 

Blinded by the buttons, and a certain lacking of eyes, all her playmate could do was listen, feel, and smell.  

She heard the soft little remarks of her captor, gently reminding her not to move. 

She could feel the rugged saw, brutally detaching a beloved leg. Her cry of pain was smothered with the little black thread. Now she could feel the pain in her face as well, as she came further and further into consciousness. 

She could smell the sickening scent of formaldehyde penetrating through the cold room.    

"You're going to die in here, sweetheart" was the soft reply to the experiments confused mumbling.