At first, she didn't know what to do. She had chased the boy, playfully, never really tired. After a few days, she got bored. Then she finally caught him and strapped him to a quite comfortable sofa at her house, or rather, Gordon's.

She didn't really know what to do next. So she took an electrical saw and tore the boy's left arm in an agonizingly slow pace. She grinned as he screamed. She laughed like a child who just got a new toy when the arm was finally dismembered. She didn't bother to wrap up what's left of the arm attached to the boy, though. She left him half-conscious, playing and fideling with his arm, knocking it at things, throwing it around, and sometimes even knocking it on the boy's head.

Still, she got bored easily, though.

Pondering on what she would do next, she poked the boy's raw flesh, thinking deeply. After a few moments of the boy screaming, asking her to stop doing what she was doing to his arm, she licked her lips, smiling like a twisted Cheshire cat. "I kind of hoped you would say that." The boy gulped.

The girl clicked her fingers, summoning a red ball of flame. Focusing the flame on her finger, she pointed it on the boy's chest, scalding it, making him bite his tongue to refrain from another scream. She dug her finger deeper, unsatisfied with his reaction. Instead of the sound she was looking for, she saw blood dripping between the boy's teeth. He had bit his tongue hard, almost slicing it with his own teeth. Frowning, she pushed her finger down his body slowly, carving a symbol. The boy jerked violently, trying to ease his pain.

"Scream," the girl commanded coldly, her eyes and voice devoid of humane emotion. And scream he did, till all the air had left his happily, she jerked her finger off the boy and patted her hand on her jeans. "Good boy," she said. The boy just whimpered, eyes half-closed, trying to stay awake.

Sensing that the boy was weak from the torture, with her hands and clothes still dripping with blood she cooked up some food for the boy, to get his strength back. The concoction suspiciously smelled like meat, though the boy didn't know of what kind. But with whatever's left of his conciousness he noticed his arm that the girl had played with was gone. He shuddered. He refused the meal, of course, but she shoved it down his throat anyway. "It's good for you," she had said. The meal was still fresh from the pan, and his throat burned from the searing pain. It stung his eyes, tears flowing out involuntarily. The girl looked up, her face was of genuine concern. She smiled at him sadly. "It's okay, Fletcher. It'll all be fine."

It didn't.


OHMIGOAT VALKYRIE/DARQUESSE IS A PSYCHOPATH! D:

This is what happens when you watch too much Criminal Minds, people!

Funny. Coz I don't really want him to suffer, I love Fletcher... But I am a masochist.

It hurt me when my favourite character's tortured...by me. 0.o

Please, no flames? But I would love constructive reviews. :D

~NutCrack
5 September 2011