AN- Yeah, I've been reading 'The Silence of the Lambs' recently, and thoroughly enjoyed it. The only downside is that the author didn't really go into depth of Jame Gumb's character: So I thought I would. Although I'm sure it's not up to par with the actual novel. So here goes…
This is his first victim-Frederica Bimmel.
He was half through needing it: the slow, dull rising of preferable vision, black and white in the eyes of the other female standing before it, yet green in his.
Everything was green to him. A butterfly danced in the midday sun, perhaps frightful of getting too close. James smiled at this thought, the bright, toothy grin he was used to. This was the one he had used on her, lustrous eyes calving out her heart in a body bigger than any emotion felt by Jame Gumb. Unless lust, nothing could match his lust.
It was his lust the moved him forward, eyes darkening in their extent of green-like greed, lust, envy. He envied her; that much was apparent. She had a beautiful body. She didn't deserve it: he deserved it. This though spurred him forward, hands gripping at the mechanical device clenched in his glitter-painted fingers. Gumb shuddered, a short laugh escaping his lips. She love his laugh, had always told him so, and wasn't he being very nice as to let it be the last thing she heard?
Something flickered in his line of vision, something that shouldn't have been there, Gumb narrowed his eyes, fingers turning white against the gun that he had yet to raise. No, nothing could come between them now. He couldn't get distracted by anything…anyone. Anybody? Somebody was here? What if he got caught? Prison again, most likely. He remembered the dirty habits he'd picked up from prison.
A sneer plagued Gumb's countenance, reaching his eyes a burning hate for what he had done in prison. What he had needed to do to survive. How many people had touched him in that manner? How many men had had him? Hurt him…
Too many. He remembered his reasoning, knew he was right. Bloody queers deserved it, they always do with their disgusting habits. The hate flared in his eyes stronger this time, with more venom. What would his mother say? White knuckles twitched on his right hand, eager to finish what he was here for. Gumb moved forward, pressing a hand to the already pale, shivering flesh of the big woman, before he moved back, a 'tut' escaping his lips. It wasn't ready yet…
The flesh was firm still. Obviously it had been eating lots, and not losing any weight at all, Gumb cursed, before relaxing his grip on the gun, picking up the small poodle at his feet.
"Ah, mummy isn't happy, Precioussss…" The dog seemed to hear him, and whimpered at her "mummy's" unhappiness. "No…she isn't…Precious. Maybe tomorrow… or next week perhaps. And then mummy will be beautiful." Gumb nodded, a small smile ebbing his lips. "And mummy will be beautiful won't she precious?" His head bobbed up and down again, before he exited the basement, carrying his precious and the gun he'd come to love with him.
The woman's eyes, which were screwed up tightly, opened at the sound of his ascending the stairs. It didn't help, still darkness enfolded her, pulling her into a deep cold chasm. Was this what they called hell? This space, held in the absence of time, collapsing around eyes weary in the unflagging darkness, knowing there was only more dark to come. She shuddered in her confines, over large stomach rumbling. He had been nice, showing her attention, and always, always charming. She'd thought he'd loved her, and the promises he'd made…Oh! They still sounded so tempting in her ears. And she wished that he hadn't done this. Why was he doing this?
The woman frowned, lifting a weary hand to her lips. She'd bitten and licked them, hoping to find moisture for them in some form, and in doing so they had split. Unable to wash the blood away, the blood still stained the pink rosebuds, and a melancholy sigh escaped those lips. How she hated this, to be kept in a horrible place, with only a sanitation bucket, and a bath every now and again: When her captor felt like it.
A small breath of cold air escaped bruised lips, shaking hands pulling her knees to her chest. This was a difficult task in itself, yet made all the more difficult by her shaking limbs, and numb legs. Still, she needed to warmth, and maybe a pain killer. The dull ache in her head increased, and she closed her eyes against it, chin lolling onto her chest in an acquiescent manner.
Meanwhile, in the room above her, Gumb was smiling to himself, having already gotten over his earlier disappointment. He was watching his reflection in the mirror, pulling at the locks with a sort of strange interest dancing in his orbs. The poodle sat at his feet, wagging her tail at her master obediently. She sent a low growl below the floorboards, as if warning the woman not to move.
Gumb turned, bending down to pat the dog in her head, picking her up to bundle in his arms. "Ah, what shall we get you to eat, Precious?" A small chuckle escaped his lips. "We'll get you something nice, for a very nice dog."