Three

'Oh God this can't be happening' Naia screams within her mind as she crawls underneath a table covered with a long white sheet. Her shivering hands cover her mouth and she seizes to breathe as footsteps enter the dark room.

"Don't be afraid. I just want to…for us to merge as one." The sound of an electric saw echoes loud in the small space.

"Didn't you feel it? I felt it. I feel the need for you to be in me. For you to be mine." She sees his soot covered feet pause before the table. Naia looks around her, hoping for anything she could use as a weapon. There is an empty plastic bucket to her right that would definitely do no damage.

"I promise it'll be quick. And no part of you will be wasted. Cross my heart."

'Fuck you' she thinks to herself. It's a useless weapon but it's better than nothing. She clutches the rim of the plastic tightly, prepared to swing as hard as she could.

"Give yourself up baby. I'm not a fan of games." Just as Naia gets the absurd thought to take the man on, a sudden stream of curses catches both their attention.

"Hmm." The sound leads him away from the room. She bolts from under the table and nearly shouts out in happiness at the sight of a vent wide enough to fit her size. She hastily pushes the table against the wall and wastes no time pulling up the latch that would release the vent's door.

She climbs inside, crawling through the confined space as fast as she could. She comes upon another vent overlooking a corridor. She sees no one, but she hears and feels the thumping off some massive figure coming near. She remains still and alert.

Her eyes widen in horror when she sees him. Pulsing sore pink flesh drenched in blood she's sure isn't his own. Large, muscular arms and a bulging belly that seems awfully painful. Glassy eyes stare straight ahead. His yellowing teeth and gums are forever displayed due to the absence of his lips. His nose is also missing and a chunk of skin on his forehead is gone, as if it were scratched away.

"Have to contain it." his voice is familiar.

Naia thought back to all the patients she's ever had. She remembered one particular prisoner, and the realization came to her in a breath-taking rush. She knows this man. She was his nurse ever since her first day in this wretched asylum. She thought of the day they moved him from her care to another facility-at least that's what she was told.

Clearly here he is.

She didn't remember him as this monstrosity. He had actually been quite handsome. And he'd also been the most well behaved patient she'd dealt with.

Now he looks like the last thing you want to come across.

He loved it when she spoke French to him.

He got a hard on when she sung to him in the language-soft and sweet-like.

As she sung she would rub her gentle hands along his back and place swift kisses upon scarred skin. He would embrace her, then, holding her close and taking in her intoxicating scent.

This place did not have her aroma. This place contradicted everything that made her such an ethereal being. He feels guilty, now, for thinking about her as he holds a man's severed head.

This is war times, there's no room for distractions.

"Have to stay focused," Chris tells himself, his lumbering form creeping down a long corridor,

"Have to contain it." but she never, ever, leaves him.

She's always there, somewhere in his blaring conscious, singing or humming or simply talking.

He remembers a time in Iraq. That day when his team were sitting around the base of a tree -directly by the mess hall- eating lunch and drinking beer and doing their best to be cheery in such a hectic place. They were within the perimeters of their base, so they were as relaxed as they could be. Someone made a joke, and he remembered how everyone laughed at it, even though it really wasn't that funny-that's when the bombs went off.

The mess hall exploded. Shards of it pierced the soldier beside him. He remembered the ringing in his ears. The shouts, the cries, the ringing, ringing, ringing. Despite all of it, despite the noise, he heard her. He felt her arms around him, her lips on his lips, her scent imprinting on him.

"Stay focused," He tells himself again.

"Stay focused."

Eddie left home the day he graduated High school. He had packed light, and in the night abandoned the life he didn't deserve to find a new one. He searched for years. And he did find it, ten years later, in a woman from New York, New York.

She even had the perfect name, Pristine.

She was his first everything. His first date, first kiss by a woman, first fuck by a woman, first love from a woman- and he loved her fiercely. He treated her with kindness, he did his best to respect her and cherish her with all his might. He loved her more than his own wretched life. He didn't realize his love had developed into a severe obsession. By the third year of their marriage he had come to the conclusion that she was a divine being, and he worshipped her every demand and want.

What she did to him devastated him.

"Your almost perfect darling." Eddie says, caressing the inner thigh of his latest victim.

"You only need one more adjustment." His hand hovers over the man's private area and a sudden flash of his father comes to mind. Eddie clenches his teeth and picks up the long, garden, sheers from his workbench.

"It'll only hurt for a moment." He failed to realize the man has been blacked out from his, once, thick arms and legs being stripped of their muscle. What Eddie was about to do would, surely, keep him unconscious forever.

Frank hated distractions. He hated losing focus. Even worse, he hated being disturbed during meal times. And thanks to this pale, thin, meat he lost his precious prize. Cutting him into pieces wouldn't be enough to soothe his rage; this meat must suffer. Frank has the blonde man by his neck and he swiftly forces him onto a metal table. The furnace it is connected to springs to life at the press of a button,

"You stay there, and cook." He says harshly and thrusts the table into the furnace closing the door and locking it tight. He listens to the meat scream in terror; the sound makes him chuckle in delight.

He stays by the furnace, waiting for his meat to crisp to perfection. He thinks of what he would eat first. He hasn't tried brain before. His musing makes him drool. His loss of attention prevents him from realizing that his meat is escaping. It takes a loud rumble to snap him back to focus. He opens the furnace and sees his meat crawling out of a whole from the back of the furnace.

"NO!" he tries to go after it but the fire suddenly rises to its full potential.

"NO! NO! YOU WERE MINE!" he shouts furiously.

"FUCK YOU!" the meat shouts back.