Tales of Genocyde Chapter Four: DethSpital
I was awakened hours later to the sound of my father. Didn't I specifically ask Cera NOT to call my father if anything ever happened to me? I was certainly not in the mood to deal with that bastard today.
"Didn't I tell you do do everything to get her face back to normal?! I don't want a freak daughter walking around! I have a reputation as a general to uphold!" He shouted to the doctor.
"Sir! I have done all I can. Since Dominatrix is so small, I did not have nearly enough skin to graft!"
Yeah, the doctor can thank my father for that complication. Father drove me into an eating disorder that lasted many years. And now my face is permanently cratered. Just wonderful. I hope it left a great, brutal scar to haunt my father.
"Ah, Domi! You are awake!! I believe I know why you got burned! Look what I found in your notebook!"
The bastard held up my birthday card from Toki.
"I told you NOT to associate yourself with that Wartooth boy!!"
"I do NOT live in your house anymore! I do NOT have to follow your prejudiced rules!"
"Don't you talk that way to me, girl!"
"Get out of my life! I never want to hear from you again!" I shouted, ripping the letter and card out of my father's hands.
"DOMINATRIX MILAN GENOCYDE!!"
He slapped the burn area, making me howl in agony.
"Listen here, you little bitch! I will stay out for now, but later, it won't be so easy! Dethklok is being investigated by the government. Now that I know for sure that Toki Wartooth is a member, it will make your life a whole lot worse. If he doesn't hate you now...he will pretty soon."
A nurse tended to my wound as he exited abruptly. I screamed as the ointment was dabbed on. This day will probably come back to bite me in the ass.
I shakily opened up my letter once I was alone. Miss Domi Genocyde:
The members of Dethklok would like to invite you to participate in our search for our next Pyrotechnics director. Be at the gates of Mordhaus by 12:00 a.m. on Tuesday, January 17.
There was no signature on the letter, but hell...I was going. I checked my cell phone.
"OH FUCK ME!! TODAY IS THE SEVENTEENTH!"
There was only one thing to do: Call Cera to have her bust me out of this place. I couldn't ever trust Viki (who was probably joyriding around in my car at moment...).
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Within two hours, I was free of the hospital's bland, confining walls. This was all a part of Cera's brilliant plan. She told the hospital that my stepmother was having a baby and requested that I go to Detroit to be there. Heh, that's a big lie. For one, I didn't have a stepmother anymore (more on that later), and secondly, my father was 'fixed' after my mom gave birth to me.
"You already have a unique look, Domi, but you will have to be more metal to even have Dethklok see you..."
I looked in the mirror and smiled a wicked smile. It was healing, but I would have to aggrivate it again to top off my look. I removed the bandages carefully to see the marks for the first time. Brutal. Just the way I wanted it to look. I spotted a tattoo parlor.
"Cera! Stop! I know what to do to top off my look!"
Cera parked the car and I got out, running straight into the tattoo parlor.
"Hello."
"I want this PERMANENTLY tattooed onto my face!" I demanded, pointing at my burn.
The lady at the counter grimaced but led me to the upstairs rooms. There, I saw the man responsible for my injury.
"Well, hello Dethface! Nice burn. I'm proud to be responsible for that one!"
I moved toward him angrily and gave him a round house kick to the jaw. He fell, but got back up. He then stumbled and rushed to go downstairs.
Thud. He had tripped and fell down the stairs. Another receptionist checked his neck and wrists for a pulse. She shook her head.
"Stupid dildos never read the sign..."
I then went into the assigned room to wait on the artist. I chuckled maniacally to myself.
Six hours later, my face burned more than before as I walked out of the tattoo parlor. Cera looked up from her magazine and latte. She screamed...