A/N: Holy shit, it's been forever. I apologize, guys. And I really appreciate everyone who actually has stuck around to read more of my crappy writing.
Warning: Changing the rating to M to be safe. Don't like, don't read.
Paul swallowed; a mixture of saliva and sorrow. He knelt down to Charlie's level, cupping her face in the palms of his hands. Peter stood to the side as always, twirling the baseball bat and observing.
"Now do you want to continue or not?" Paul asked Charlie softly, like a lover, not an attacker.
Her eyes were daggers as she spit onto his face. "Fuck you."
He slapped her, it didn't sting this time. "I don't want to fuck up your beautiful face anymore, but if you keep being rude, you're not going to be recognizable." He offered her a hand, "Now why don't you get up? We've still got some time left. And we've only just begun."
She reluctantly grabbed his hand as he pulled her up, "That-a girl. Now Tubby, choose a game."
Peter leaned down and put his chin on the end of the bat, "How 'bout Simon Says?"
"Wonderful idea, Peter," Paul gave his protégé a hearty slap on the back. "But we don't just play it the regular way, do we, Tom?"
"Nope."
"That's right. Charlotte, in our version of Simon Says, if you don't do what Simon says, we're going to have to hurt you. And we wouldn't want to do that, would we, Peter?"
With a puzzled look on his face, Peter spoke, "But we're here to kill her, Paul. Isn't it the point to hurt her?"
"Y'know, why don't I just do the rest of the talking and you just go eat or something? That is what you do best."
Peter grunted and headed back into kitchen.
"Alright, let's begin. That okay with you?" Paul questioned Charlie.
"Why can't you just kill me? Wouldn't that just be easier for all of us?" Charlie wiped blood and sweat from her brow. She was still naked, everything off except for her bra. She felt horrible, like a whore.
"It would be easier, but it wouldn't be as fun." He smiled at her. "Now let's play….Simon says…..touch yourself."
Her head bolted up, making her neck snap painfully, "What?"
He nodded his head at her, "You heard me, Simon says to touch yourself, masturbate."
"No." Charlie said, suddenly covering up her body protectively.
"Ooh, someone's feisty." Paul chuckled. "You didn't do what Simon said, you know what that means." He pulled out a knife from his back pocket, the same one she had put in her back pocket not an hour before. She hadn't even noticed it was gone.
The knife shined brilliantly, she could see her own cowering reflection in it.
Paul brought it down slowly until she squealed, "No! Don't! Okay, I'll do it."
Startled, Paul caught himself, he smiled, gesturing for her to begin.
Tears glittering in her eyes, she touched herself, uncomfortable. She cried and moaned until she finished. "Happy?" She looked up at him.
Surprisingly, Paul didn't have his hand down his own pants. He actually looked sort of terrified. But he snapped out of it quickly, "Simon says...show me your breasts." He held the knife firmly in his hand.
Whimpering, she removed her bra. The tears let loose as her bra and the knife simultaneously feel to the ground.
Paul approached her and cupped her face once more, "Simon says kiss me."
Their lips met softly, but ferociously. His tongue slipped inside of her mouth and she surprisingly let out a moan of satisfaction, disgusted with herself for kissing him.
The sound of glass shattering made them pull apart. The remains of an orange and one of her good plates splattered on the ground. Peter stood at the doorway, disgusted. "What the fuck is going on?"