Like Son
McNair watched hungrily until it would be his turn. Soon, soon...
The flesh under his fingers, his axe, his whip... The blood that would spill on the floor... His breath quickened. Soon, soon, it would be his turn.
The sound of a bone breaking, skin ripping, the whimpering, ooh, the begging... then the screams, the pleas, the agony...
He felt the blood rush through his veins – he was alive – soon it would be his turn...
The smell of fear, of terror, of nameless horror... his victim before him, he could decide what would happen, he could give mercy... or death...
He felt the excitement, he was the master, he would bend their will, they would obey his orders –he would make them. This was power, and it was his.
# # #
McNair suddenly jerked up from the couch he had fallen asleep on.
His dream –ahh, it had been a good time when his Master was alive. Killing beasts for the Ministry simply wasn't the same –they didn't understand to the same degree that he had power over them, the power to give them life or death. –Of course, most also couldn´t properly scream or beg...
What had disturbed his pleasant dream?
Another hit with the walking stick told him what had woken him up. "Don´t laze around here! Do something useful, boy, or I'll find something for you to do!"
McNair quickly hurried out of the room.
No matter how old he got, no matter how many others had lain before him, no matter how much power he had held over them...
McNair smiled bitterly as he stepped outside the house. His father had always mastered him.