warning for torture
for sonnet 130 (dark lady) and for unicorn day (notorious)
376 words, by google docs
Bellatrix's mother always told her not to play with her food. Fortunately, her mother is dead. She would be disgusted by her daughter—Bellatrix had become almost notorious for playing with her prey.
Dipping her knife slightly deeper, she repeated her question.
"Where are the Longbottoms?" she hissed. She was getting slightly tired of repeating her question over and over again—wouldn't it be easier to just finish the job?—but she got a job from her master and she was going to carry it out. Maybe her master was dead. He would live on in her servitude.
The body below Bellatrix shuddered. Could it even be called a body anymore? It was a lump of a man, flesh just barely held together by sticky blood.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes and pulled out her life. Really, didn't any of them understand that it would all be easier if they just gave in? Of course, they would die anyway, but at least their death would hurt less. Slightly less.
Bellatrix started at the feet, slowly digging her knife in and drawing a line, right from his big toe to his waist. Blood glinted on her silver knife. It stained his body, it stained her hands.
That was okay. She could wash it off. Blood flowed off well in water.
"Where are the Longbottoms?" she asked once again. She was getting tired of having to keep on having to ask, over and over again.
The lump of a human below her shuddered. Bellatrix could tell that he was close to death. She didn't have much time left, unfortunately. Brandishing her knife for probably what was the last time, she carved closer to his chest, almost digging to his sternum.
"Tell me where, scum," she hissed, not hesitating as she felt his heartbeat slowing down below her fingers.
"Mould—Mould-on-the-Wold," the prey stuttered, so close to death. Bellatrix squinted. Did this man really think that she would heal him because he finally told her? Did he think she would spare him?
Bellatrix never spared anyone.
Giving her knife a sharp tilt downward, she made her mark, right on his heart. Straightening up, she watched the blood pour out, spreading out around him, touching her boots.
It wasn't enough.
She still wanted more blood.