"You're not eating anything for lunch again, Rachel?"
The blonde felt her cheeks heat up—she hated confrontation. She scrounged for an excuse, but she knew Edward would not believe her. Besides—what excuse did a skinny, boney-girl like her have to not eat? …well, an excuse that was not "There's no food in the fridge, since my parents do not have the money to buy food—or a reason to."
She and Edward were sitting on the floor against the wall in one of the less busy wings of their school, as they did everyday at lunch. She often brought an apple or something with her, but this week the house was completely devoid of food. There was no need for it—her father would eat at the bar, and her mother, she had ways of scrounging for food from the men who used her like a sex tool.
Rachel didn't need to eat. Monsters don't need to eat.
"Rachel, you're so skinny! I sure hope you're not anorexic or something…" Her redheaded friend exclaimed. "N-not that I'm saying you look ugly, just that I'm worried."
Rachel aggressively shook her head, still feeling a little bit insulted.
"No i-it's just…" quick—think of something! "My parents haven't had the chance to go grocery shopping, a-and our panty was just, um, some bug got in there and we had to throw everything out! Some weird brand of natural rice or something." Rachel stammered.
Why are you defending them?
—because they're my parents.
But they don't love you.
No, they… They will, I'll make them.
Make them love you?
…yes.
Pigs will fly before that happens. You should just kill yourself, it's not going to happen. You're…
—A monster.
"Oh, that makes sense," Eddie said, his smile returning to his face. Rachel shook her head to shake the voices away. "Here—for today, you can eat my sandwich!" Rachel began to salivate, having not eaten much but stale crackers for the past couple days.
"N-no, Eddie… It's yours, so you should eat it." She declined weakly. Edward frowned, and slumped over in thought, before abruptly straightening up again.
"Hey, we can split it in half!" Before Rachel could protest, he had ripped his sandwich in half. Selflessly, he handed the larger piece to Rachel, smiling. She merely stared at it, before reluctantly taking the half of the sandwich from him.
"Thanks, Eddie…" She mumbled, before ravenously stuffing the sandwich in her mouth.
Edward was visibly appalled, and a bit surprised at how she quickly she stuffed it down.
The blonde smiled after stuffing the last bite into her mouth, and she felt her stomach react to the new food in her body. She felt stuffed to the brim—despite the half of the sandwich being just larger than a deck of cards, and pathetically thin, to boot.
Like her, Edward's family did not have much in terms of money, and Rachel's filled gut shrunk with guilt for taking the one of the only things he likely got to eat each day
He often complained about only receiving his older brothers' hand-me-downs, never really receiving anything brand-new. She had a hard time grasping how that was so bad. At least Edward had everything he needed. Rachel, however, barely had anything.
"Wow, Rachel… you must have been famished!" Edward mused. The malnourished girl felt her cheeks begin to heat up. Edward's half of the sandwich had only a few bites in it.
"Oh, sorry…" She meekly apologized. Not knowing what to say, Rachel fell back to her default. Apologizing. Suddenly, Edward took one of her hands in his, and once again gave her a big grin.
"Don't be sorry, Rachel! I would share anything with you—without hesitation, should you want or need it." He said—so casually, as if what he said didn't make him feel nervous or embarrassed.
Perhaps that was because it didn't.
Edward was very forward, after all. He did not hesitate in lavishing Rachel with unwanted compliments."Oh, Rachel, your hair is so beautiful..", "Wow, your eyes—it's like looking into the ocean!", and "Your voice, it's so lovely… Like the singing of the angels…" Each compliment her friend would lavish upon her made her chest feel heavy—after all, an abomination did not deserve that kind of attention.
Hearing such lies made her heart hurt, and her brain swell. It was so alien to her. Although Rachel wanted nothing more than to be desired, Edward's form of attention… It made her uneasy. What was one supposed to say? Often Rachel said nothing. Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly guilty for not interacting with Edward, she would mutter an apology.
So submissive… That was her method of survival.
Yet it didn't save her from any beatings.
The bell rung, signalling the end of lunchtime. Rachel was surprised at how fast it went, and slowly rose to her feet along with Edward.
"What class do you have?" He asked, shoving the last bite of his half of his sandwich into his mouth.
"Textiles." Rachel replied with a small smile. The one class she enjoyed.
"Oh, cool!" Edward exclaimed, starting to walk down the hall—most likely to Rachel's locker. He liked to escort her to all of her classes. "You're so good at sewing, Rachel… I would kill to have a scarf sewed by you…"
"You don't sew a scarf, Edward. They're typically knit… although, I suppose some scarfs are simply just hemmed fabric." She mused. Her friend chuckled a little, and she shot him a confused look.
"Oh, Rachel… How your face lights up when you talk about sewing! It's beautiful." He exclaimed, his steps becoming more like tiny bounces.
Once again, Rachel was rendered silent. She was desperate to get rid of him. She hated how awkward he could make her feel.
"You should get to your class, Edward. I can make it to the sewing portable just fine." She said, slowing her pace from his. He turned and looked at her with sad-looking eyes.
"Oh, okay…" he whined, before perking up. "I guess I'll see ya after school!"
Rachel nodded her head, and headed towards the school's exit. The sewing portable was outside—there was not enough room to have the class inside the school, and sewing class was not very popular, so they did not really need such a big room.
She was the youngest out of the class of fifteen. Advanced Textiles 11/12… Although there were one or two younger kids in that class as well as her, though they were in ninth and tenth grade.
She finally reached the small, humid portable.
And Rachel was home.
Zack had just finished changing into his new uniform. He looked in the mirror of the staffroom's bathroom.
He looked like a fucking tool.
He wore a white dress shirt (that took quite a while, since he kept fucking up and buttoning the buttons in the wrong places), of which the collar sticked up and grazed his cheek. Gray had also given hime a tie. Although Zack saw people wearing ties before, and knew they went around the neck, he didn't have a fucking clue as to how they were tied… So he simply tied it in a knot around his neck, and now it looked like Zack was wearing two ties.
God-fucking damnit. Zack felt like an idiot. Though it wasn't his fault that he never had a father figure to teach him this kinda thing.
At least the pants he wore were normal. The two dinkiest things about his uniform were his apron and hat.
That fucking hat.
It was the dumbest fuckin' hat he has ever seen. It was one of those hats that pussies wore—a messenger hat. As a proud, self-respected adult man—and serial killer—Zack wasn't used to looking so… dinky.
The apron was degrading, too. He didn't like to look like a fucking servant.
a tool
Zack sighed. Maybe the uniform would look better on someone else. A human—rather than a monster like him, wrapped in bandages to hide his…
"Isaac, does it fit?" Gray asked, knocking on the door of the restroom. Zack jolted a little bit—shit, he got lost in thought.
"It fits jus' fine, I… I don't know how to… tie the fuckin' tie." Zack admitted.
"Ah, I can help with that," Gray offered, failing to hide the excitement in his words. "May I come in?"
Shit, the ol' man's planning on acting like a fuckin' dad again. But… Zack wasn't in any place to refuse his help. He looked like a fucktard.
"F-fine." He barked.
Gray opened the door to the restroom, and had to restrain a—
—laugh.
Zack had never heard the priest laugh before.
"W-what the fuck're ya laughin' at?" Zack barked. Gray barely constricted his smile.
"Nothing. Except… The tie—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Zack snapped defensively. "…don't just stand there an' mock me." Gray smiled, and approached him somewhat slowly—almost cautiously, as if he was afraid of… being struck down.
"I can help you put it on… Will you let me touch you?" Gray asked, and Zack shivered a bit.
Fuck, bad memories. "Why d'ya gotta make it sound so fuckin' creepy? It's fine, knock yerself the fuck out."
Gray untied the knot on the tie around Zack's neck, and couldn't help but look at his face. The killer was sweating, not being particularly used to people touching him. Gingerly, the priest wrapped the tie around the collar of Zack's dress shirt. And he began a complicated series of actions that led to the tie being tied.
"There, it's done." Gray said, folding the collar of Zack's dress shirt.
It looked…. right.
"Um, thanks…" Zack mumbled, fidgeting with the tie around his neck. He felt a little claustrophobic, and began to pull on it. To Zack's surprise, it slid down easily. Just what kind of fuckin' knot is this.?
While he was at it, Zack unbuttoned the first few buttons of the dress shirt, revealing his collarbone. He preferred it that way. The priest sighed quietly.
"Shall we go downstairs, then? It's about time for you to start your first shift with Daniel…" The priest said, beginning to walk out of the bathroom. Zack merely followed him.
"Can't fuckin' wait."
The Cafe was empty, save for one average-height man with green hair and glasses, who was leaning on a counter. They locked eyes, and the man froze for a moment before awkwardly forcing a grin.
Fucker's scared of me. Zack thought, his muscles tensing with anger. Nothin' I ain't used to anyhow…
Monster.
"H-Hi, I'm Danny!" The man chirped, reluctantly extending a hand for Zack to shake. The killer merely stared at it. He didn't want to touch that man's hand after he had been judging him. Danny's smile faded a touch. "E-erm, you must be Isaac—"
"It's Zack," He corrected. "I fuckin' hate when people call me Isaac, so don't."
And Zack hated his fuckin' smile, too. Fucker looked way too happy.
Danny blinked, visibly confused as to whether or not he did something to piss off the young man. "R-right. Sorry." He mumbled. "So—let's get ya started with training!" Christ, even his fuckin' voice pissed him off.
"So this," Danny started, leading Zack behind the table, "Is where the magic happens!" Zack scoffed.
There was a sink, and a few complicated looking taps. There were metal sliding cupboards behind them, which Danny opened for him. "These are the coolers that we put dairy and the like in to make our drinks."
Wait.
"The fuckin' cupboards are fuckin' fridges?" The killer belted out in confusion, causing a panicked expression on Daniel's face.
"Isaac—er, Zack, you mustn't swear like that when you're working!" He cried, his left eye widening while his right stayed the same. "You'll frighten the customers." Zack looked confused. He didn't remember seeing any customers.
"The fuck you talkin' bout? There ain't any customers here." Zack asked with annoyance.
"Oh, of course, it's just, tomorrow, when we open, you should really refrain from cursing in front of the customers…" Daniel said, his mouth curved in a little smile—though he looked frightened.
Yeah fuckin' right. Zack thought.
They spent nearly an hour going over Zack's responsibilities. He was supposed to make people coffee—not just coffee, though. Special coffee. Coffee with ice in it, coffee that had the consistency of a slushie, and coffee with five-million fuckin' spices poured in it. It was so much, Zack felt as if his brain was going to explode.
"I'm not really cut out for that coffee-makin' shit, I'm better at slashin' folks." Zack had said, causing Daniel to twitch.
"Ah—don't worry, you'll get used to it soon enough." The doctor reassured him, with that fuckin' obnoxious smile. "Come on, lets try to make a simple cappuccino"
Zack had learnt that was easier said than done.
He had ended up spilling hot liquid everywhere the first attempt, burning his hands and chucking the rest of the mug at Daniel, burning him too. "Fuck! S-sorry. The second attempt was better—no burns were made, but the cappuccino tasted like shit. It toke about seven more attempts to make a cappuccino that tasted okay.
Though he was loathe to admit it, Zack was pretty proud.
Another responsibility was serving people food. The chefs in the back made it—either Gray or a young brat named "Eddie", but Zack had to bring it to people, like a fuckin' slave. He didn't like that. The thing that bothered him the most, though, was doing it with a dumb-ass smile. The Doctor thought it would be a good idea to go through a practise run for Zack, so he had sat down and ordered the killer to go take his order.
"What do you want?" The waiter-in-training asked the disappointed head-waiter.
"Uh, you come off as rude when you say it like that—try saying, 'Now what can I get for you today?', okay?" Daniel critiqued. Zack sighed, and resisted the urge to slit his trainer's throat.
"What can I get for ya today?" Zack asked annoyingly.
The doctor averted his eyes from Zack, and began to fidget. "Hey, that was better… but, try sounding a bit happier…"
"Oh for fuck's sake!" Zack cursed, slamming his fists on the table Daniel sat at. "What can I fuckin' get fer ya, ya piece of fuckin' shit?" He asked with a painful grin on his face.
"Uh, don't swear when—"
"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Zack exclaimed. He was about to go berserk, but then… near the front, the Reverend was staring him down with a dangerous glare in his eyes. The killer knew he had to step up and smile, no matter how much it made him want to slit Daniel's and his own throat… Lest he feel the wrath of that demented priest.
"What can I get for you.?" Zack asked calmly, his mouth curled into the smallest, most uncomfortable smile. Daniel looked disappointed still, but he nodded his head and accepted that that was the best Zack was going to give him.
"Good, Zack! Now, I will 'place an order'… I would like a…. Scrambled benny with a black coffee, please! …now this is the part where you grab your notepad and write down the order." Daniel instructed.
Uh-oh.
"Uh, there's jus' one problem with that…" Zack mumbled, shifting his weight on each foot nervously. "I can't uh… I can't write…. or read…" Daniel furrowed his brows in disbelief.
"Uh, are you being serious?" He asked.
"Yeah I'm bein' fuckin' serious! Are ya fuckin' judgin' me right now? 'Cause I'll fuckin' slash ya to bits, ya pedophile-fuck!" The killer balled up his fists, intimidatingly towering over his shorter superior.
"A pedophile?! I'm not—" Zack inched closer to him. "A-Ah, no, no! It's just I, uh, thought everyone learned to read in school..?" Daniel stammered, leaning back in his seat.
"Didn't go to school, that's why. Spent my time on the fuckin' streets as a brat." Zack explained, leaning back from Danny and loosening up a bit, the memories coming back to him.
"Oh, okay… um sorry..? I uh—"
"Why're ya apologizin'? Jus' shut up and tell me what else I should do?" Zack demanded.
"R-right! Hm… well, I guess you can just use your memory and simply relay the message to someone else who can write it down… In the meantime, someone can teach you how to write, I suppose…" Danny thought, a little perplexed. "Well, anyways, now you would go to the kitchen and tell them what the customer just ordered… in the meantime, doing other things like taking more orders, and cleaning tables until you can take out the orders to the customers!"
"This sounds like a lot of fuckin' work." Zack complained.
"OH, don't worry—you'll get used to it, I believe I you!" Danny cheered, smiling.
Lastly, he was told that had to clean a bunch of shit… Which included getting his hands wet—meaning that he couldn't wear any bandages over his hands. Zack flipped out when Danny told him to take them off, extremely defensive of his hands.
The annoyances began to build up, and Zack's vision begun to turn red. The responsibilities building up, the patience required to learn, and his trainer's smile… His fucking smile.
"Oh, that's it! Yer askin' me too much, man! Yer makin' me angry—and yer makin' me fiendin' to kill!" Zack yelled, throwing a cup filled with a failed Frappuccino onto the ground, and grabbing his knife from where he had hidden it in his shoe. Danny gulped. "I promised the ol' man I wouldn't kill anybody, but I don't fuckin' care anymore! The look of terror on your face—it's electrifyin'!"
The red began to take control, and Zack began to lust for blood, his heart beating rapidly, amplifying his lusts to cut deep holes through Danny.
Slowly, he walked towards Daniel, whose features were deliciously distorted with fear.
"Z-Zack! What're—is this a joke?!" The trembling doctor asked.
"No, this is a real fuckin' nightmare!" Zack squealed, holding his knife against Daniel's throat. The doctor squirmed like a pathetic worm under the knife, and begged for mercy.
The red had swallowed him, and Zack began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
And laugh.
The sight of Daniel's obnoxious smile turning quickly to a disgusted curl of despair caused Zack's brain to swell with ecstasy. He needed more of that addictive happiness.
"Oh, yes! More, give me MORE! Enough of that fucking smile—give me FEAR!" Zack shrieked, his voice shrill and cracking from delirium. "Oh does it please me to see that grin fade into despair!"
He had snapped. That fucking grin really got to him—and the numerous expectations that the job entailed. The red—his desire—had engulfed him… an ocean of bloodlust.
"I'm gonna slice ya up so good it'll paint this whole fuckin' cafe red!"
Zack raised his knife—which to his dismay, was knocked out of his hand by a vase. It hit hard, and Zack cursed out in pain. The vase cracked against a counter and shards of ceramic were sent flying.
The shards began to cut into the red, leaving holes.
"What have I told you, Isaac? No attacking your coworkers!" Gray scolded the killer, his voice shattering both Zack and Daniel's earbuds.
Zack winced when he noticed the priest stomp towards him. He hastily grasped for his knife on the ground, cutting his hands on the broken ceramic. A heavy boot stomped on his hand, and Zack cried in pain as he heard things in his hand snap.
He had another veil cast over him—the veil of pain.
"Fuck! What the fuck, ol' man?!" Zack howled at Gray.
"I told you—If you attack anyone, I will kill you," The priest reminded him, "I'll let this serve as a mere warning if you apologize to Daniel." Zack tried to pull his hand from under the heavy boot, but failed. He cursed once more.
"He's scolding that killer as if he's a fucking child." Daniel disbelievingly mused.
"Fat fucking chance! That piece of shit deserves to be run through!" Zack protested stubbornly. He yelped as the Reverend put even more pressure on his hand. "Fuck-fuck-fuck! T-that fuckin' hurts!"
"If you apologize and cease your selfish behaviour, then I'll stop." Gray offered.
Zack wasn't one for pain, so he caved quickly… Even if it was humiliating.
"Sorry. Kinda fuckin' flipped 'cuz of yer stupid smile and stupid rules." The killer barked, hissing from pain.
"You could do better, Isaac." The Reverend said, putting more weight onto Zack's hand.
"Mmph! I'm fuckin' sorry for tryna kill ya!" Zack screamed, curling up on the floor.
Gray looked to Daniel. "Does this apology please you?" He asked, not yet taking his heavy boot of of Zack's bandaged hand.
Daniel blinked, not believing what he was seeing. "Uh, y-yeah," He stammered.
Gray lifted his foot, and Zack brought it to his chest, and began to swear profusely. His hand throbbed, and it would be a miracle if there weren't any broken bones. "Oh Jesus fuckin' Christ! The fuck? That hurt so fuckin' much!" The killer whined, before shakily standing to his feet and glaring at Gray. "You made me look like a pathetic fuckin' kid! I swear I'll fuckin' kill ya, ol' man!"
He then looked to Daniel and sneered. "I only fuckin' apologized to ya 'cuz I wanted to save my hand—it's my killin' hand, after all. Don't think for one fuckin' second that it was 'cuz I felt bad, or that I didn't want to kill ya."
Zack inched a bit closer to Daniel, but didn't touch him. "One day—I'll kill ya too. After all—I ain't no fuckin' liar."
Daniel nodded his head and laughed. "Hah, you won't do anything to me," The doctor spat. "Fucking monster."
Zack tensed up once more, looking as if he might lunge, but before he could, Gray restrained him with a hand on his shoulder. The killer flinched, and hastily brushed off the Reverend's hand.
"You're excused for the day, Daniel." The Reverend said. "I'll handle Zack's training from here-on."
Daniel laughed with relief, and scrambled towards the staffroom. "Don't have to ask me twice." He cackled, turning his head to snarl at Zack.
"I'm still fiendin' to kill, so I'm gonna dip and cut some fuckers up." Zack exclaimed, stomping towards the exit.
"Ah! Isaac, wait!" Gray cried. "Please, change out of your uniform, you might not be able to get the blood out when you're done, and I don't have anything else that's your size!"
The killer laughed, and turned to look at Gray. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, ol' man. It won't be the first time I'll get blood on my shit. Besides—that piece of shit is upstairs, and I might hafta stab him while I'm up there."
Zack slipped out the door, a devilish smile on his face.
His veil of red had been pulled back over his eyes.
"Gray? Is he your kid or something?" Daniel asked, having just changed out of his uniform.
The Reverend coughed, restraining a smile. "N-no, I've merely lent a helping hand to him from time to time—it's nothing."
So he wants to be recognized as a father, huh?
"Well uh, thanks for stopping him…" The doctor's heart finally began to slow down. "Was he—was he actually going to kill me?"
"Most likely." Gray answered nonchalantly—as if there was nothing odd about that.
"So, is he going to try again?" Danny scowled. "I hate to say this, but I just can't work here anymore if he's going to be a threat to my life—I still haven't found the perfect peepers yet!"
"Oh, Daniel Dickens… How amusing—you threatening to leave this place." The Reverend chuckled. "Don't you realize… That this is a privilege? Not many cafes…
—give their workers the right to kill without consequence."