Jake's Horrific Little Lover

“Jake…what are you doing? Why is Axel’s copy of Hamlet in pieces?”

Jake snatched the spine from her and immediately began to try to shred it, scowling distastefully as his thin fingers slipped and slid on the smooth material.

“Have you ever met someone who has something, be it fame or riches, that they are entirely undeserving of?”



Pigeon chewed her lip briefly, as if contemplating, when in reality, Jake had never let her outside the house without him, so she had really no idea.

“Um-“

He didn’t give her ample time to reply, instead opening his razor-toothed mouth and going on another one of his rants (Which, since the rediscoverance of Axel, he had been going on more and more often lately…)

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to, really. You’re far too young. But I know people like that, Chelsea and Axel being some of them. Clesadia another. It makes me so angry to see those people gain when I live in this god-forsaken hovel, slowly dying, with no recognition of who I am. Humans do not understand the plague they are, nor the hidden consequences of allowing them to live. Instant gratification, that’s all they want. And some are rewarded for it. Take the makers of the atom bomb, for example. A nameless, individually blameless form of blasphemy that wreaks havoc and permanent damage on their own kind, and soils their country’s name. Take the bombing of Persephonia. Half the population killed, vaporized immediately. Another third of the entire population stricken with a terrible, completely terminal illness. And they are all hailed as heroes for creating such a thing. You must understand, Pigeon. I kill, yes. Not for fun, but for a purpose. And I do not kill my own kind, either. For instance, unless you had switched over to aid the humans, or some other unspeakable crime, I would never kill you, understood? In fact, I don’t think I could ever kill you unjustifiably.”

Jake ignored the look on Pigeon’s face when he mentioned his reasons for killing her, and continued on talking.

“So…I think I know what I shall do to this Shakespeare fellow. Come, Pigeon. To the basement.”

Grabbing her hand roughly, squeezing her tender young fingers in his vice-like grip, he began to shove his way past the glass and paper, unwittingly (Or wittingly, whichever you desire) dragging Pigeon through the mess in her knee-high socks in his haste. Used to the pushy way he got when excited or determined, she bore it silently, as with most pain, unless he wanted otherwise, nothing but a sharp gasp escaping her lips when a shard of what had once been one of Jake’s good gold rimmed wine glasses cut her the soft flesh of her foot.

Jake paused, fully aware of the noise behind him, and squeezed Pigeon’s hand empathetically, before letting go of it and thrusting his, glove and all, down his throat. A few moments after his slender fingers tickled his uvula and continued reaching, he was forced onto the glass-ridden floor, retching and gagging, the blood that always spurted out of his mouth when he became distressed or excited choosing this time to come gushing out in a sticky, rust-smelling torrent. More blood flowed form his sickly body, as he felt an acute, stabbing pain in the middle of his left palm, and his right kneecap. Damn the fit he threw earlier, it was now coming back to haunt him in the form of shattered wineglass pieces forcing their way into his delicate flesh. But it was to be worth it, because when his blue eyes widened and his pupils dilated, the object he had been meaning to get, bloody and slick with saliva, slid down his fluid-coated tongue and onto the floor with a dull, splashy clink.

Jake smiled to himself as he rose, picking the key up off the floor. Pigeon watched as he held it in his sharp teeth for a second, then pulling the glass out of his palm, where it had stuck, not even wincing as blood spurted out of his severed vessels, instead raising his injured hand to his lips to suck and lap at the red damu leaking out.

“Come, let us continue. I’ve work to do.”

He grabbed the key as he opened his mouth to speak, and thrust it violently in the keyhole. Upon the resonance of the lock clicking open in the silent house, a long, loan moan was heard, followed by the yelping, barking and yowling of Jake’s ‘pets’. This acknowledgement of his presence and ruling entire made a sick smile creep its way up Jake’s face, as he descended the stairs, Pigeon following closely behind.



“Get up, Stephan.”

Amid the squeaking and growling animals that were locked away safely in their cages, the skeletal, blister ridden and scarred man strapped with grimy, bloodstained steel to one of Jake’s three electric chairs, opened his eyes with a squelch, rotten yellow pus leaking from his very irises, producing a ghastly smell that made Pigeon wrinkle her nose in disgust. Jake, however, was used to it, and smacked at his captive’s cheeks roughly, smirking when wriggling, fat maggots fell out of the flesh they had been hungrily devouring, leaving infectious, perfectly circular holes in his face. When Stephan refused to stir, whether it was because he still had some form of guts (Probably not) at this point, or because moving caused him such extreme pain, Jake thrust his fingers into five of the holes, relishing in their squelch as he widened and tore them, and hauled upwards quickly. A piercing scream ripped from Stephan’s already mutilated throat, causing the Glasgow smile cut up both sides of his face to rip in two, blood and some disgustingly slimy clear liquid pouring down his face in a torrent. Jake released his grip after giving one more satisfying tug, feeling the wave of pain buck and jerk his living doll’s body, and leaned close to the Smile.

“Mmm…you still haven’t learned to listen, poppet.”

His impossibly long tongue flicked out to lap up the side of Stephan’s face, tasting and devouring the blood and fluid, almost desperately. Jake laughed when he felt the other, slightly older man shudder as Jake’s tongue wrapped around a maggot and tore it, leaving the still chewing head inside, before feeding the pulsating, oozing mass of bugflesh into Stephan’s screaming mouth.

Jake pulled away after that, watching as Stephan began to wildly struggle and strain at his steel bonds, blood pouring now from the burn wounds on his wrists, cut open when he started to writhe and thrash.

“Now, what have I told you, sweetheart? Hmm? Gosh, you’re an insolent little brat. Pidge, take him to his cage once I get him on this stretcher, will you? And make sure that Luthar is in there, too.”



Pigeon grinned wickedly as she nodded, trotting over to where Jake kept his pets and pulling out the biggest, most vicious-looking rat-thing anyone had ever created, much less seen before. Its teeth were rotted and overhanging, yet still retained the uncanny ability to bite through steel. It’s fur was crawling with bugs and worms, something Jake could fix, but chose not to, due to the fact that the worms would burrow into human flesh, which he could then treat, but it was very painful. That was Luthar.



Stephan shrieked animalistically as Jake quickly undid his bonds, and grabbed his naked body by means of the scruff of his burnt, peeling neck and hauled him onto a nearby stretcher, just as that skin came off in his hand. More blood pooled around the base of Stephan’s skull as he was strapped in and wheeled into a dank, wretched smelling cage. Luthar, snou twitching madly, at the same time emitting savage growling noises, so close to human speech that you could roughly understand what it was saying, was thrust in after him, chanting:



“Flesh, flesh, human bloodflesh. Hungry Luthar, Hungry I. Eat, slobber, destroy. Not kill. Eat tear rip. Not slay yet.”



As the first of what were to be many unearthly screams began to resound from the soundproof house, Jake led Pigeon over to one of the chairs and strapped her in, carefully tightening the leather strap below her chin, tying her tiny hands gently to the weathered, but well-kept wood. The wet sponge squished against her ragged hair as he made sure the helmet was perfectly in place, before he ripped the dial that ran the amount of charge neatly from the chair itself. I place of that, he dumped some blue liquid he had lying on his study table. Pigeon’s eyes widened considerably before she felt the shock run through her body, frying the tips of her hair and producing an acrid, bitter smoke that stung at even Jake’s eyes repeatedly. He watched interestedly as her body bucked and jolted against the carefully made, but unbreakable bonds. Then, she vanished entirely, leaving only a smoking pile of ash where she had once been. Jake nodded accordingly, before sitting down and strapping himself into the next chair, tightening and making sure all of his bonds were set correctly, being much rougher with himself than he was with his girl, for he enjoyed the sensation of something pressing tight on his skin. (Snorkedy Snork Snork)

Then the dial was ripped, the liquid was poured, and he suffered the same fate, his hair standing on end all over his body (The little he had) his pupils rising up and overtaking his ice blue irises. Then, a tremendous amount of blood gushed in a projectile format from his mouth, straight onto the floor, where it would dry and become crusty, but easy to remove.



ZAP.

He was gone too, just a pile of black ash where he was.



“Away with thou, evil spirits! Dost thou wish to send me to the eternal sleep?...Or are you messengers, sent from my father from beyond the grave? Oh, do not shake your chains at me, do not drag me down! I hath work to do, like any other mortal, thou seest!”