The Gift

Cocking his head to one side, he observed her sluggish and weary movements. Bruises piled up on her arms and thighs, a purple and blue blanket over her ivory skin. Groans tumbled from her dry lips, echoing and ricocheting along the walls. The noises vacating her mouth were unpleasant, like nails against a chalkboard, but each time she writhed in pain, a euphoric sensation surged through his blood.

Amusement vibrated within his bones as he gleefully watched her struggle against the chains.

Taking steady, calculated steps towards her, he delicately ran his fingernails along the rusted chains. A sob ripped through the back of her throat as he repeated this motion over and over.

"P-please..." Broken stuttering poured out from her bloodied lips. "W-why.. are you..." Her words were suddenly cut short, as she began to vomit blood.

His hazel eyes darted down to the tiled floor, a vibrant red covering up any nearby white slates. Upper lip curling, he turned away, deliberately yanking on the chains as he moved. In between spurts of blood dripping from her mouth, her high-pitched weeping flooded away any other noise in the room.

"Christ!" The man finally spoke, animosity and irritation thundering in his tone. "Not even for one second– one fucking second, you can't shut your whore mouth?"

A small whimper resonated from her side of the room, but all crying had ceased.

Her mouth was shut, but blood began to gurgle from the corner of her lips, dribbling down her pallid cheeks.

"Much better." He gravelly muttered, gazing at her through shrewd and critical eyes.

Crouching down onto the heals of his shoes while still grasping onto the chains, he yanked her towards him with all of his force.

Anguished screeching tore through the rooms silence as her body was flung towards him.

"What the fuck did I say, you fucking slut?" The man roared, taking a fistful of her matted hair. "If you don't keep your pretty little mouth shut, I'll slit your throat and leave you to bleed." Digging into his coat pocket, he pulled out a dirty dagger, waving it before her widened eyes. "Don't fucking doubt me, bitch."

Continuing to keep a grip on her greasy hair, he tugged her even closer, until her eyes were directly aligned with his. Tears glistened over her amber irises, and a mixture of sweat and blood trickled down her forehead. As he absorbed all of her physical traits, a faint smile began to cross over his lips.

"I would be doing the world a justice, killing someone as ugly as you."

Silence bled through the walls as they stared at each other.

He continued, "'Cause, you know, life and death just repeat, over and over and over. You're ugly in this life and a hot piece of ass in the next. You should be thanking me for this opportunity I'm giving you."

The man paused, taking in all of her details again. Blood had stopped oozing from her lips, but the burgundy color had stained most of her face and clothes. Her eyes were dry now, irises full of anticipation.

"Why?" The one word eased smoothly from her lips, no hesitation underneath her inquiring tone. Anger flowed throughout his being at the sound of her voice, but answered her anyways.

Still grasping onto the dagger, he slid it straight across her neck. "Death is a gift to those plagued by life."