1. Dinner
Your eyes snap open to a darkened room; the same room that you have
stared at for god knows how long. Your head feels heavy; a feeling that you have
become familiar with as of late. Craning your neck a little to the left, you can see
that same small line of light peeking through the trap door on the ceiling,
illuminating the chain ladder that leads to the outside world. An angry hiss
escapes your lips as the rope burns against your already raw wrists, protesting in
the movement.
Letting your head sag back a little, you stare at the ceiling and sigh before
a fit of coughs plague you, and you to lean forward again. Sitting in your own
filth was never good for the lungs and no doubt broken rib is not helping anything
either. You do not know where you are…probably never will if it were up to your
captors. You distinctly remember heading to bed one night before waking up
here.
Tasting iron, you spit on the floor.
-----
Once again, your hand clasps a rung on the metal chair. It is old. The
edges that connect the two legs are weak, not enough for you to break in your
current state, but weak all the same. You can feel the rust (or was it blood?) that
has collected and run down the sides of the seat, its rough indentations giving
your mind something to do. You imagine landscapes beneath your fingertips,
small islands that you can escape to; to be free of this god-forsaken hell that you
find yourself trapped. A grin finds its way to your face, the dried blood cracking

2. almost painfully against your skin with the nearly foreign expression. To be on a
dessert island in the middle of the ocean would be heaven compared to this.
A high-pitched creak from behind you shatters the silence and light floods
the darkened room causing your eyes to sting painfully. Clenching your eyes
closed, you can hear a metal cart being dragged into the room along with a metal
bowl, if the muffled sound of metal banging upon metal is anything to go by. The
person dragging the cart is female; the click of her high heels and rosy perfume
giving it away. You also can hear the sound of another stepping into the room,
male by the sound of his heavy footfalls. The other stays behind you, most likely
leaning against the wall or standing studiously in formation--the prick.
Opening your eyes a little, you can see that the cart had been dragged in
front of you and the woman is hastily stirring something around in the bowl.
“Is it dinner time, then?” You ask roughly, voice scratchy with disuse.
You do not expect to get an answer. They never do. “I do hope you brought me
the correct kind of steak this time. The gruel you severed here before was--
GAH!” The bitch cuts you off with a sharp smack across the face while the
asshole from behind grabs a fistful of hair and tilts your head back.
Spoonful after spoonful is forcibly tossed into your mouth. They served
the same shit to you before. It tastes like sludge with paper mixed in. Most likely
made up of only things that will keep you alive and healthy for however much
longer they plan to keep you here for; well…alive at least; you’re in no way
healthy. Next, they dump a cup of water down your throat. You cough and

3. sputter as some of the liquid finds its way down your windpipe. The man punches
you across the face for that one. Oh goody…more blood.
The bowl is roughly set onto the cart again and the two begin to walk
away. “What do you want from me!?” You growl out. It has been a while since
your last stint of defiance, might as well renew your account. “Answer me you
bitch!” You shout; your head whipping to get at least some glance at your
captors. You can only see a silhouette in the corner of your eye. The woman you
can tell is petite, wearing what looks to be a light coat of some kind. Her hair tied
up into a ponytail that still cascades down her back; the cliché female assistant.
The man is also a cliché, big and burley and most likely stupid. He is
jacked and nearly a foot taller than his companion. His arms are crossed and no
doubt smirking through the silhouette around him.
“Why the fuck am I here?” You ask again, “Why have you kidnapped
me? I don’t have anything! What could you possibly want with me?!” You
scream at them, your frustrations finally coming out. You have been trapped for
weeks, months possibly, and you have received nothing more than beatings and
slop. You sit in your own filth everyday in dark room. The least-
-A giggle breaks your musings like a clap of thunder in a clear glade. The
woman is laughing softly, a sound you can relate to bells blowing in the wind.
“Silly man,” she titters softly, “Food shouldn’t ask questions.”
A gasp escapes your lips without meaning. Your heart begins to beat
furiously in your chest. A rushing noise drowns out sound, your breath quickens.
“W-what…did you…did you say?” You choke out. A giggle is your answer as

4. the two exit the room and the door closes slowly. “What do you mean?!” You
shout franticly. “What do you mean!? You bitch! Get back here!” She needs to
come back! To open the door, you need light! Light is safe, light is warm! It
isn’t this dark room you’ve been trapped in for this long time. You do not care
about the answer; you just want to keep that light! “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
You struggle wildly in the seat, hoping the chair legs break from the strain; the
rope slips from the blood around your arms and hands. In your frantic fighting,
you have fallen over and are crawling to the gently closing door; your pleas
falling on deaf ears. A soft click that is as loud as a horn is your only reply. Your
sobs are your only companion.
----
You do not care anymore. You sit sullenly in your chair; in your home.
Time has no more meaning to you. Has it been days since you asked them that
question? Months, since you found out that you will be food for some sick fuck
and his friends. You don’t know…
You don’t care…
Every day, promptly at who gives a shit o’clock the bitch comes in and
feeds you. You idly notice that the servings have increased. They are feeding
you longer and just a little more than that previous day; no doubt fattening you up.
Just like the witch in Hansel and Gretel she pats your head softly ignoring the
blood that has become matted into your hair. “Good boy” she coos softly, as if
praising a dog; because that is what you are to her; just a filthy dog.

5. The prick comes in alone every other day now. The two of you spend a
good two hours together just having a grand time. Well, if by grand, you mean
you sitting there submissively while the big man beats the ever living daylights
out of you, then yes, depending on your perspective, that could be considered a
good time. After today’s session, you know what they’re doing. They are
tenderizing the meat….
-----
Your eyes flutter open softly, taking in the new surroundings. Well, it is
not very new to you. It is the same damn room you have been staring at for, god
knows how long now. The sight in your left eye is black, the vision being
blocked by your swollen eye. You run your tongue across your teeth, noticing
that another has been lost. That makes three now. You lazily scan your eyes
across the floor looking for them as a mild form of entertainment. You become
aware that the right side of your face burns from yesterdays (?) tenderization
session. Your ears are ringing, your body aches, you are tired, you are heavy and
you just. Don’t. Care.
“Ah, good, you’re awake!” A jovial voice announces.
Your body stiffens in fear and your head snaps ahead of you. A well-
dressed man sits on a chair opposite of you. You didn’t notice him before but you
sure as hell do now. He is smiling casually at you from his position. His well-
mannered suit is white while is under jacket and tie are a baby blue. His black
hair is nearly hidden behind a fedora hat of the same color as his suit. Blue eyes
that seem to twinkle behind gold wire-framed glasses meet yours. He looks

6. entirely out of place with his surroundings. “I was beginning to wonder when you
might awaken.” His voice is distinctly foreign but you cannot guess from where.
“W-who…” you try to ask. You can barely speak your voice is so
underused.
“My, my, my...how very rude of me.” He smiles and shakes his head.
“My name,” he jesters towards himself with a gloved hand, “is Azeal Patterson.”
Your face contorts into a confused expression that he seems to find
amusing, if the laugh that erupts from his lips is anything to go by. “Yes, yes,
I’m sure you’re very confused about why I’m here.” He smiles again, this time
showing well taken care of teeth that seem just a little too sharp. “You see, my
dear sir, I am the one that brought you here.”
Your head clears, if only a little bit, and your eyes sharpen as you glare up
at this man. “Oh, no need to get all huffy!” He continues to smile, as he begins to
stand up and pace around you. “You see…I run a very select group of individuals
who have a very delicate palate. My friends and I love exotic foods. We’ve tried
everything from kangaroo to Whale, Blue-fin Tuna and even a Giant Panda and
Javan rhino!” His voice tails of wistfully as if recalling a happy memory.
“Throughout all of our conquests and delicacies, my friends and I have now
gotten rather…bored.” He was grinning back at you now, peering over his gold
spectacles. “So…we decided to hunt something of a rather…different taste.” The
wicked grin on his face makes you shiver just a bit. His smile widens and he
continues to pace behind you again.

7. “So every three years, my friends and I meet for a very special dinner.
I’m proud to inform you that you are the main guest of honor!” He laughs and
pats your shoulder. You have to suppress the urge to flinch at his touch. Don’t
give him any satisfaction.
A growl escapes your lips, one that he seems to find even more amusing
than your earlier glare. “Oh my, a feisty one, aren’t you? Wonderful, I so love it
when they get all riled up like this.” He turns your chair around with a sharp
twist, one that makes your wrists burn more against their confines. “Dinner is in
two days dear boy!” He pats your cheek with a light tap and walks out the door,
closing it with a soft click.
Your breathing is harsh now as you glare at the door, wishing it would
explode with the rage you feel inside you. You will not let them. You will NOT
let them have the satisfaction of eating you because they can! Slowly, your hands
reach down and firmly grasp the metal rung; the same one that you have
memorized so carefully in your stay here. Looser now than it was before, you
begin to jiggle it with a new found resolve.
-----
Meathead comes in the next day, right on time. “Hello friend.” You
growl, smiling tightly at him. He obviously does not like this new attitude, if his
first strike says anything. You chuckle, spitting another tooth onto the floor,
thinking that that would make four you have lost here. You silently promise them
that it would be the last of their comrades to fall in this hell. “Oh come on!” You
chortle, tilting your head to meet his face. He is an ugly motherfucker! Face

8. scared in odd directions, dirty blond hair hanging on the side of his face and stone
grey eyes glaring at you under defined eyebrows. “Can’t you hit harder than that
gorilla man?” You sneer. He buries his fist into your gut, expelling the air from
your lungs.
The beating that follows is one of the worst you have received yet. You
can feel blood run in rivulets down the side of your face, thankfully over the eye
that is already swollen shut. You had to break your promise to your teeth as two
more of their bothers have been lost to the floor. Yet you continue to laugh! It’s a
cackling kind of laugh; one you’d hear from the Joker from Batman rather out of
your own mouth.
The laugh sets the big guy off. With on loud grunt he strikes you across
the face harder now than ever before (or maybe you’ve just lost feeling on your
face?) Your head snaps to the left and the force of the punch sends you and the
chair falling over. Looking through your good eye, you watch as the big man
turns around to massage his most likely broken hand. Quietly as possible, you
shimmy your now blood soaked hands through the rope and grab the broken rung.
You try standing up as softly as possible, but your disused legs collapse under you
and your knee hits the overturned chair painfully, catching the lugs attention.
Panic and adrenalin course through your system in an instant. You’re out
of that damn chair. You’re so close to getting out; you are NOT failing on the
first step! You lunge at him, sharp weapon raised. The action takes him by
surprise and he steps back but hits the wall in his surprised haste. The sharp end
catches him in the neck and buries itself in his esophagus. Thinking quickly you

9. clamp down on his mouth stifling his scream. Warm blood falls down your arm
and covers your hand as he jerks once, twice, then slumps against the wall and to
the ground.
Bile rises up in your throat as you stare at your now dead captor. Until
this day, you never fathomed how difficult it would be to kill a man. The yellow
sick you expel into the corner of the room ease your guilt somewhat. You shake
your head to clear you dizziness you feel coming on and look to the door.
Rushing over you give it a small push. It does not budge. You don’t know why
they decided to lock it now but you push it out of your mind and look for another
exit.
Looking behind you, you see the chain ladder. Nobody has used it since
you’ve been here and it makes you suspicious. Nevertheless, you do not have
time to be suspicious and you’ll take anything you can get as long as it gets you
out of this room. Running over, you give it an experimental tug. It is strong;
more so than you expected and it is in much better condition than you would
think, given how long you have been in here with the filth and blood. Slowly and
cautiously, you make your way to the trap door in the ceiling. Taking a deep
breath, and giving one last sidelong glance at the dead body in the room, you push
it up and open.
A hesitant peek up shows a white room. It is elegantly decorated with
golden trimmings along the walls, doors and stairs. It seems to be a main room,
or a hallway. Quietly as possible, you raise yourself up and onto the floor, a
hallmark for you, all things considering. The trap door swings and closes with a

10. soft hiss, causing you jump up in surprise. Looking around you see a large
window to your right, giving off burning, glorious sunlight. It warms your skin
and you cannot help but let a small smile grace your lips once again standing in it
for only a moment while releasing a small, contented sigh.
Suddenly a sharp piercing, burning sensation erupts form you back and
through your chest. It hurts so much you gasp out in shock, head lifting up to the
ceiling. Shakily looking down your front, you see what looks to be a knife
sticking out of your chest. You can feel the blood from a cut lung filling with
blood more so as it dribbles down your chin.
“The first visages of sunlight always do astound them.” Azeal whispers
softly into your ear. He grunts as he removes the blade with a small twist and lets
you fall to the ground. Desperately ignoring the searing pain in your chest, as
well as the blood filling your lungs, you try to crawl towards the door ahead of
you. “I do love the surprise the hunt seems to go through when they realize that
they are so close to escaping, but will never make it.” Azeal continues from
behind you.
You’re so close! Just a few more feet and you are free outside to-
The front door, the one that you are reaching towards desperately, swings
open. From where you are lying, bleeding, crying on the ground, you feel the
breeze as it gently caresses your face. You can smell freshly cut grass and spring
flowers (In the back of your mind you vaguely remember that you had shoveled
your walkway before going to bed that night), and in your ever darkening sight,
can see, just past the people standing in the doorway looking at you with well

11. concealed hunger, sunlight, in all of its radiant glory. It shines upon you,
warming your face; not through a window or in a long forgotten memory, but
truly on you for the very first time in a long while.
And as the people file in and around you, as the door closes forever
shutting out that glorious sight, and as your own sight dims forever, you smile
once more. For that one small occurrence, in that last instance, you were finally
free…