A Knife's Tale (ONC 2021)

Chapter Four

"That's it? She hits you in the head, and then—bam—you're a knife?" Guinevere asks, rubbing her eyes as if she'd fallen asleep.

"Of course, that's not the entire story. Can't you hear the floorboards upstairs? He's back."

She keeps up her brave front, trying her hardest not to change her expression, but for a moment, I see her eyes widen in fear.

"I've known the guy longer than you have, and I've picked up on some of his habits, so as long as you listen to what I say, he shouldn't take things to an extreme. First off, finish that last biscuit. He hates it when the girls don't eat their food."

She picks it up, but doesn't eat it. "So, I'm just one of the girls, now?"

"To him, yes, you are. Now hurry."

Finally, she eats the damned thing. She struggles to swallow it—it's been almost a full day since she'd had any water—but she manages. "Ugh. It's like sand in my throat."

"He'll give you some water soon. Though, I suggest you follow my advice when he does."

The stairs groan and creak as Lawrence heads down once again. With a squeak from the hinges, the door swings open and he walks in.

By the handle, he's carrying a stack of nested buckets, the bottom of which almost dragging on the ground. His muscles look tense, struggling with the weight of his haul, and he sets everything down near his feet. "Did you miss me, Guinevere? I imagine those biscuits have made you rather thirsty."

"Fuck off," she snarls.

Not the right answer, but the situation is still salvageable.

"It's okay to give him a little venom—in fact, he prefers it—but don't spit at him like a cobra. You ought to comply with whatever he asks next," I say.

Lawrence wriggles the top bucket out of the stack and heaves it over to a spot near Guinevere. "Would you like to have a drink?"

She responds by moving forward on her hands and knees, stretching her chains to their limit, but she still can't reach it. His lips curl up into a smirk as he pushes the water bucket an inch further. "Sorry, I thought you could reach it."

"Fuck you!"

He knew full well she couldn't reach it—the routine is the same with every girl. He's judging her personality and devising a tailor-made plan of torment for her. The man's disgusting and terrible, but he's not particularly stupid.

It's always hard to watch, but with Guinevere, it's even worse. I can't stand the thought of him hurting her. I don't have a heart, but it breaks me somewhere to see him toying with her. If I could draw tears, my blade would be wet enough to rust right about now—not that I could rust.

She's the first person to know the story of my life before becoming a knife and opening up to her is freeing. It's hard to describe how stifling two centuries of immobility and muteness are.

I couldn't lose her—she's the only interesting person I'd met in the longest while.

Guinevere glances in my direction, obviously listening to my thoughts. Then, she stretches her arms out as far as she can and grasps the edge of the bucket. When she tries pulling it forward, it won't budge.

I knew she wouldn't be able to do anything to it. The guy usually tosses a heavy, lead-containing rock into it, so only a person matching his physical strength can move it.

Her frown widens. "What is this? How do you expect me to drink if I can't lift it?"

He grins. "Well, how do dogs drink? Your face should be able to reach the edge."

His words infuriate me, but the best choice for her is compliance. "Do it, he's getting to the limit of his patience."

He crosses his arms and begins tapping his foot on the ground. His eyes fix on her, watching and waiting for the moment she breaks. "You really are quite lucky that I'm so accommodating. Is dying of thirst so much better than keeping your petty dignity?"

She leans her head forward like she's about to attempt it. Then she says, "I'd rather die."

"I can arrange that, but it's not quite time. Still, your fiery tongue is rather admirable. How does a tongue piercing with a dragon ornament on the barbell sound? I hear it's popular with the ladies nowadays."

I can't help but picture him slicing her tongue into ribbons with the assortment of scalpels on the bench. The thought of watching him cut into her twists my mind into knots that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to unravel. Even worse is the idea of him doing it with my own blade.

"Drink the damned water already! It's not that big of a deal!" I shout.

Her defiant gaze locks straight into his eyes. "It sounds like shit. I prefer my mouth unmutilated, thank you."

"Good, good. I'll go put in a special order for one now. I know you'll love it." He throws the other empty buckets at the wall next to her, and I hope I don't need to explain to her what they're for.

He turns to leave. "Be sure to drink. And don't even try to drown yourself. It never works." With a loud slam to the door, he's finally gone.

I thought she had some kind of plan, judging from her confidence. But if her plan means pissing him off on purpose, then it's an impractical one. She has no clue what he's capable of, and the game with the water is a joke compared to what's coming.

"Could you not hear me, or were you just trying to ignore my advice? If you could just drink the damned water, he wouldn't have punished you yet," I say.

"Oh, I could hear you. But, what does it matter anyway, if the ending will always be the same? Isn't it better to meet my fate a little quicker?"

"But, then I'll be alone again!" I shout in my thoughts, before realizing what I'm saying.

She sighs. "Don't worry. I'll be here for you until the time comes, and I promise not to read your thoughts when we're not talking."

It's a relief to hear her say that, but I still don't trust it. It's one thing for her to eavesdrop and then talk to me about it, and another for her to hear and process it, but not acknowledge me at all. I don't believe it's possible for me to have true privacy.

With Lawrence long gone, she leans forward and dips her face into the bucket. Dignity or not, living things need water.

"Why couldn't you have done that in front of him? Now, I'll have to watch him mutilate you."

She lifts her head and shakes it. "He can stab and slice me all he wants, but I won't humiliate myself in front of him. And it's just a tongue piercing. You heard him, lots of ladies have them."

"You don't seem to understand. With Lawrence, it won't be just a tongue piercing. There might be six instead of one. The ornament he's getting might be large and uncomfortable. He might pull a few of your teeth just for fun."

Her brows furrow in annoyance. "I'll deal with that when he comes back."

"You won't be saying that after your first round with him."

"Why don't you just shut up?"

"I won't. He shouldn't be back for a while. Why don't I continue from where I left off when Madame Estrella knocked me out in the cave?"