Owen oneshots

Writing

Trigger warning(s): Cannibalism, depictions of gore, implied abuse (?)

First person POV
POV: Owen
Owen's age: 16/17

I run, or, well... Stumble, to my room, closing the door behind me. I bar up the door with a wardrobe so that she wouldn't be able to get in. I let out a shaky breath.

That was close. To close...

I go over to my desk and sit down, watching the door. My ears go down as she pounds on the door, calling me obscene words. But she can't get in. She's not strong enough to move that wardrobe.

I stare for a few more seconds before hesitantly turning around so that I'm now facing the desk. I open a notebook. A fresh one. I didn't know whether I should draw or write. I stare for a while before deciding to write. I've done enough drawing for today anyway. Though, question was, what should I write?

I think for a bit before deciding to write a poem. A dark one that was a freestyle. I didn't do well with writing poems when I had to follow a specific style. And so I begin writing.

Cannibal castle

Take away my skin and my meat
Chew on my bones
Cook my flesh and dine in a room
A room, sitting on a throne
You're royalty in this castle
And I'm the servant who's destined to meet your every need

One day you call me to talk in your chambers
You wore a mischievous smile
You tell me to bite and tear off your flesh
You tell me to treat you like how you treat me
I take the opportunity, ecstatic to make you see what you've done to me

I take your leg before biting in to your calf, feeling the cold liquid pour in to my mouth
You let out a loud yelp, something I relished
I gnaw and gnaw on your skin until I see bone
Tears stain your face and you're now shouting at me to unhand you
But I'm not done yet

I move to your arm which was now batting at me
I bite your finger and you let out a terrifying scream as it falls out of my mouth
I begin to chew on your bicep, feeling your muscles flex as you try to fling me off
Though your attempts on make everything worse
Just like how my attempts always made everything worse

Eventually you call a few guards to your chambers
They tear me away from you, a large piece of flesh coming off of you as they do
You let out another high-pitched scream
This is everything I imagined it to be
You, writhing in pain, bleeding...
It was a beautiful sight, one I couldn't tear my eyes from

The knights take me to a dungeon and locked me up
Why? I hadn't done anything wrong
After all, the royal one was the one who told me to
Who told me to commit my crimes, my 'wrongdoings'
I should not have to be punished for such things
And so I began sobbing in confusion, sadness, but most of all
Rage

Rage for the one who I served practically all my life
Rage that they fed me to the wolves
Rage that they set me up like this
Rage that they couldn't even handle the smallest dose of their own medicine
Medicine that's suppose to have dosages up to three times more than I gave

How could the creator of my life not be able to tolerate such things for only a few minutes
When I had to endure these things all of my life
When I had to endure so much more in so much less time

...

I just don't get it, I guess.

I let out a small sigh as I put down my pencil, now done with the poem. Well... I wasn't exactly done. I'm just not sure what else to add. I know it's incomplete because it doesn't feel right to leave it there. But what can I do?

I close my notebook and place it off to the side on my desk. I get up and sit on my bed as the pounding outside my room gets louder and louder, and so does the screaming. It's so annoying. And exhausting.

...

I need a break.

Words: 707