Theodore "T-bag" Bagwell

What should we do?

*WARNING FOR SENSITIVE DETAILS

I found myself standing in the lobby, looking at the dead body of my father laying in dried blood. 
 
"This is easy," I murmured to myself as I rampaged through the kitchen looking for a plastic bag.
 
"Okay, let's start—nope. If we can first chop his body into pieces." Great, now I'm talking to myself. I feel crazy yet anxious. I stopped for a minute to think.

"Maybe I watched too many episodes of 'Dexter'" I scoffed to myself.

Yes, I'm starting to feel crazy, thinking I have a murderer sleeping upstairs and a dead body in front of me. I heaved myself up and collected my thoughts to rapidly grab every piece of plastic I could find. One thing about cleaning up a dead, rotting body is that you should not vomit. When your junkie mother and alcoholic father forget the responsibility on the table, the foods will rot day by day, and the most disgusting to ever rot is the fish. This is exactly what travels through my nostrils while I'm transporting my dead father. When my mother left, it was the only time you could call this house a house. And yes, my mother left when I was a kid.

My stomach couldn't take the smell, so I rushed down to the lavatory and puked whatever I ate last day. It started to come to my senses that what I was doing was wrong; I should have called the police to report this criminal. I heaved myself up to get to the phone near the kitchen, and before I knew it, Theodore was standing there looking at me with those dead pretty eyes, slightly tilting his head.

He grinned at me and said, "Where are you going, pretty?"

I froze with terror, not even trying to glance at the phone in case there was cause for concern. Playing it casual, I stammered,

"I was going to get rid of the body,"

but he could see how vulnerable I was already. As though that were a nice thing to hear, he bowed in admiration. He approaches me and puts my hair behind my ear. He studied my face, cupping my cheeks. He looks at me questioningly and says,

"Why do I smell something called... fear?"

My eyes showed fear, even though I didn't say anything.

"Are you scared of me?" He asked.

I stayed silent, but he can see it in my eyes.

"It would be such a surprise if you say yes because I know exactly what a real moan coming from a woman last night"

He was still softly petting my cheeks and grinned, taunting me. I put myself in the position of a drenched puppy staring up at her owner. His face sank abruptly. I could taste his lips and feel his warm breath on my face. He was pinning himself to me as he devour my delicious mouth. To catch our breath, we paused. Then he took my hand and led me to the bathroom without saying anything. We moved gently inside. My face flushed bright red as my heart raced once more, only this time I felt intense cravings in my stomach. I gave it some thinking. As we entered the shower.

"Sorry, I didn't catch up your name". I lied

"Theodore Bagwell, but you can just call me Teddy" Gave me a quick wink with a smirk

"Hmm... sounds moanable to me" tease I.

"Believe me, I was born to make you moan it now"

"Really?"

"Yes, pretty" he nodded to assure me

"Take your pants off" he flashed a little surprise look.

I lowered myself down onto my knees. This time I'm going to do the trick. Our gazed are still locked to each other and begun to unzip his pants.