Living on the Island of Vaas (A Farcry Fanfiction)

Chapter 5: The Dog

WARNING! This chapter contains violence, animal cruelty and other things that may be offensive for some readers... You have been warned!

Welcome to the jungle, we take it day by day

If you want it you're gonna bleed but it's the price to pay

Chapter 5: The Dog

Myra was eight when she killed the neighbor's dog. She was sitting in the living room armchair, staring out the huge window. Her mother and father were gone to one of their many cocktail parties. Myra was bored beyond the point. She fiddled with her fingers, watched the sky turn to night, and wondered what fun she could possibly have. Just at that moment, the next door dog, Smarties, barked. She perked up, all senses at rise. A shit eating smirk crept up on her face. She hated feeling like this, like she was going to kill something.

She got up on her little feet, walking down the grand hallway and into the main kitchen. Myra's house had three kitchens. One for maids, one for breakfast, and the other for grabbing a quick bite. She had two dinning rooms, though, one smaller than the other. The bigger one was used for visit, important visit, usually having to do with her dad's work. The other was where they ate everyday. Making her way into the smallest kitchen of the three (if you could even call it small), she grabbed a kitchen knife. She didn't know why she did, but it was the only thing that looked cool to play with at the moment.

She made her way to the back door, perking her ears to hear if her sister, Jane, was still upstairs. She heard the small thud of music and smiled again. The dog barked, beckoning to her. She squealed the door opened, slid outside, and closed the door behind her. The summer night air gently patted her exposed calves and arms. She remembered feeling a huge rush overwhelm her as she heard Smarties bark again, louder. 

Smarties was a big golden retriever, with long golden locks that made the fake-ass-tits girls jealous. Myra didn't care about his golden locks, she had dark brown ones, she was just bored and needed a challenge. She made her way to her neighbor's fence, passed between the loose planks and emerged into their yard. Smarties was tied to the post in the middle of the yard. Myra rolled her eyes upon seeing the canine rush to his feet and wag his tail like a moron. And, oh boy was he.

Smarties almost got run over by cars dozens of times. He was such an idiotic dog, and Myra thought she was doing the owners a favor by getting rid of him. She approached him, the shit eating grin on her face again and knife in hand. Smarties yapped once and skipped towards her. He reached her feet and licked her calves. To her amazement, he acted like he couldn't smell the murder on her skin. She frowned and cocked her small head sideways. 

With an emotionless face, she struck the knife in the dog's throat. It yelped, thrashing around, but Myra wound an arm around Smarties' torso and held him against her. He struggled as she plunged the knife deeper, feeling nothing and utterly nothing. Except she did feel the hot blood trickle down her arms and his hairs scratching her flesh. Another thrust of the knife, and Smarties fell dead to the bloody grass. Myra stayed there, staring at the dog and couldn't help but turn him over.

His eyes were crazy and open. His once beautiful, golden, sunshine coat was now bloodied and dirty. She passed her small hand in amusement in his bloody coat before standing up and walking back home. Now that dog won't annoy me anymore, she thought. 

As Myra thought about Smarties again, she watched Vaas making his way around the other cages around her, completely ignoring her presence. She watched his unpredictable and fierce movements, his grins and gestures, his theatrical ways of speaking, and his eyes. Even in the dark, Myra could see the colliding colors in his eyes. Hazel, mixed with green, and a bit of grey. How rare were those eyes? She continued her studies, watching the green gem hanging from his neck that thudded against his chest every time he did a brusque movement. She watched his hands, oh those nice hands, with veins that spurted out of them, twisting up his arms like a snake, the white and dirty tissues he wore around them, some connecting with the fingers.