blood orange sky (bwwm horror)

beautiful

The cabin was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls as the sun dipped below the treetops. Calliope stood in the small kitchen, the scent of wood smoke mingling with the earthy aroma of herbs she had gathered that morning. She was trying to focus on the task at hand, chopping vegetables for dinner, but her mind was elsewhere, caught in a cycle of dread and uncertainty.

Lucas had returned from one of his hunts, his presence filling the space like a storm. She could hear the creaking of the floorboards as he moved, the soft thud of his boots against the wood, and it sent a chill racing down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of him as he stepped into the kitchen, his clothes smeared with dirt and the unmistakable dark red of fresh blood. He grinned at her, a predatory gleam in his eyes that made her stomach twist.

"Look what I brought back," he said, holding up the carcass of a deer, the lifeless eyes staring blankly at her. He had blood smeared across his cheeks, and for a moment, she could almost see the devil trapped behind his own eyes. "Dinner for us."

Calliope forced a smile, though her heart raced with fear and revulsion. "That's... great," she managed, turning back to the chopping board, willing her hands not to tremble as she diced the vegetables with mechanical precision. She couldn't shake the image of the deer from her mind, its once-vibrant life reduced to a bloody offering.

He approached her, the scent of blood and sweat wrapping around her like a shroud. "You know," he said, leaning casually against the counter, "we still need to consummate our marriage."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she dropped the knife, the blade clattering against the wood. Her throat tightened, and she felt a wave of nausea rise up from the depths of her stomach. "I—" she started, but the thought of it made her head spin.

"Don't you want to?" Lucas continued, his voice low and teasing, as if he were discussing something casual and light-hearted. "We're two hot blooded adults, I find you beautiful and I know you're attracted to me. It'd be natural."

She shook her head violently, a shudder rippling through her. The image of their wedding night flashed through her mind—the dress, the chainsaw, the blood. She felt her throat constricting, a gagging sensation building as panic clawed at her insides. "I'm going to fucking be sick," she gasped, stepping back as the room spun around her.

Before she could stop herself, she doubled over, her stomach heaving violently. The remnants of her lunch surged up, spilling onto the floor in a nauseating splatter. She could taste the bitterness in her throat as her body betrayed her, expelling the fear and disgust she could no longer contain.

Lucas's expression shifted from amusement to irritation, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. "Clean that shit up," he said, his tone cold, devoid of any empathy. "You need to get a hold of yourself."

Calliope wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, gasping for breath as tears pricked at her eyes. She could feel the heat of his gaze burning into her, the weight of his expectations suffocating. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice shaky, but she knew deep down that nothing could excuse her revulsion.

"Clean this up now," he commanded, his voice sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Calliope knelt on the cold wooden floor, staring at the mess she had just made. Her stomach twisted at the sight of her own vomit, a nauseating reminder of her fear and panic. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to retch again, and looked up at Lucas.

"Now. Callie," he said, his tone as sharp as a knife.

With a shaky breath, she nodded, grabbing a rag from beneath the sink. As she pressed it against the floor, wiping away the remnants of her humiliation, she could feel Lucas's presence looming over her like a dark cloud.