Bela

Dani's Day

"Alcina!" The lady of the house heard a shout from downstairs. It was the voice of the only male in the entire castle. The head butler, a scruffy american that made some of the crassest jokes she had ever heard. He also had never gawked at herself nor her daughters and was often far more invested in that dog Aila of his.

He was just short of six feet and had fluffy but short kept salt and pepper hair. Most days, he had an absent look when he wasn't speaking or working, as if lost in a library of his own mind.

"What is it, Barkley?" She asked, looking up from her lounging sofa and her latest notepad full of potential revenge plans for this manthing who had harmed her daughter, but at least for now, she was sworn to peace.

"I just found all the skulls rearranged again!"
"Oh dear..."
"Dani keeps rearranging them and..." he went on, and it was really nothing she hadn't already heard a dozen times. She sighed, knowing it was an anxious habit of Dani's to rearrange the corpse garden, but she couldn't quite figure out why nor what had caused this more recent spike in her anxiety.

"Let me speak with her, Barkley. Why don't you take Aila out for the weekend?"
"... fine, but I'm keeping the Royce." She chuckled and offered the keys, knowing he would never scratch her baby.

"All yours."
"Thank you." He sighed as he took the keys and departed with a more relaxed feeling to him. She breathed a bit in relief as she closed her notepad and stood. It was about time she had a good, long talk to find the crux of this issue.

...

Danielle was quietly holding a small teddy bear in her room. She felt so off today. Ever since she had seen Bela, she had tried to pretend away the issue while mother had been around, but every inch of her ached now. An anxious fury she was coldly familiar with. Her sisters were incredible. Her mother was practically a goddess. She? She had a talent for arranging intestines. How useful...

"At least you are good at somethin, Ms. Fetty." She mumbled as she squeezed her stuffed bear closely. Its face was a mangled mix of wrong stitches and too many ears. Its tummy had fake blue guts hanging out of its red stained belly fur and was about as green as any corpse. It was the first gift mother gave her when they had come back, back when she had no memory of who they had been before.

She began to feel all that anxiety, all of that frustration burn. She fought at the fog that clouded who she was and felt hot tears pour across her cheeks. She could not sit still. She could not linger in this cloud anymore. She would not be useless.

Her sister would not be harmed so meaninglessly.

...

The bar was filled with laughter of drunken people. A dive bar tucked away in a small corner of a suburb that blared with music that was far too loud.

"Notha ron barmen!" Shouted a laughing man. Tall, handsome, blonde hair cut neat and short with vibrant blue eyes. He had a rugged face and a charming smile that was slanted with the slur of drunkenness. He swiveled on his stool as his buddies laughed.

"Hm." The bartender grunted. "Think you have had enough."

"Fuck you say?!" The man stood instantly, reaching over the bar only for a black gloved hand to grab his wrist. He felt the bones shatter after only a moment, and he screamed in agony he hadn't ever felt just before a fist collided with his jaw.

When at last he came to, he was tied to a chair in his own basement. The little dungeon of toys he often brought women down to indulge in. Hooks, sex toys, chained boards, and crosses that could hold someone down while he enjoyed his work. Now, it was a shamble of shattered wood and shredded carpetting. He growled and felt the gag block his attempt to shout while his hands dug into sturdy rope binding them to his own chair. He had been stripped bare and felt a painful tightness beneath his waist, constricting his manhood.