Taste

Consume

Men are dumb. They think they're so good and strong, but they're just bugs. And I will crush them.

I walked towards the normal-looking house. It felt like anyone approaching it would be safe, anyone inside of it, blessed. Its beige bricks showed signs of age, their once probably rich colour now paled by the sun and most of the front wall covered in deep green ivy. I wanted to get inside, to run to it and be safe from the cursed men who sent me there in the first place.

But I had to kill that witch and kill her I would, but I don't think they expect how it will go.

I felt the rune burn in my neck, my Bonded's will trying to overpower mine. The inconvenient of that Bond is simple, really. If he's stronger, he can enslave me but if I am, I can do the exact same. Silly, silly Sully. He was in for quite the surprise blow.

I walked up to the door and knocked, trying to look innocent and hurt. With how dirty I was I didn't really have anything to do. The woman opened, shocked at my appearance. Her eyes were a deep green and her hair was blonde. She wore a simple blue and green gown, complimenting her eye colour. She adopted a worried expression, her voice alarmed and kind.

"What in the world happened? Dear Lord, you look like you've been through Hell and back!"

"Please," I begged. "please let me in. Don't let the men hurt me worse! Please, they're coming for me!" I pushed a slight Command in my voice. Not enough to make her to let me in, just enough to let her know how much danger I was in.

She nodded and moved out of the way, letting me come in. The house's magic immediately blocked the rune off, making me feel more at ease. I tiredly let the witch take me to her bathroom, where she let me shower off the filth I was caked in. This place felt so calm and peaceful, it was almost intoxicating. It made me lose my edge, and it was dangerous.

She lent me a small gown. It fit loosely, but it was better than what I was wearing. My jailors had found only rags to dress me in, which were left in a basket to probably be burned later. I knew her kindness was only a disguise, smoke blown into my eyes, but it made me feel closer to home. I wanted to stay and be close to her, the problem was that I couldn't. She was a dangerous ant-lion, and I could easily be the prey.

As I came out the bathroom door, she was waiting for me. She smiled, showing a row of perfect teeth. "This is beautiful on you dear. Would you join me for dinner? You seem to be starving."

"You have no idea how hungry I am, um... I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name."

"No need for great introductions, really. Just call me Carmelia."

To this I nodded obediently, feeling the weight of a Command. In this dress, my Bond was revealed, but I don't think she bothered with it. She simply smiled and led me forward to the kitchen, where a small cauldron bubbled over in the fireplace. I could smell stew, the same smell as when I lived with Nan. Probably a nice, fat child's thigh.

I could already taste the tender meat, how juicy it would be as it almost melted in my mouth. She served me a hearty portion, always smiling. It made me question the food for an instant, but I was too famished to complain. I ate quickly and with relish, the stew as tasty as I imagined it.

"You're not the first witch they send here." She said, sitting in front of me. She ate a bit of her stew and stared me right in the eyes. "You're also the youngest they've ever sent. They torture kids now? How disgraceful." Her sweet tone had melted, her voice, like ice, reflected the cruelty I knew only witches could hold. I met her gaze, cold and hateful, and stared back. I wasn't going to lose.

"They shot down my Nan and forced me to sleep." I said, sadly. "I just want to be free now, I'm not here for trouble. They're pretty dumb, to be honest. They Bonded me to a man, but his will is so weak next to mine he'd be lucky I felt anything right now. Would you please help me escape? I won't make it without help..." I said, adding the slightest Command to each of my words. She just had to fall for it.

And the idiot did.

"Sweetheart," she said, her voice sweet again, "the other witches all tried to kill me by now and you damn well know I can murder you right where you stand." Her perfect smile widened. "But I suppose your freedom can be arranged."

She walked towards a cabinet and brought out a small book. Her book. She went through the pages and found a small recipe, which she immediately got started. The smell was bad and made me gag, but I couldn't walk away. Not so close to my goal.

Sure, that bitch was going to free me. Sure, she was going to help me become stronger. But no matter how much she helped, I was probably just a pawn in her game like she was one in mine. I was her freedom just as much as she was mine. With me gone, she'd be left alone for a while, but if she let me kill them all, she would be left alone forever. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be this way for her.

Her death was my freedom and I sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip.

I grabbed my fork and my bowl, approaching the cauldron where the stew still bubbled. I noticed how she looked at me, expecting me to take more like any starving child would. I picked up the ladle and poured myself more of the boiling hot stuff. It was sad to have to waste such good food, especially since the child she took the meat from was so tender and fat. I walked towards the table, going past her slowly.

I violently grabbed my bowl and shoved the hot liquid in her face. She screamed, the sound of it so horrendous I had goosebumps. She backed away, her hands to her face and her back hitting the counter. I moved in for the kill, jabbing my fork right into her neck, the pins piercing the soft flesh. Her dark blood rushed out, her panicked breathing making it spray out faster. She tried to speak and probably Curse me, but the fork in her throat blocked any sound other than the gurgling of blood from leaving her mouth.

I grabbed a knife, knowing instinctively how sharp it was next to the others. I plunged it into her chest, carving out her still beating heart. The bones offered little resistance from how hard I stabbed, the heart soft and squishy in my hand. I ripped it from her chest and held it triumphantly, my freedom so close I could taste it. For a moment her eyes met mine, a fear and hate I could barely describe nested deep into her pupils. And as she watched, with her life slowly seeping out of her body in a dark crimson puddle under us both, I bit into that beating heart.

Boy was it good.