The Iron Queen: Six Feet Under

Section IV: Sick, sick people

CONTENT WARNING: SWEARING, VIOLENCE. There are a lot of distrubing themes brought up in this chapter. If you do not want to know them as they can be considered spoilers just look away from this paragraph. *****The themes are rape, pedophilia and necrophilia.***** None of these themes will be discussed in great detail, just mentioned by the characters.

If you do have a problem with my content, please contant me personally and we will find a solution :) (I also publish this on booksie silk and booksie in case it gets removed.) Content guidelines can be difficult some times which is why I will always warn ahead of distressing content.

Some of the themes brough up might sound very misleading to the reader as they are not told the full picture of what characters reference. (I am regarding Merecedes' thougts about Carlsile and their conversations about Charles.) Therefore the themes will probably sound more upsetting to the reader than they in full are, but feel free to contact me if it bothers you greatly. I'll see if I can get some more information out in the next chapter.

I would also like to apolagise for not updating earlier. I have been very ill and busy with personal issues. My arm has also decided to cause me a great deal of pain so writing is difficutlt at the moment, hopefully it will go away soon. 

Thank you :D

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Mercedes Kingsley

Minus the fainted Mr Howard, there were five of us: Carlisle Hawkscliffe, some Damien person, Francis Cavendish, the broth-drinking little girl, and at last, me. In total we were six so-called 'prime' prisoners. Unfortunately, I knew exactly why they had snatched a child of the age of nine, and I knew exactly what they intended to do with her. All in all, I knew exactly why all of us were here, not that it was particularly hard to guess.

I was not raised to be faint of heart, unlike my fellow generation of women who lace their corsets so tight they faint from lack of oxygen. It is no wonder we are considered the weaker sex when you fools lose your conscience because of your own dresses!

Papa made sure that I received an education as close to the ones of my brothers as possible – not counting Jackson as he begged papa to send him to some private school in the deep farmlands of France and returned a devout catholic who wanted to be a priest. Whilst I couldn't be sent to the military as Thomas or the navy like Ashely, I got a barrage of teachers who taught me different types of combat. I was also taught languages, maths and science; but most importantly I was taught facts of life. When your family is a pack of heathen blasphemous criminals such facts are important.

Since I was taught that humans will always be terrible; nothing they could do surprised me anymore. One could also make the argument that since I have become incapable of experiencing any sensation like that of being surprised then of course humans wouldn't surprise me, but that was an argument for another day.

It wasn't sugar-coated at our breakfast table whenever some horrific episode took place. If forty people were found brutally murdered, molested and dismembered then they were found brutally murdered, molested and dismembered. It was because of evils like that which enabled me to know of evils like this.

My family owned a large amount of brothels. We keep our working girls, and boys, safe and we pay them well. Whilst this is not common knowledge, those who want to know are free to ask us about it. Whenever someone asks why, we answer that the more time the men of England spend with our whores the less time they have to rape their wives.