You Should Be

Afraid

The butcher strode casually across the room, trailing his hand over the backing of the old, worn sofa his companion was perched upon, her gaze tearing away from the static filled television she’d been watching in favor of observing him. The way he moved wasn’t graceful in the slightest; fluid and natural, yes, but far from graceful as he hobbled around the couch, his single large, red eye light watching her with a certain level of intensity that never ceased to make her unconsciously fidget in her seat. She had learned not to fear him, but adrenaline still coursed through her body whenever she received that look from him. As he drew closer, the scent of something all too familiar wafted in her direction, and she pressed a hand into her stomach, a blank expression settling on her face as her stomach rumbled. A wave of pain shot through her emaciated frame and her face contorted into a pained look of shock, but before she could force any words past her chapped lips, the butcher roughly cupped her face, his bony fingers digging into the skin of her jaw to an almost painful degree as he tipped her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Her faded grey eyes briefly caught the sight of the crimson stains that covered his shirt and jacket, and her stomach growled again; judging by the exact shade of the stains, they were fresh, having occurred probably no more than half an hour ago. The part of her that retained a tattered sense of morality pitied whatever unfortunate soul had stumbled across his post, but at the same time, she felt no true, genuine remorse. At the cost of another life, they’d make it through another day, which was good enough for her. She’d do whatever it took to numb the pain she had to endure, thanks to the severe food shortage this town and all of its residents had to suffer through. If only their pathetic excuse for a queen would actually take the necessary measures to get everyone back to the surface…She was snapped back into the present moment at the sound of the butcher clearing his throat, his husky voice holding a very clearly questioning tone, “You’re so calm… so relaxed. So unafraid. Doesn’t it scare you, knowing what I could do to you at any given time? Knowing that one day, you might not make it til sun down?” 

She tried to shake her head, her movement immediately coming to a halt as his grip on her jaw tightened ever so slightly. Licking her lips, she forced a mumble out of her now dry mouth, her gaze meeting his, “No… I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of what you could do to me. Is everything ok?... What prompted this?” He chose to ignore her questions, instead leaning down until their eyes were even and their faces were dangerously close to touching. His voice took a much darker tone and his scarlet eye light flared up with a small burst of magic, his hand releasing her jaw and, to her surprise, wrapping around her throat and squeezing. The pressure he applied wasn’t enough to cut off her oxygen supply, but it was enough to make her struggle to draw in each breath. She parted her lips and began preparing to force out another string of words, only to be abruptly cut off, his voice lowering to a mumble, “You’re really sure I don’t scare you, Addy?... I could break your neck right now if I saw fit, you know.”

He loosened his grip just enough to let her speak, and she did, keeping her gaze connected to his, “I already told you, I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.” A low growl rumbled in his chest and he whispered, his eye light beginning to narrow as he watched her, aware of every movement she made and every word she spoke, “You should be.”