Blood and Lust

Chapter 13

cw: heavy gore

Quackity's POV

Wilbur and Quackity tentatively head downstairs.
"Remember, if he asks, I was the one that chopped off your fingers, OK?" Wilbur whispers to Quackity.
"Sure."
Phil's there (why is he always downstairs? Doesn't he have a room? Quackity thinks) and looks up when they come down.
"Ah, back already?" he says smugly, then notices Quackity's severe lack of fingers on his left hand. "Great job, Wilbur!"
"Yeah, thanks," Wilbur says awkwardly, but Quackity gives it away by giggling- the pain high has obviously not worn off completely, since apparently Quackity's smiling like Phil's just told a very funny joke, not praised his captor for supposedly cutting off two of his fingers.
"Why're you laughing?" Phil asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Quackity, then at Wilbur.
"I dunno why he's laughing, really," Wilbur says awkwardly. "I think he has a thing for pain."
"Ew."

Quackity, feeling like he can do anything right now, has a burst of confidence and marches right up to Phil.
Then he spits right in his face.

Immediately, Phil reacts with anger, slapping him across the face, knocking him to the ground.
"What the fuck was that for?!" he exclaims, staring at the man underneath him with disgust.
"Dunno," Quackity giggles. "Felt like it."
"Quackity!" Wilbur hisses at him. "Don't do that!"
Phil wipes the spit off his face and kicks Quackity's head in, the deranged man laughing with each blow that lands on his head until he's nearly passed out.
"How sick do you have to be to enjoy this?" Phil says with a sneer. "Seriously?"
"I don't know, but I do anyway," Quackity says with a wide grin. "Guess now I'm a vampire, my body's not as... what's the word for it- weak. So I can handle more."
"So you've become a masochist?"
"If that's the word for it, then yes, I have."

"Fucking weirdo," Phil says, landing a kick- much harder this time- on Quackity's temple, which makes him fall to the floor.
"Is he out cold?" Wilbur asks, shaking him gently. "Quackity? Quackity? You there?"
There's no answer.
"Out cold," he grimly tells Phil.
"For the better, definitely. How can we torture him more?"
"Um. I don't know," Wilbur says awkwardly.
"He had fiancés, right?" Phil says. "And you killed them?"
"Erm, yeah."
"I think I've just had a very good idea."

Quackity's POV

He wakes up, not on a chair, but on a bed. It's comfortable and warm and it really helps with his throbbing headache.
He doesn't want to open his eyes. The duvet is thick and warm and engulfs him up to his chin, comforting his aching body, which is basically the best thing for him right now.
But he feels a presence- no, two presences- next to him, and his curiosity gets the better of him.
He rolls over.
And what he sees nearly makes him scream out loud.

To his left, tucked into bed with him, is the cold, pale body of Sapnap, rotted and disgusting but still containing his main features.
To his right lies Karl's, equally as rotted.
He throws the sheets off in surprise, making a disgusted sound, and surveys the two.
They're still in the clothes they were wearing when they died (why has nobody bothered to change them? Quackity thinks in dismay) and they're laying face up on the bed, completely still.
A bit of blood has leaked onto the mattress where Karl's lying and some has got onto the duvet.
Quackity tries to get out of there, to get away from the rotting corpses of his old fiancés, so he tries the door.
Locked.

"Fuck's sake!" he exclaims out loud.
He stays there for a few hours, but- oh no, he thinks- he's getting hungry.
Like, really hungry.
He glances at his wing.
It doesn't work anyway, right?
What's the harm in eating the rest?
He plucks a single not-so-golden feather out of his wing, giggling at the spike of pain it gives him and stuffing it into his mouth.
The taste isn't actually that good, but he's loving it because of the fact that it's from him. That it's come from his pain.
One would think that golden duck feathers would taste horrible, but not to Alex Quackity. Not at all.
To him, they taste amazing.
He continues on, taking handfuls of the stuff and revelling in their delicious taste and grinning manically as he shoves them all into his mouth.