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Chapter 5

"So what's your deal?" Otis asked me.

I finally found my voice. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't seem too shaken up. Ya didn't scream or cry or try to run away, nothin'."

I still didn't have an explanation for myself. "I dunno. I mean, it's not like any of those things would do me any good."

Otis seemed almost satisfied with my response, but not quite. "That's true, least ya ain't stupid."

"Mhm," I mumbled, not sure what else he wanted me to say. He was still looking at me, as if to gauge my expressions or to coax more answers out of me.

"Well, we can't just sit 'round moping about all day, we got some work to do." He stood up, grabbed my arm, and dragged me back up to his room.

The curtain which once covered my dismembered family was still open, but, to my relief, the 'Cerberus' had been removed from the room. Otis pushed me onto his bed.

"Now stay here and don't move. Behave yourself," he ordered.

He left the room without waiting for a response. I was left alone, and I began to think about just what kind of "work" he was going to make me do.

The silence was broken when I heard clattering and thuds coming from downstairs, along with desperate pleas for help and various curse words being thrown about. My nerves spiked as all the different possibilities of what was going to happen raced through my head.

The commotion grew louder as it came closer, until Otis burst through the door. With him was a completely naked girl, with numerous bruises, scars, and other wounds littering her body. He shoved her into the room, causing her to fall on the ground. All I could do was watch, wide-eyed and petrified with fear.

Otis grabbed a bundle of ropes and grabbed the girl again, fastening her to a hook in the ceiling so that she was standing upright. Once she was secured, he turned around to look at me.

"I'm bein' real nice to ya, so you'd best be grateful." All I could do was stare at him. "I ain't gonna make ya participate in this, since this is your first time and all, but I do expect ya to watch. And don't try to be no goody-two-shoes, I can't stand it when motherfuckers try to play hero."

Still immobilized, all I could do was nod to show him I understood. Satisfied, he turned back to the girl. Her desperate pleas for help had lessened into quiet whimpers, which Otis wasn't pleased by.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth before I cut your tongue out and shove it so far down your throat that ya can't think straight."

His threat only made her sobs worsen. Otis stomped into the side room that the curtain blocked off, which left the girl staring at me. I felt horrible that I couldn't do anything to save her. If I tried, it would only be a death sentence for both her and myself. I felt selfish thinking this because I knew the girl wouldn't make it out alive, I was only worried about what Otis would do to me.

After he rustled around in the back room, Otis soon returned, wheeling in a cart filled with old, rusty weapons and tools. Many of which were covered in old blood. He picked up a medium-sized scalpel and ran the tip of it all over the girl's body, lightly enough to not draw blood.

Suddenly, however, he plunged the weapon into her side, forcing a scream out of her. He played around with the scalpel more, making cuts here and there, with her letting out high-pitched wails when the sharp point pierced her delicate skin.

Soon enough, Otis got bored and grabbed a large knife. He slowly sliced it down the middle of her chest, from her collarbone to her pelvis. The shriek she let out was soul-crushing. I tried my best to obey Otis's orders and continued watching. Otis didn't seem phased by the scream, he seemed more annoyed than anything.

Heaps of blood and guts spilled out of the gaping wound, some splattering on the floor, and some onto Otis. Once the girl was dead and stopped twitching, Otis turned around to face me.

He had a sadistic smile on his face, complementing the bodily fluids soaking his clothes. I could tell that he was trying to see if I was enjoying this as much as he was. Judging by the disappointed look on his face, I probably didn't seem too thrilled about it. He turned back around to continue working on the girl's corpse.

He cut the two flaps of skin open more, revealing her rib cage and the organs that were still suspended in her body. He emptied out what was left in her abdominal cavity, letting it fall to the floor. The squelching sounds it made nearly caused me to gag.

Once the girl's torso was emptied of its organs, Otis grabbed one of the girl's ribs and— SNAP! —cracked it out of place.

The broken bone separated from the spinal cord with a sickening cracking sound. Otis repeated what he had just done, breaking off the girl's ribs one by one, and setting the bones on the cart. Once the rib cage was dismantled, what was left of the girl's body was an empty shell, with the isolated spinal cord hanging down the middle.

Otis grabbed some sort of glue or adhesive, most likely bone cement, and spread some on one of the broken-off ribs. He lifted the bone back up to its old residence, but glued it backwards so that it protruded outward.

He repeated the gluing with all of the ribs he had just broken off, to make some form of morbid wings. He then took the dangling skin flaps and wrapped them tautly around the ribs to make a cover for the "wings." The result was a gruesome, monstrous, spine-tingling (no pun intended) flesh-bird.

Otis took a step back to admire his handiwork. I was also able to get a better look at it. As hideous as the process was, the result was actually...well-crafted. From watching him create his work, I could tell that Otis had lots of experience doing this, a fact that should've frightened me.

For some strange reason, I started feeling enthralled by this form of "art." Sure, it was completely inhumane and immoral, not to mention gross in general, but Otis's techniques and ability in making his art were remarkable.

Otis stepped to the side for me to get a better look at it. He, once again, gauged my reaction to it. I must've seemed more pleased this time, since he didn't seem unhappy about my reaction.

We remained in silence for a long time before he said, "Ya still don't seem too freaked out by all this. I mean, ya look scared, but ya didn't try to stop me or nothin'."

"Well you told me to not try to stop you. And it's not like I would've been able to if I tried."

"Guess you're just good at followin' orders then, that's good. Most whores I bring up here don't listen to a fuckin' word I say."

He was clearly angry at the fact that other people didn't listen to him. I couldn't blame them, though. I mean, who in their right mind would actually listen to this lunatic after seeing what he's done? Me, I guess.

"Well I'm glad I'm not 'most whores' then," I said, my fear was still unable to stop me from being a smart-ass. Luckily, Otis seemed to like my witty responses.

"You're right, you ain't most whores." He moved closer to me, still covered in gore. "You're my whore."

He pressed himself up against me, the coppery smell of blood overwhelming my senses. He brought his lips up to mine. I wanted so desperately to refuse him, but after seeing what I saw him do, I was too terrified to stop him.

I didn't return the kiss, but I didn't make a move to stop him either. That didn't slow him down as he pressed himself closer to me, smearing the blood from his clothes onto my own. The flesh-bird still stood in the middle of the room, watching our every move.

Otis started feeling me up, this time was much rougher than it was last night. I just hoped he was as "gentle" this time as he was yesterday.

He definitely wasn't.

This time, Otis was much rougher. Instead of gently pulling my clothes off, he ripped them to shreds. He didn't give me any time to catch my breath before he was violently thrusting into me.