Candy Pop Corpse

11. Doughnut Decision

"Well, yeah." Charles popped up and looked at me. Head cocked to the side, he said, "But they're kinda... never mind." With a shake of his head and a rattle of his jaw, the zombie went back to work.

I threw candy in my mouth at rapid speed, tilting my head at him. There was a slight crunch to them, but otherwise tasted the same. "What is it?"

Styke cleared his throat. "Nothing."

Another crunch. The macaron's sweet raspberry cream swam over my tongue when I bit into its shell. My legs wobbled from the pure satisfaction. I licked my lips to wipe away the remaining pink juice and crumbs.

"Styke," Wastia called before jumping down, "C'mere."

I watched them move in long strides. Wastia's boots squeaked with every step she took, while Styke's worn shoes were silent. They walked to the back of the shop, in a spot hidden between broken shelves and boxes. Rather than eavesdrop on their private meeting, I was more interested in what Charles was doing.

Once the last of my handful was devoured, I wiped my clothes down and stood. Jam polka-dotted my pink skirt while dried blood stains clung to the cat print on my shirt. These definitely weren't clean anymore. I strolled over to the counter. Occasionally my eyes wandered to where the other two were, but eventually settled on the rusty cash register. "Are you done yet?" I asked when Charles' back came into view.

He didn't respond; the zombie was preoccupied with fawning over his work of art. A shaved, slender leg rested in his hands, with a broken stiletto hanging from its foot. Charles' mumbles were low, yet one sentence still found its way to my ears: "What I would kill to have her step on me."

Nope. I made an attempt to slink away as he rubbed the thigh against his cheek. A glass shard cracked under my foot two successful steps later. Dammit! The bakery must've had something against me.

We froze in unison. Me, in fear I'd step on something worst next time, and him for reasons I couldn't possibly know. Charles sucked in his drool, then peeked back with widened eyes.

"H-Hello there," I squeaked out. Holding my hands up, I continued, "I didn't see anything, really!"

"Doesn't matter if you did, I guess. Although, you may not want to look too hard." A frown spread across his face. "It can get gruesome."

What did he mean?

He answered my question when he returned his focus to the limp leg and rolled its fishnet stocking back. Despite my disgust, I gawked in awe as he bit down. A groan left his stuffed mouth when he ripped off a chunk, similar to the ones I made when sweets were in my proximity. Were humans really that good?

I pinched myself before rationality left me again. There was no way I'd eat a... a human. I was different; sweets were all I needed. My sweets stash was proof of that, right?

"Oh, right." His words snapped my attention to him. Charles looked to my hand then to me, before sighing. "Here," he said, placing my machete on the table. Blood dropped from his chin to the blade.

Once my hand wrapped around the handle, Wastia's shaved head appeared from the corner of my eye. I faced their direction in hopes of good news.

Styke rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. He glanced to me, then to Wastia, a small smile planted on his face. After a shrug, he let out a heavy breath. The stench of blood and gunpowder wafted in my face.

I grimaced, turning to Wastia after she cleared her throat.

She pulled her black belly shirt up, then looked at me. When her arms crossed, a glimpse of her bare ribcage was visible. "We've decided," she started, drawing my attention to her face, "to let you in."

My eyes widened. "What―"

"On one condition. You need to prove your worth to us." She glared at me. "We don't need liabilities. Depending on how you do, we may help you out."

"Really?" I couldn't help jumping around, unable to contain my excitement. "That's great!"

Styke took a step forward. "Don't get too happy; you only have two weeks. For this one, we'll show you the ropes. After that, it's up to you."

I glanced from my machete to him. "So, this is a test on whether I can handle this life?"

"Basically."

"Let's get started, then." I walked to the kitchen in search of a sink. "I want to find my brother quickly."

Charles tucked the severed limb in his duffel bag when I walked past him.  "Sure sure, but you need some rest first."

Bile bubbled at back of my throat. The leg's owner―a woman clad in a tight-fitted red dress―laid by his side. I would've thought she was asleep if not for the pool of blood under her back. Her stomach resembled the heel on her foot from the vibrant scarlet liquid coating her skin. It overflowed from a gaping hole in the center, decorated with dozens of sweets and treats.

So that's why it tasted good. He added sweets! I patted my own stomach, somewhat proud to have genuine inards in my body. Saliva built in my mouth at the sight. "Interesting," I whispered, dropping to the floor. "She's full of candy!"

The intoxicating sweets drew me closer. Charles stared at me with raised brows. That didn't matter. I had to get that sugary goodness down my throat before I could focus on anything else. Before my quivering fingertips could snatch a gummy-worm from her 'stomach', a jagged bat pushed me back. I whipped my head to Charles, whose eyes stared daggers into mine.

He wiggled his finger in my face with a frown. "Hold up. That doesn't belong to you."

"B-But, it's junk food." There was no way I could resist gobbling them up after setting my sights on them! Regardless, I retracted my hand. Getting on their nerves wouldn't do me any good. I chewed on my painted thumbnail as a way to distract myself. Dried blood and sugar brushed against my tongue. "It's right there, and I can't...take a bite?"

"Nope. Especially not the leg." His bat lowered when I stood. "This babe's mine," he concluded.

My tongue clicked as I stood. "Fine. My candy's better anyways."

Grabbing the machete, I dragged it to the sink to scrub it clean. Dib's strawberry cake, plus Charles' leg job dyed the blade almost entirely red. Red was not my favorite color.

I twisted both knobs and wet a sponge. Water bullets shot down the open drain. Rust clung to the facet, dotting the stream brown. "Urgh," I groaned, but proceeded to scrub the weapon clean.

Behind, Wastia's voice grew closer. "What do you think you're doing?"

There was a clatter. "I was thinking of taking another bite. Just one, I swear!"

"Don't be greedy. If savages come because of the stench then I won't hold back." Her voice seethed between clenched teeth, dripping with venom.

Stench? I squeezed my sponge tightly and scrubbed harder. Patience, Lulu. No one here could smell the alluring seductiveness of sugar. It wasn't their fault, just a matter of preference. If staying with these tasteless fiends brought me closer to finding Jack, then so be it. I took a long whiff. Scents of vanilla frosting and baked bread infiltrated my nose, drawing my attention to the pile of sweets I'd left to stale.

My hands stopped moving. With a glance at my stomach, I grinned. Looked like I still had room for more.