The Dining of Asher Delacruz

Prologue

The man wiped his lips, and began eating yet again. He took small bites; relishing in every flavor, every pop, every tang in the dish. As he continued, fork scraped teeth for the first time in a while as the distinguished gentleman enjoyed it more and more. Wild hunger partook him, and he wolfed the rest of the meal down, licking and scrounging thick liquids from every crevice of the plate.

When he had finally finished his delicacy, he sat back and demanded the large television in front of him be turned on and flipped to the news channel. His assistant, Blakely, obeyed quickly. He didn't need any more bruises that day.

The glow from the screen casted a blue light over the gentleman's face, illuminating his murky brown eyes and expensive, blood red, self-made chair. The light raced over every surface, across the neatly made bed, the spotless carpet, and into the porcelain themed bathroom to meet a single spot of blood on the shower's faucet-- a rare mistake.

But the gentleman's attention was on the newscast.

"--emperatures will be high this afternoon, be sure to leave your coat at home," a perky voice emitted from the flat screen. The news anchor sitting next to the beautiful speaker laughed awkwardly. The anchor was staring at her with a look of hunger similar to the gentleman's-- same predatory eyes, same shadow of a grin that seemed to be permanently engraved  on his face, but something was different. Unidentified.

The gentleman continued watching, routine information passing over him and drifting elsewhere in his mind as he waited, blood running stiff in his veins. Patient. Ever so patient. As the program went on, every minute inching closer to what he had waited so dearly for, his fingers dug into his priceless seat, and his heart pounded excitedly. Finally-- finally, it was time.

"The mystery of Asher Delacruz, has come to an end. James Brown, a trusted school teacher, has been arrested for the torture, rape, and murder of Asher. Police found her sweater and jeans at the scene, ripped to shreds at Brown's home. Her handprints were left at the scene in Brown's bedroom, revealing the rape after police recovered a tape with Asher on it. James is currently awaiting sentencing, on one count of murder, one count of aggravated rape and assault, and multiple counts relating to child pornography and torture." The woman delivered. The gentleman shook his head and chuckled darkly. They had no idea.

"Now, to speak with the family. Adam?" She signaled, cutting straight to Asher's parents and sister, all looking dramatically solemn under their designer raincoats and  separate umbrellas. The drops plummeting from the sky painted the little girl's face; contorting it into a grimace, that, paired with the raindrops, almost passed as a weeping child's love for her sister.

Pathetic, the man thought. They were all stupid. Absolutely, amazingly, pathetically, stupid. They did not care about her, and they never would. It was all bullshit from the start. The gentleman, however, felt everything towards Asher; in fact, as much as he thought her liver and intestines a wonderful delicacy, it physically hurt him to kill her. To hurt her. To witness her captivatingly brown eyes gape at the sun one last time. But they needed to pay. They needed to learn.

Her family was a bunch of self important pricks. The amount of people they hurt couldn't be compensated by one person, much less their beautiful failure of a daughter. Every blackmailing word was felt by every tear shed by the victimed families, and as the tears grew larger, so did crimes committed by the Delacruz family.

And so, what was one left to do but pay them back? For every stressful night, every murder, every splatter of blood on our cheap tile floor, it was all for the Delacruzes. The gentleman's rage built up inside him, simmering, always simmering. Ready to overflow.

Ready to kill.

"Blakely!" he called out. In no time at all, his slave was by his side, awaiting orders.

"Get me Asher. I'm very tired and hungry."

"Yes sir. Immediately sir." The servant quivered. He scooped up the gentlemans plate and took his leave, fully intending to carry out the orders of his master.

As soon as he stepped outside of his masters corridors, he heard the routine screaming of his masters' soon to be meals. It had annoyed the gentleman so much that he made his room soundproof and demanded every person under his capture be sedated during his time at work and as the night fell, promptly at six pm every night. As he descended, the screaming got louder, and so did the servants' guilt. He never knew when he was delivering someone to their death.

When he got to the final level of the mansion, he clicked on the overhead light, and with it, came the silence of every person in the room. They were just as scared of the gentleman as he was, and no matter how much noise they made, they never wanted him to come down, they just didn't want to be forgotten. As the gentlemans' closest servant, he unintentionally got the same fear as the gentleman himself.

He clearly his throated and walked over to Asher's side of the room.

She looked up at him, brown eyes as dead as could be. She was nursing her newest wound, and she began to panic when she knew who he came for. And, truthfully, she was scared as could be. She knew what was coming and she didn't care enough to try to stop it.