Chapter Eight - Slaughterhouse

WARNING: This story contains material that might be triggering to some viewers! Adult content! Proceed with caution!

Chapter Eight - Slaughterhouse

Emoria took a thumb tack out the glass box and pierced the tip of her thumb with it. A thick glob of blood oozed out as she pressed her index finger against the opening, forcing out as much liquid as possible.

"I will begin the process of turning over the mines under your name on your eighteenth birthday. Legal procedures are slow. As for the head maid and servants, I will dismiss them myself. The estate manager will assist you with the other premises."

Her thumb pressed down against the soft sheet of paper, her smeared fingerprint and his scratchy signature sealing an unknown fate for both individuals. Was she wrong to manipulate the information she knew like this? To exploit her sister's death? To exploit the love of the main leads? To lead her father into ruin?

Perhaps so, but she decided to live selfishly for a little while. Her survival depended on her being confident in herself, even if that confidence was sometimes a farce, a play. Who in this world was truly moral?

The good ones are surely dead and the leftover humans are traumatized vessels. Broken people trying to survive, tip toeing their way through life. The remnants of their scars haunting them every night.

Its all a play, and you get to decide which role you'd like. After all, humans are not born but they become.

"Thank you, father."

She wanted to vomit. Thank you. Such a polite response, an appropriate one. Yet why did it feel so rotten bouncing off her tongue? The irony of thanking your aggressor.

"I must say, I am impressed with you child. You finally realized what everyone needed from you. You may leave now, lest you have something more to say."

'I dislike you. With every ounce of my being, with every atom of my body and mind. With every drop of my blood, with every breath that I take, I dislike you. I understand that you were only a byproduct of some jumble of unfortunate events... but for the first time in my life I am going to let myself dislike someone who has wronged me. I don't have to forgive you, and I never will. It's okay, for us to just pretend to be family for a few years, but I will never forget these moments. I will never forget this.'

How she wished she could spit that out. How she wished to jump onto his desk, grab the collar of his shirt and scream. Claw at his eyes until he could see how much hurt he has caused her. To make him feel just a drop of empathy.

Emoria bowed her head and shut the door behind her. Violence is not just, but it felt good to entertain the thought.

Let's gamble a little, put our lives on the line. Who has been dealt the better hand, father?

...

An older gentleman appeared behind her door a few days later. His silver hair was neatly brushed back and gelled and a peculiar papyrus scent washed over her whenever he would move a step closer to her. He had a nurturing face and his eyes were always nonchalantly cast low. She soon learned that his name was Antoine and that he was the estate manager of the winter manor they were staying in.

"Your father has requested your presence at dinner, my lady."

Dressed in what looked like a torn potato sack, the girl followed the butler as he led her onwards. Despite his age, the man walked with a straight back. His chin was elegantly held high and his arms swung carefully by his sides. Yes, that seemed to be the case with all the Vaughan servants. They seemed proud to serve this family.

An unpleasant scent was coming from her skin and her hair sat as a tangled braid on her shoulder. The maids were all dismissed and there was no one left to bring hot water up to her washroom. She would have done it herself but her body was growing incredibly weak and simply getting up from bed was an inwards battle. It felt like her bones were crumbling and her insides decaying.

The girl assumed that the other servants felt dirtied by the thought of assisting her so she did not make a move to request anything from them.

It saddened her to think that adults could be so indifferent to a child's suffering. Surely even this butler knew the state she was living in, the mere sight of her was proof enough of the neglect.

"Antoine, I have a question for you."

"Yes, my lady."

Emoria hummed in response and turned her head towards the windows they were walking across. The snow was drowning everything and the light from the sun was bouncing off in pastel colors. How pretty.

"Are we short-staffed?"

"No, my lady. Why do you ask?"

He looked surprised by her question and slowly turned to face her, his bushy white brows pressed together with concern. She wanted to scoff at his reaction. Was he pretending he couldn't see her clothes? Her torn leather shoes? The hair strands that weren't brushed?

"I assumed that we were going through some financial problems..."

She feigned innocence and looked away from him, her expression becoming pitiful as she grabbed onto the folds of her skirt.

"Why did you assume that my lady? Is there something the matter?"

Was it wrong to mess with the elderly like this? To manipulate them? She was doing a lot of that recently. Admittedly, it was a little fun.

"Nobody comes to clean my room nor help me bathe. I did not want to burden my darling father-."

Darling indeed.

"-So I decided to just bare with my condition until things become well again, oh please Antoine don't tell my father! It would break him to hear that I am living like this!"

Emoria exclaimed with fright, her voice faltering as she reached out to grasp his hands. Her brilliant flesh almost disappear around his warm skin as she began to weep.

Antoine's eyes widened with horror and he immediately dropped to his knees. He took her scrawny fingers between his gloved ones and pressed his forehead on her knuckles.

"I will do my best to assist you, my lady. Please give me until tomorrow morning to sort this inconvenience out. I will handpick several servants and bring them to you. You may select who to keep and who to discard."

Emoria wrapped both her hands around his and squeezed with delight, her lips turning up into a pure smile.

"Oh thank you, Antoine! You mean the world to me, especially since you are so dedicated to my family and I."

Yes, dedicated. So dedicated that you neglect a girl's suffering. Was Elain forgotten like this too?

"Please, my lady."

He gracefully sat up and opened the dining room door, motioning for her to enter with an open hand.

'Oh Antoine, you're welcoming me inside the lion's den.'

Elain twisted her head at the sound of an intruder, her expression melting with glee. She bit her lip excitedly and bounced her leg underneath the table. Her father on the other hand paid her no mind and continued on with his meal.

You invited me here yet you begin eating before I've arrived. Is this your way of reminding me that I'm not wanted? A rebellious act? A protest?

Antoine delivered a warm piece of steak on her plate after she had made herself as comfortable as she could at the dining table. The meat was still steaming.

"Emoria, your tutors will introduce themselves to you in a week's time. Until then, I've arranged several tailors to come and make you... look presentable. Do not embarrass me with them. Rumors are quickly spread."

She nodded solemnly in response and began to cut into the steak, the juices oozing out as she was met with the sight of red muscle. The thought of a cow being slaughtered and skinned snapped into her head. She suddenly began to feel sick.

"Oh, I'm so excited for you Emoria! You always wear those filthy fabrics, you must be so grateful that father has requested the tailors presence. Let's get matching dresses!"

The queasy girl brought the raw flesh up to her mouth and crushed it down with her teeth. It had an flavor taste of coal, had they cooked this outside? What kinds of sounds does an animal make when they are being killed? Does its mother hear it from outside the barn? Cutting into the steak felt like a crime.

The grandfather clock ticking by the corner of the blue room droned on and on. Arwan kept making conversation with her, telling her what her duties were and constantly reminding her to not embarrass or humiliate him. The steak was now broken into thin slices and her stomach was becoming a bubbling mess. Shortly after, he dismissed himself with Antoine following suit.

"Emoria! Did you finally follow my advice and apologize to him? I told you! Father is such a kind man, all this time you could have been forgiven. You should have followed my advice silly! I need to go now, the maids are worried sick about me!"

Elain was halfway out the door before she turned around and said with a tauntingly happy voice.

"Don't anger father again, it upsets me to see him like that. Let's live like a happy family from now on!"

...

Icy hands slammed against the porcelain toilet as she dipped her head into it. The food rose up to the tip of her throat before she began vomiting her insides out. The stench of the residue sickened her even more, it made her feel dirty.

Hours had passed and she found herself glued to the washroom. Her throat burned and she was disgusted by the state she was in.

She felt like a cow, soiled and neglected inside a barn. Ready to be slaughtered. Ready to be ripped apart from limb to limb.

Ready to be devoured.

Author's Note:

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