“It hurts,” Beverly said, looking up through the grated metal panels over her eyes. Her vision was blurry from the drugs. Mommy knew best though, so she struggled as little as she could against the leather straps cutting into her wrists and ankles.
“Of course it does, sweetie. But this is how you’ll win.” Mommy held up the struggling rooster. It fought, its claws tearing bits from Beverly’s naked belly. Then Mommy slit its throat. She shook the flapping cock over Beverly’s naked body, letting the blood scatter over her and mix into the cuts on her arms and legs.
Beverly reacted with muted sobs and soft whines. “I don’t feel so good. I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“Well, if you’re gonna throw up, make sure to swallow. The surgeon will be here any moment, and you can’t be rude.”
“I don’t wanna do this anymore.” She struggled harder, barely able to move now. Her limbs were weakening as her life’s blood poured more and more quickly from her arms and legs over the grooves in the table she was lying on and into the gold cup.
After a few more moments, she didn’t feel anything anymore. Beverly’s eyes rolled back and she let out a deep, long sigh.
Mommy picked up the cup, brimming with her daughter’s blood, and held it up. A man with pale, waxy skin that was stretched and warped and stitched over his face like wrappings stepped out of the shadows. He wore a blood-drenched doctor’s coat. His fingers were long and his nails were sharp as scalpels. He blinked, his eyes squinting behind flaps of tightly stretched flesh. He grinned a lip-less grin, showing off teeth as white as porcelain that each looked like they had come from different mouths.
The surgeon, took the cup and said, in a soft, whispery voice, “She’s going to be beautiful when I’m done with her.” And he drank from the cup gratefully.