An Education by UnknownRandomness

What's a Little Torture Between Friends?

A/N: Annnd yet another challenge! This will be a series of unrelated oneshots, unless stated otherwise. I couldn't get this plunnie out of my head once it attacked. First time attempting something dark, so it may be a little contrived (and may not make sense- I'm sleep-deprived). Please let me know what you think, even if you don't like it :)

Obscure Word Challenge

Prompt: Fauvism - A movement in painting characterized by vivid colors and free treatment of form. It was popular in Paris during 1905/early 20th century.

Word Count: 404

The man's screams echoed through the enclosed space, and the woman felt bile rise in her throat once more. The unpleasant smell of fresh blood was enough to invite gagging; its sharp tang invaded her senses and when coupled with the horrific noises being emitted from the man's raw throat... she hunched over and retched, her empty stomach twisting.

For countless hours, this torture had been executed, both terrifying and beautiful in its intensity. The woman was a reluctant spectator, held there by a misplaced sense of loyalty that was swiftly wavering. He had always been indifferent; that's what had won her over to his beliefs- but his impassive mask in the face of such agony, agony he was inflicting, made her feel faint.

The man had begged for mercy, at first, and then freedom- not to be released, no... freedom of a more permanent kind. But his captor was cruel, and did not give such a gift lightly. He demanded entertainment. And nothing pleased him more than the warping of nature, the perversities he could perform on the man's helpless and resisting body. The loud cracks of breaking bones were almost rhythmic in time with the man's screams; and the woman loathed herself for doing nothing. Nothing but watching.

It wasn't that she enjoyed it, found some sick, subconcious fascination with it; no... that was his domain. She opened her clenched lids and her eyes immeditely found his disgusting smile, a facade of a grin- an estatic grimace, as the muscles in his face were over-stretched, the enjoyment he garnered from this being too great to portray on a face of mere flesh.

"Look at all this beautiful blood! I am so very glad that I used the solution... with it, these amazing combinations of colours form a wonderful, no spectacular mural. It is familiar... why is it so- a-ha! Fauvism; that is it! This looks a little like some of Matisse's fine works. Do you like Matisse?"

The woman shivered at his conversational tone, as if he were discussing the weather, and not a grisly mess comprised of an innocent man's innards. Asking the man if he liked Matisse... torturing the body was bad enough, but his personal touch destroyed a person's soul.

Closing her eyes once more, she sent up a desperate prayer- as she always did- to all the kami. Praying that she would never be used as his canvas.