His wintry blue eyes held my own in a snowy embrace. The room disappeared as he took a menacing step closer and closer; soon I could smell the minty freshness of his breath against my face. His eyes flashed with excitement, and I knew the excruciating pain would begin shortly.
I became aware that the music had stopped, but I didn't let him know.
He swirled the flowered mug shard in his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine, and then he profusely thrust it into the soft flesh of my upper arm. I felt a quick pinch and then the room began to spin as a searing pain ripped through my nerves. I let an agonized scream claw up my throat and slip through my lips.
His lips twisted into a sickening, hungry smile, and he quickly reached forward to touch the blood that oozed from the sickening wound. With a crazed look in his eyes, he dislodged the shard which caused the pinching to cease and a fiery burn to ensue. Starting from the edge of the injury, he began to thinly slice the skin from my arm with the bread knife as if it were merely butter. I gritted my teeth and waited for shock to settle in and the pain to disperse, but it never came.
The burning sensation rippled through my veins and settled in my racing heart. It continued until he had the correct portion to feed his hunger, and then it ebbed for a short amount of time before flaring up again. He placed the bloodied skin in a buttered saucepan and produced a roll of medical tape and bandages from the drawer next to the sink. Tenderly, he pressed his hands on my forearm to stop the heavy bleeding, and then he tightly wrapped the cotton material around the wound. Taping it in place, he stepped back and admired his work.
It wasn't long before the white material turned a deep red.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Peter, Peter
TerrorWarning: If you have nightmares after reading about cannibals, this is probably not the best book for you. Having said that, I hope you enjoy the story!
