Work Text:
I don't think you understand, mama.
I want to rend the bitch's heart from his chest. I want to sink my silk-soft hands into the flesh underneath his cravat, I want to taste the rot underneath my tongue.
I want-
I want-
I want to feel the stuttering of his heart in my palm. Let the blood flow from the tips of my fingers to the bend of my elbows, unravel those guts and wrap them around the chandelier sparkling above us all. Watch his eyes bulge and his voice falter, spit into the open cavern of his chest and pour boiling water over what remains.
Mama, I want to eat him alive. I want to pin him down and watch him flail, I want to rip my teeth into the soft baring of his throat, I want to feel the thick, hot blood on my tongue and hold it in my mouth until it clots.
I want to work it into every gown, into every shift, into every strand of my hair, until it dries brown, until it flakes, I want-
I want-
I want to live.
Will you love me, mama, when I emerge from this dance with blood and flesh between my teeth? When I dirty the rug in the hall and the polished floors, will you hold me still, as you did when I was too little to express an opinion?
If I bring you this pound of flesh, what will I be?