Scorched
by L.J. Blount

Tawny watched with great satisfaction. The center of her globe eyes flickered and sparkled from the red and orange flame. They appeared to be dancing with one another as the flame rose across her eyes, casting a joining shadow across the bridge of her nose.

A thin sheet of smoke rose from the flame tickling her pudgy nose. She wiggled it, then scratched it gently with the backside of her forefinger.

She bit her bottom lip in anticipation, like a child waiting to be served a mountainous sundae might. Her pink tongue slowly dragged itself across her slick upper lip; it glistened like ice, reflecting the brilliant colors of the flame.

Tawny pressed her lips together, crinkling her moist, crimson painted mouth. She sucked in fluidly, then parted her lips ever so slightly, blowing out the prancing flame.

Pinching the hot meat tenderly with her fingers, it peeled away, almost falling from the bone. Bringing the meat to her mouth, she cooled it with her breath.

Placing the meat into her mouth she smiled, then exhaling she spoke in an inviting tone, "This may be the best meal I have ever prepared." Her voice was harmonious; her broad smile lit her engaging face.

"Don’t you agree daddy?" Tawny rose, looking over at her father.

He was stern and silent, as she was accustom too.

Tawny plopped down on her chair, her blissful demeanor clouded for a moment as she sulked. "You never answer me," she pouted.

She sat in silence; her eyes wandered the dingy kitchen, brushing across the stain wiped cabinets. The air in the kitchen was stale, stale from the chimney of cigar smoke that exhausted itself from her father’s mouth. Years of it, her entire life and no doubt well before that.

Tawny sat. Only the subtle sound of her chewing kept the kitchen from being entirely still. Drawing deep breaths, she exhaled her smile behind the savory taste of the meat.

"I don’t care if you’re not enjoying yourself. I’m having quite the time. And this is so delicious." Tawny snapped, pointing at the meat before she turned her back to her father.

Usually her smart mouth or antics would bring the back of her father’s hand, or worse yet, his belt. But nothing was forth coming, not even a stern lecture.

Tawny crossed her arms before her yet fully developed chest and chewed "like a cow," smacking her delicate lips.

She ran her thin milky fingers along her golden tresses, batting her eyes seductively. "The wonder I tolerated you all this time." She said, spinning around in her chair.

She felt a bolt of defiance race the length of her fit spine. She tore a chunk of meat off the bone, stuffing it in her face unlady like, she complained, "You are such a pain-in-my-ass. I don't think I like you any more." Specs of meat ejected from her pretty mouth, spraying wide across the room.

She looked over at her father, still he ignored her.

Tawny tried to relax in her chair. Grabbing a skewer from the table, she examined it. The long twisted shaft that led to the flat dagger-mimicking end. She traced it with her finger, coming to rest at the tip, pricking her skin, drawing her own blood. She followed the droplet as it rolled down the edge, then dance with the metal through its twist.

Placing her finger into her mouth, she sucked and moaned like those women in those movies her father always watched. Movies he made her sit through.

"Just like they do it, right daddy?" She asked, before she dipped her entire finger into her mouth.

She giggled as she played with the skewer. She ran it up one side of her, dipping low so that it would touch her ankle, then worked it up her calf, over her thigh, drawing small scores here and there.

Bringing the skewer to her mouth she, as seductively as she could, lick the tip delicately. The blood there left a distinct crimson streak on her pink tongue.

Chuckling wickedly, she rose from her chair. Her father continued to look away from her, ignoring her, and doing everything he could to "piss" her off.

Tawny planted her open palms hard on the table. "You ignore me, shun my meal, and now you don't even care that I’ve cut myself," she spat, pointing at a small cut on her thigh.

Silence filled the room as a deep frown creased Tawny’s otherwise enchanting face.

"Fucker," she crooned, then quickly covered her mouth. Her azure eyes were wide with surprise of the vile word that parted her lips. She looked away from her father, tightened her body she braced herself for his wrath.

Nothing…

Then…

A crazed scream violently slashed the waiting silence. Tawny’s father slashed about, his limbs flailing wildly.

She curled herself upright in her chair, bringing her hands to her ears. Her father wailed like a wounded infant. "God, make it stop. Make it stop," he bawled.

Tawny looked over at him, writhing like some animal in the jaws of a steel trap.

"Sweet Jesus, please. The pain, what the hell is it." He yelled louder, in his thrashing he clipped Tawny with a flailing hand.

"No. No, you bastard," she cried.

The years of abuse, torment all pent up was about to unleash itself in a torrid rage of hatred. Her eyes grew from their socket as she spat profanities at her writhing father.

Tawny clenched the skewer that she cradled to her chest. Raising over head she stared down at her father, looking intently into his frightened eyes. She had the power, for the first time, a power she had ever intentions on exploiting.

She plunged the skewer into her father, repeatedly, sending streams of blood rocketing into the air, and shards of flesh raining across the room.

"You won’t beat me any more daddy," she cried as she continued to plunge the skewer into him.

She stopped when he stopped. When he stopped moving, gasping for air, when he stopped pleading for her to stop. She looked at his pitted body, the small holes bored into larger vacancies.

She sat down; slumped in her chair she looked herself over. Blood. Every where there was blood, she could feel the warm fluid as it clung to her clothing and ran freely down her bare arms and legs.

She glared at her dead father. She peeled another chunk of meat from the bone, "Look what you did daddy, you ruined my dinner."

Tawny took the skewer and scrapped the small slivers of her father’s cooked leg from his bone; she dragged her tongue up its length savoring the last of her dinner.

© L.J. Blount

L.J. Blount has also had aother work published with: Blood Covern, Blood Roses: Tales of the Macabre, MuseIt, Death Grip and Shorty, Scary Tales.