#FICTION - The Butcher and the Republican

THE BUTCHER AND THE REPUBLICAN
AN ELLA STORY

​
The clicking of my stilettos reverberates along the hallway, which stretches from my apartments to the rear wing of the mansion. I follow George, tapping my phone and checking stock quotes while I walk. Ray would be proud of me, multi-talking in heels and a dress. The green silk against my skin makes me smile and I’m ready to face the day. George clears his throat and stops as the hallway ends at two immense black double doors.

Tucking one hand behind his back, George opens the doors to reveal a wide chamber. Against the far wall are ten men bound to metal contraptions that look like portable torture vehicles out of a science fiction movie. Spikes and leather straps secure the men’s faces and limbs and I laugh at the scene in front of me. All eyes follow me, waiting on me to speak. This room contains specimens for the trial today and I’m going to select a participant.

“Welcome to Holden Farms,” I say, moving my eyes over the naked flesh. It’s difficult not to laugh at some of the unimpressive bits and parts on display, there being only one man endowed enough to make me pause for a second glance.

Turning from the rapists, I inspect various cutting weapons that line the walls. Swords, axes, knives of varying shapes, and in one corner – a portable mini-guillotine contraption on wheels. A giggle escapes my lips and Saul laughs with me. This must be his invention.

“I’ve been working on this for some time. It’s hard keeping secrets when I’m chained to your side every moment of the day.”

“Tsk, tsk, Saul. You know I hate whiners. Besides, you don’t complain about being so close to me when I let you…” my voice trails off and I do not finish the statement. The man with the huge bits and pieces stares at me with an intensity I dislike. I approach him, heels tapping against the concrete floor.

“Each of you men will make a choice today.”

The hate flowing from this man reminds me of father and sends a jolt of anger through my body, settling in my stomach and making bitter mix with the coffee I consumed at breakfast. Pausing before I continue my speech, I make a closer examination of this man. Dark brown hair with eyes black, like coal. Scars line his face, neck, and arms. And that cock of his, hanging like an impressive thick hose between tree truck legs. Gripping it with my hands, I twist until he grunts with pain.

“Not such a tough guy, after all.”

“Let me free and we’ll see about all that.” Pushing against his restraints causes flesh blood to stream down his face, the spikes digging into his skin. Droplets of blood fall on my arm and George hurries to my side with a towel.

“The choice is simple. Give the rest of your life over to me. Serve me however I wish. Or die.”

The eyes watching me contain a mix of fear and hope. How many will take the deal I offer when I explain the details? I open my mouth to speak when I hear that man laugh.

“Did I say something funny?”

“These men are as crazy as you if any of em believes leaving this room alive is an option. I heard about you on the news.”

Shrugging, I turn my attention to the other men, scanning the faces and eyes and twitching bodies for tells of how each man till react to my offer of a deal. Approaching the first man in line, I stop and rest my hand on the metal cage imprisoning him.

“What do you say? Live and serve me or die?” Extending my hand, Saul places a metal object in my palm. My special knife.

“Ahh…” the man stammers.

“This is not a difficult question. Live or die?”

The man fights to control his fear and manages to speak. “Live. I want to live.”

“One final question. The file states you vote Republican. Is that true?”

“What?” His eyes swim with confusion. I allow his tiny rapist brain time to process my question. “Yes, I’ve voted Republican, but not for many years because…”

I don’t allow him to finish. With a swing of my arm, the blade slices through his windpipe, sending a stream of blood into the air. Angry jets of red escape the gaping wound and I laugh and laugh while he bleeds onto the floor.

“Wrong answer.”

Turning to face the other men, I wipe the blade with a fresh towel George presses into my hand. “Any other Republicans in the room?’

The man with the coal black eyes speaks. “Kill a man for being a Republican? The worst mistake this country ever made was giving women the right to vote.”

“Being a Republican in my mansion is punishable by death.”

“Except her husband,” Saul cuts in.

The man laughs again and spits. “You’re sick. Didn’t your daddy hug you enough?”
​
I laugh and tap the blade against his cage. “You and I are going to have a lot of fun this afternoon. Well, I am. You’re going to scream.”

GET A SIGNED COPY OF ELLA
or
Get a Custom Edition 
with Handwritten Short Story inside the book