Lamb to Slaughter

I thought that it would be my turn on stage next, but instead, they brought out a girl in her later teens with severe acne scars and what I would soon see were terribly misaligned teeth. As they took away the table that Garotinha had been strapped to, they wheeled in a pair of tall wooden posts with cross-shaped bases so that they would stand on stage unattended.

Fastened to each of the posts was a series of rings that swung freely as they were maneuvered into place. Once there, two men fastened chains to the manacles on her wrists and proceeded to feed the chains through a pair of rings high on the posts. As they pulled the chains taught, the girl’s arms were pulled wide and she was raised to the point that she was standing on the tips of her toes. I silently prayed that she wouldn’t have to stand there for long, given that she didn’t even have the benefit of the stilettos that I wore.

My prayer was answered, but I’m pretty sure it was Satan’s doing, rather than any merciful god’s.

As the workers left the stage, the guard behind me tightened his grip and I was guided out onto the stage and pushed toward the imprisoned girl.

Not knowing what else to do, I stepped up next to the nearest post and said in a quiet voice that I meant to be both comforting and not carry to our captors, “It’s going to be okay, miss.”

In response, she began crying and whispered, “Por favor, no dejes que me maten.”

I… I didn’t know what to say. I assumed that she was asking for my help, but I didn’t know how to reassure her.

At this point, the lights began to dim and, before I could think about freeing the girl in the dark, a spotlight illuminated us. Some voice came over the speakers and said “Something, something, nosferatu.” I couldn’t understand it, so I stepped forward, to the front of the spotlight, straightened my back, and tried to stand there as though I wasn’t afraid, like the girl nearby.

While I was standing there, a figure dressed in black crept quietly from the side of the stage, though I didn’t even notice him until afterward. What I did notice was the intensified crying of the girl behind me, followed a moment later by the, uncomfortably sweet, scent of flesh blood.