an ache.
It was a routine. He would stay awake till food was brought to him. If he could force himself enough, he would eat it. If not, he would throw it out of the window. Starvation was the one thing he hadn’t given up on, and it hurt to eat. The loss of food was not that great—but the gift he wished it would bring was a painful reach.
Auro knew that he meant to kill himself, had explained numerous times that it was useless, that he was going to live whether he liked it or not. The more energy he lost, the closer he came to death, and the more he remembered. It was a great treat for such a small loss.
Soon enough, the food appeared. The dirty plate was an obvious diss to Talon. The dried steak was barely an ounce, the blood that seeped from the sides long crested, and the water that was on the plate looked…brown. The rim of the cup had been used; grime and dried saliva was visible. He grunted, taking the plate and considering. Dropping his eyes, he threw the plate and cup out of the window.
They wouldn’t miss it, and he didn’t mind feeding birds that weren’t there. Returning to his corner, he bowed his head and waited.
Just like he had done for the last six months.
Chapter 2
Auro gave Talon his meal for the day and waited to hear what would happen. He stood on the other side of the door, listening silently. There was a rough groan, and then the soft scrape of plates against the ground.
He knew what would happen before Talon did it. In less than a second, the cup and plate clattered outside of the building. Auro pursed his lips in disappointment. He wouldn’t mind feeding the thing more often, but his strength had many cons—one of which was Auro’s possible downfall.
Silently, he left Talon to his thoughts. The pain in his arm was enough to appease Auro, and Talon would surely try harder to kill him if he tortured him anymore for the time being. The thought left a smile on his lips. He almost initiated the collar, thinking of Talon’s cries ringing behind him.
Almost.
Lazy, he strolled down the dark halls of his house. More a mansion than a house, the windows were draped with dark maroon curtains. The floor was covered in thick black, stainless carpets. It was one of his greatest prides, the immaculate house he lived in. Auro hated to have such a wonderful dwelling dirtied, and would kill anyone who thought to make a mess of it.
As the modern language would say, he was a spazz. Auro’s forehead wrinkled, his feet carrying him to a short pedestal. On it sat the head of his previous master. The gray marble was smooth and shiny. His frown stayed in place as he studied the bust, trying to understand what was wrong with it.
He could hear Lyne down the hall, in the kitchen. While they had no need to cook for themselves, or even eat at all, Lyne took pleasure in creating things. Auro was not so enthusiastic. He only ate what his brother gave him if it didn’t have worms festering inside it.
One of Lyne’s favorites was baked scorpion drizzled in seasoned blood with a splash of lemon.
Auro almost gagged, then finally found what was wrong with the bust. Affronted, he stared at the hairline crack that ran from the widows peak to the left ear. It was so thin that Auro might have missed it if it wasn’t for his exceptional eyesight. Sighing with agitation, hating that things aged, he made the bust disappear and replaced it with a replica. He looked around himself, pleased.
Everything was in order.
He continued down the hall, away from the kitchen. He feared that if he entered the horrendous room, he would be forced to try Lyne’s newest experiment. He thought, for a rueful moment, that if they were humans, this taste deficiency would not be a problem.
Then he shrugged, throwing the thought over his shoulder. To be human was to be weak, and to be weak is to be an abomination. Auro was greater than that, and would not bother himself with human problems.
The open window at the end of the hall was dark, covered with a billowing curtain. The harsh wind and cold weather didn’t bother him in the least. Talon, he knew, was affected deeply. Sometimes he would peak into the room, and the man’s normally