A Dissection of the Heart

Show Time part 1

***TRIGGER WARNING: Chapter contains depictions of gore and violence, skip if that does not sit well with you.***

Rosalind flicked her sapphire eyes to meet Speciale’s hazel ones, nodding so slightly that if he wasn’t anticipating it the nod would have gone unnoticed. He lifted a hand to his ear where a head set was already sitting comfortably. “Kare o tsurete ki nasai.” (Bring him in.) It couldn’t have been more than a few moments before a side door was opened with a loud thud. Two large men in matching black suits came in, a slumped figure slung between them.

The poor subject of tonight’s show was already bruised and battered. His nose was obviously broken, twisted to the side in an ugly, swollen way. His left eye was bruised shut and there were trickles and splatters of blood both dark, oxidized brown and a fresh, vibrant red. The men roughly tossed his limp body onto the table and began tying down the straps starting from the legs. “Take off his shirt,” Rosalind commanded. The two men paused, staring at her blankly. She gave an annoyed eye roll, “Kirisuto no tame ni, kare no shatsu o nuide kudasai.” (Take off his shirt, for Christ sakes.) Rosalind made a mental note to speak mostly in Japanese from here on out as she crossed her arms across her chest and stood back to let the two brutes work.

Seeing a small opening, the man on the table swung his body to the man on his left in a weak attempt at a punch. The men shared a laugh as his fist glanced off the brick wall of a chest it came in contact with. The grunt reared back as the other grabbed the man’s arms behind him. “Tariru!” (Enough!) Rosalind pushed the man holding her subject’s arms away, very annoyed. “Anata ga kare no shatsu o taimurī ni nugu koto sae dekinainaraba, sorekara kōtai shite kudasai.” (If you cannot even take his shirt off in a timely manner then step back.) The two grunts shared a look before backing off with a smirk.

“Masamuri-san,” (Mr. Masamuri,) Rosalind began, locking him in a cold gaze as she stepped forward, “shatsu o nuide Sutorappu o shimemasu. Kyōryoku suru koto ga anata no saizen no riekidearu koto ga wakaru to omoimasu. Anata no unmei wa watashi no te ni arimasu.” (I'm going to remove your shirt and strap you down now. I think you'll find it's in your best interest to cooperate, your fate is in my hands.) The man, Yamato Masamuri, tried to meet her gaze with a glare of his own but she could see the hopelessness swimming in those deep brown depths and soon enough his eye dropped to his hands sitting numbly in his lap. Rosalind gave a wolfish grin as she stepped to him, taking a pair of scissors off the table by her case to cut his shirt off with.

She carelessly tossed the scraps of bloodied fabric to the ground, not bothering to give the two men who brought Yamato here a second glance. “Anata wa kaiko sa remashita.” (You're dismissed.) She heard the heavy footsteps retreat to the side door, closing it behind them with a metallic thud. With one manicured hand on his chest, Rosalind pushed Yamato back onto the table and finished strapping the rough leather ties down on his body.

“Masamuri-san, chūsei no gōmon hōhō o yoku shitte imasu ka?” (Do you know much about medieval torture methods, Mr. Masamuri?) Rosalind began, turning to her black leather case on the table beside her. Yamato said nothing, though she noted the heavy breathing indicating his fear despite the steely act he was trying to put on. He would drop that act soon, she knew. “Ankoku jidai to yoba rete imashitaga, aru kagaku ni totte wa hontōni kyōi-tekina jikideshita. Gōmon.” (You see, though it was called the Dark Ages, it was really an astounding time for one science. Torture.) She flicked open the locks, slowly easing the case open. Ah, my pretty little friends… She thought to herself as she ran a hand along a scalpel nestled into the foam inside the case. Just one of many toys protectively hugged in the contents of the case. Her eyes flew back to her guest of honor, a cold fire burning in their blue depths.

“Jukuren shita gōmon-sha wa, gisei-sha o tomezu ni nan'nichi mo iki tsudzukeru koto ga dekimasu.” (A skilled torturer could keep a victim alive for days without stop.) Yamato ground his teeth, trying to prepare himself. “Special, dear, bring me a kettle would you?” Rosalind asked sweetly, not looking away from the eye of her prey. Speciale got up and moved to the back wall, choosing a kettle at random and slowly made his way back to her, relishing the tension his delay created.

“Watashi no kojin-tekina okiniiri no 1tsu, kawahagi. Karera wa dekirudake ōku no hifu o mukizude hoshi garunode, sono setsuzoku kara sore o yurumenakereba naranaideshou.” (One of my personal favorites, flaying. They would want as much skin in tact as possible so they would have to loosen it from its connections.) Rosalind placed a hand to her cheek, eyes glittering with her giddiness as her lips turned up in a smile. “Anata ni totte zan'nen'nakotoni, soreha gisei-sha ga kawa o hagareru mae ni ikita mama futtō suru koto o imi shimasu.” (Unfortunately for you, that means the victim would be boiled alive before being skinned.)

Without warning, she took the kettle from Speciale and began pouring it up and down Yamato’s arm. Screams and the sound of rattling metal filled the room and reverberated off the walls around them as Yamato struggled under the scalding liquid. Only when she had emptied the kettle on his arm and hand did Rosalind hand it back to Speciale. “Refill that if you will,” She said, eyes still locked on Yamato’s struggling form. She turned to her case, with a sigh, “Orokana watashi, anata o kirei ni dasshi shitai nonara, watashi wa sorera no yakkaina yubi no tsume o torinozoku hitsuyō ga arimasu.” (Silly me, if I want to deglove you cleanly I'll need to get rid of those pesky fingernails.)

Plucking a set of pliers out of the case, Rosalind turned back to Yamato. “Mā, watashi wa ima sore o sewa suru koto ga dekimasu!” (Oh well, I can take care of that now!) She chirped pleasantly, setting the pliers around one nail. Yamato tried to struggle and pull back, grunting and wheezing as the already blistering flesh yanked at the restraints in futility. With a beaming smile, Rosalind gripped down on the pliers and quickly pulled back, the tender flesh hardly resisting her as fresh blood pooled in the new cavity she created. “This little piggy went to market,” she began, chucking the nail to the side before setting the pliers back on the next fingernail and pulling. Yamato screamed as the nail was ripped from his body. “This little piggy stayed home!”

She flicked the nail to Speciale with a giggle and set back at her work, her previous hesitation completely melted away as she fell back into her old life. Riiiiiiiiiip. “AAAAAHHHH!” Yamato screamed and pulled. “This little piggy had roast beef,” She continued, dropping the nail and set into the next nail without pause. Riiiiip. “This little piggy had none! And this little piggy…” She set the pliers against his thumbnail, grinning madly, “cried…” Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiip. “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Yamato teared up, breathing heavy through his nose now. “All the way home!” Rosalind giggled and tossed the pliers to the side, leaning down to Yamato’s face. She ran a hand gently across his cheek and into his hair.

“Kore ga dono kurai tsudzuku ka wa kanzen ni anata shidaidesu. Anata ga watashi no yūjin no shitsumon ni kotaereba, watashi wa subete no itami o torinozoki, watashitachiha tomeru koto ga dekimasu. Hai?” (How long this lasts depends entirely on you. If you answer my friend's questions, I'll make all the pain go away and we can stop. Okay?) She spoke softly, caressing the man’s face and hair.