A Dissection of the Heart

Show Time part 2

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

Speciale stood and walked over to them, holding his notebook. He turned the pages for a moment before stopping at his questions. He cleared his throat and began, “Sumiyoshikai no ryōdo de nani o shite imashita ka?” (What were you doing in Sumiyoshi-kai territory?)

Yamato breathed heavily, eyes darting between his two captors. Suddenly Rosalind’s gentle caress turned painful as she grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head back. “Tomodachi no masamuri-san kara shitsumon ga atta to omoimasu. Hitobito ga anata ni hanashikakeru toki ni mushi suru no wa shitsureida to omoimasen ka?” (I believe my friend asked you a question, Mr. Masamuri. Don't you know it's rude to ignore people when they speak to you?) She pouted her full, red lips at him for a moment. Yamato took a quick breath before spitting his blood tinged saliva at her. Rosalind blinked at him, chuckling darkly. “Watashi wa anata ni kantan'na koto o shiyou to shinakatta to wa iemasen.” (Can't say I didn't try to give you an easy out.)

She straightened, motioning for Speciale to go sit back down. “Eeny, meeny, miny…” Rosalind pointed happily to instrument after instrument before stopping at the shiny, silver scalpel, “Moe!” Ever so gently, she lifted the blade to the light, eyeing Yamato’s face who seemed to pale at the sight of his imminent future. “Shinpaishinaide kudasai. Watashi wa mesu o nagaku tsukaimasen.” (Don't worry. I won't use the scalpel for long.) She said with a wicked smile.

Leaning down to his right arm, she began her dark work. The blade glided effortlessly through the blistered, mangled flesh. She cut a semicircle around his exposed skin, frowning when she couldn’t reach his underside due to the restraints. She pursed her lips, wondering if the satisfaction of a clean degloving would be worth the hassle of fighting his freed arm. She looked over to Speciale, disappointed. “I’m going to have to skin him like some deer if I can’t reach under.” He shrugged, “You can try loosening his arm restraints, if he struggles it’ll just rip the skin off faster right?”

She nodded and smirked down at her victim. “Masamuri-san, ude o hanashimasu ne. Shikashi, watashi ga anatanara, watashi wa kurō shimasen.” (Mr. Masamuri, I'm going to let your arm go, okay? But I wouldn't struggle if I were you.) Without waiting for a response, she started loosening the straps tying his arm to the table. Almost immediately, he swung out to slap her across the face, splashing droplets of blood from his fingertips across her cheek. To his surprise, she didn’t react violently back at him. She just began laughing, the curls framing her face bouncing in time with her shoulders.

With one hand, she easily grabbed his hand, yanking his arm into the air. He sucked in a breath, pain hitting him as blood trickled out of the incision widening on his upper arm as Rosalind skillfully drug her scalpel around the curve of his arm, loosening and cutting away at the top ring of skin. Dropping his arm with a thud, she turned to lay the scalpel down on the table. She picked up a twin set of shiny metal clamps. “He certainly fu.cked himself with that move, eh?” She said absentmindedly to Speciale who laughed in response, sitting back and enjoying the show.

She leaned over the torture table, pressing his tender, bleeding arm back onto the cold steel with her chest. With one long, manicured nail she dug into the incision. Yamato screamed and tried fighting her off but a weakened, damaged man is nothing against the purposeful dead weight of his tormentor. Rosalind relished the squelching as she dug farther in, creating a space between his layer of skin and the raw flesh beneath. She took her clamps, fastening them on the loosened skin around his bicep.

Oh so carefully, she folded the ring of skin back around his limp arm to help it glide off easier. Taking the clamps in hand, she began to pull them back towards his hand, pulling his skin down and exposing the red muscle underneath. She alternated her pace starting agonizingly slow but interspersing quick jolts of movement, rewarding her with a fresh spray of hot, red blood. Too soon for her taste, she noticed Yamato fading from consciousness. I’m not even past his elbow yet! She released the clamps, tsking his sleeping form as she grabbed a pill shaped object from the case beside her.

Leaning over his torso, she positioned the pill under his nostrils and broke it with a loud snap. Within a few seconds, Yamato was shocked awake. She tossed the smelling salts aside, having no longer needing them. His breathing was erratic as he choked on the burning in his nasal passages and his pain. “Now then, shall we continue?” She asked no one in particular, taking up the clamps once more and yanking them down over his elbow earning her a strangled scream from his throat.

Rosalind began humming to herself as she pulled and pried the skin from his flesh, punctuating her verses with bloody screams. She braced her heels on the concrete floor, now slick with his pouring blood, for one last great PULL. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiip. Just like that, the skin flew from his fingertips, leaving her holding a long glove made of human leather. She laughed, stumbling slightly from the release of pressure as it popped off. “Sorera no shitsumon o mōichido tamesu junbi wa dekite imasu ka?” (You ready to try those questions again?) She asked him gleefully as she hung his dripping skin over his face as he sobbed and screamed, his arm shaking from the pain.

“Jigoku ni iku kanojo - akuma,” (Go to hell she-demon.) he managed between sobs. “You heard the man, Special, go get another kettle,” Rosalind said, frowning down at the man as she refastened his arm into the restraints. Speciale whistled a cheerful tune as he fetched two kettles of boiling water, handing one to Rosalind.