Page 19 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

9

SID

The house smells of her.

Walking into my room, I flick the light on to find the sheets are a mess, tainted in love that never was. Aggressively, I throw them off the bed and race to the back patio door, tossing the evil energy outside, yelling, “Bitch be gone!” Damn that feels good.

Who needs therapy when you have this?

Smelling the evening mountain air, I decide I need, I crave, and deserve a night of cleansing. Pulling up the number to one of the local dealers, Winston, whose daddy farms some of our product locally for us, in the middle of his corn fields. But tonight Ineedsomething a little bit more numbing, freeing. Powder.

“Baby Sin, what do I owe the pleasure?” His deep husky voice sends chills down my spine. If I suddenly was into dick, he would be the first one I’d let in.

“I need some powder and a little bit of that grass yourdaddy grows. Can you bring some over, Whinny?” I play cute to get my way, even if I know he would bend to my will regardless.

Chuckling at my antics, he responds, “I gotchu babe. Be there in a few.”

Once he hangs up, I message the gate guards.

Boss Bitch

Let Winston in once he arrives. Tell him to come to my office. Thanks!

The reply is immediate.

Fortress Protectors

As you wish, Ms. Sid.

Feet padup the dark wood floor staircase, leading me to the old master suite which I converted into my office. Flicking the switch, the beauty of my dark soul looks back at me. Like the rest of my home, the eclectic decor brings me almost as much pleasure as killing and my pigs. Mason jars of hearts, lungs, eyes, and brains submerged in some sort of clear liquid line the large wallof black shelves. Mom gave me these as a Christmas gift one year, all saved from my first kill.

Mixed between them are melted white wax candles, human skulls and framed retired antique tools from Mom’s coveted collection. This room is full of sentimental memories and comfort. It’s exactly where I need to be tonight.

The ceiling is decorated in torn black wallpaper exposing some of the cream paint beneath, adding depth to the space, and a vintage bronzed and crystal domed empire chandelier provides some light.

Thin, delicate fabrics drape from the walls, dark burgundies, blacks, and creams. In a couple of places, long, wide, gold-molded mirrors lean against the fabric. In here I am cut off from the outside world with the windows blocked. And it all makes me feel oddly safe. It’s only me in here alone.

Before taking a seat on the couch, I pull my dress down and off my body, letting it fall at my feet. Stepping out of the fabric, I walk into the attached bathroom and throw on my black silk robe which hangs just above my knees. Tying it in a bow at my waist, I spin around and take in my appearance, the blood splatter and mascara stains remain. Throwing my hair into a high ponytail, I rummage through my drawers until I find what I need. Painting glitter glue under my eyes and overtop of my stained cheeks, my idea takes shape. Next I find my pixie dust. With just my fingertip I start placing it on top of the tacky glue. I work itall the way down to the corner of my lips where my lipstick is stained and smudged. At the same time I smirk to myself in the mirror, I hear the front door open.

“Up here,” I shout to no response other than heavy feet coming up the stairs. My mind sobers from the chaotic thoughts. If it were Winston, why not announce himself?

Slowly I peek out of the bathroom entrance, my body jumps as a tall, broad-shouldered motherfucker wearing a cowboy hat and flannel shirt is smiling back at me. My glitter is everywhere from flying out of my hand.

Winston.

Slapping his chest, I yell, “You motherfucker!”

He erupts in laughter, thinking he’s so fucking hilarious.

Slapping his chest, “Har har. Nearly gave me a stroke.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby Sin. But, dang, don’t you look all cute and mad anyways.” he teases playfully, placing his hand over mine, which hasn’t moved off him.

Winston is in his thirties and a classic fuckboy. He can look at a girl and her panties just melt away. Except for mine. His charm is cute, and Whinny is really hot, but my pussy doesn’t ache for him.

Pulling back, crossing my arms over my chest, I pout, still sad about my glitter bomb of an explosion. “Did you bring it all?”

He winks. “Of course, boss lady. I’ll always take care of you.”

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