“I crawled from the pit, my body broken, bloody, and all I could think of is what I’d do to you once I found you,” he says, through bloody, clenched teeth.
“I bet you didn’t think this was how it was going to go?” she says as she grabs the handle of the blade that sticks from his chest, and twists it.
If she expects him to die a quick painful death, she is wrong. So very wrong.
Instead he latches on to her legs, and before she can even comprehend what is happening, the ugly, obnoxious, ostentatious, serpentine chain that he constantly wears around his neck comes alive, and the reptile crawls up her body, hissing, leaving a trail of grey slime along her jeans and shirt, until it quickly wraps itself around her neck. “What the hell is…” Her words get cut off by the rapid tightening of the beast around her neck. She can’t breathe, her eyes burn up and threaten to pop, while her brain screams at the unbearable heat and starts clogging up. She cannot feel her bladder give up or the saliva drip from her gaping mouth.
The last thing she hears is his raspy voice coming out of that fork-tongued mouth. “You cannot steal from The Nag and live to tell the tale, bitch.”
Note: Nag means Cobra in Hindi.
Written in response to the In The Style Of challenge.
Inspired by the works of Matthew Tonks, whose mind is an amazing labyrinth, and expanding upon the start of LAMENTATION.
Image from shopclues.com