ℂ𝕒𝕜𝕖
a/n: this is just a little something i wanted to post for spooky season. yes it’s inspired by melanie martinez’s song cake
TW: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of self harm, gore, kidnapping, toxic relationship, murder
————————————————————————
“Your skin is warm like an oven
Your kiss is sugary sweet
Your fingers feel like cotton
When you put your arms around me
I feel like I'm just missing
Something whenever you leave
We've got all the ingredients
Except you loving me”
The speaker vibrates as the song progresses, filling the room enough to shake Isla’s core.
“AND RESPECTFULLY I’M NOT A PIECE OF CAKE FOR YOU TO JUST DISCARD, WHILE YOU WALK A-WAY WITH THE FROSTING OF MY HEART! SO I’M TAKING BACK WHAT’S MINE YOU’LL MISS. THE SLICE OF HEAVEN THAT I GAVE TO YOU LAST NIGHT!” she belts out as she slices the onions. Eyes begin to water from the strong odor emitting from the vegetable.
“I really love this song. It reminds me of us, how you were so good at pretending to care,” she laughs breathlessly, “how you made me believe you loved me when you’d wipe away my tears and hold me as I cried.” Her hands tightened around the knife in her hand. She can’t cry, not here, not now.
“But of course, nothing ever lasts right? Because according to you, I’m a liar, I’m over dramatic, but whenever you showed up to class drunk it wasn’t self-harm, but if I were to slice my wrist, even just a tiny little cut, you’d be furious, right? According to you I never truly cared, yet all I was to you was a broken person you thought you could fix. My mistake for not showing you I wasn’t just broken, no I was shattered beyond repair, damn near dust,” she slides the onions into the olla. (pot/pan) She proceeds to grab the can of hominy and stabs the top to peel back the circular metal lid. Then hominy is dumped into the olla along with some basil leaves.
“Fuck, I really thought ‘Hey, there’s no way she could break my heart, she can’t. Because even if we break up we’ll still be friends’, that’s how much I loved you,” she says as she starts cutting the carne, “Notice how I said ‘loveD’. You fucked up cariño. That night, after like 2 weeks of you saying you didn’t know what you wanted to do, your wish was finally granted. When I had asked ‘Do you want to break up?’ you said ‘I don’t know’, so we broke up, because if you truly wanted to be in a relationship with me you would’ve said no. But then you said ‘You know I can’t be the one to do it’. You forced my hand, YOU made me break us up because you were too pussy to do so yourself! Fuck you for that. Yet I couldn’t get angry, I couldn’t be angry. Why? Because if I was I would’ve been the monster, I would’ve been the villain you tried so hard to lay me out to be. You kept telling me ‘Yell at me, be mad at me’. Finding any and every reason for me to become the monster you knew I didn’t want to become. You knew how I felt about my anger, I’ve worked so hard to get to where I was. And you kept telling me to stop telling our friends you forced my hand when you clearly did. Then I couldn’t even get over it cause you were constantly pulling shit from your ass and kept seeking attention from me. Why? ‘I like the way you look at me’ is what you said. But holy fuck, all you did was make it harder for me to forgive you. You kept saying I was being a bad friend. Well, you were a bad girlfriend. But like Melanie says, ‘If I’m just a piece of cake then you’re just a piece of meat to me’.”
She turns around to face the girl who once held her heart. She rushes to her side and holds her face, hands turning crimson from the wound on Carmen’s head. Isla checks the rope binding the girl to a wooden dining chair, she gives a light tug to be sure it’s secured. She looks back to the girl in the chair.
“Don’t fall asleep on me now Carmen, no no no. I’m making you dinner,” she coos, “I promise you’ll love it.”
Isla kisses her forehead, but the dull girl still has some spunk in her, “Y-you’re fucking psycho.”
“Oh baby, you already knew that. Just remember though,” Isla leans into Carmen’s ear, “you’re the one who brought it out.”
She proceeds to glare at Carmen, expression almost instantaneously changing to one of a happier tone, “Anyways. I’m going to make pozole, but the traditional way. What do you think?”
Carmen’s eyes widened, the only indication that she truly feared for her life. This caused the other girl to smile, she was in control of the situation.
The sound of a door creaking open causes both girls to turn and see a man walking in. Carmen sought this as an opportunity to try and seek help.
“Hey! Help me please, this crazy bitch has me tied up-” a rag was placed in her mouth and tied around her head to shut her up.
“Geez, shut the fuck up,” Isla sighs.
She proceeds to walk up to the man and kisses him in front of her ex, “Ay mi amor, you’re home.”
“What’s this?” he asks.
Isla smiles and starts to bounce on her heels, “Dinner! I wanted to do something special for you.”
A smile finds its way to his and his expression softens, “What’s for dinner?”
“Pozole,” she replies.
His smile widens and looks at the girl gagged and bound to one of the kitchen chairs. He walks up to her and gently slides his hand down the side of her cheek.
“You’re almost too pretty to eat,” he says softly, his voice however changing as he grips her chin harshly, “Pero has hecho daño mi corazon.”
Those are the last words Carmen hears, as Isla plunges the knife into the girl. Making sure to avoid important organs and arteries. She wants Carmen to watch as she carves out her heart. She wants her to feel the knife carving up her skin, she wants her to know how it feels to have your heart ripped from your chest. So that’s exactly what Isla did. And that night the pozole was the best it’s ever been, seasoned just right and the meat tender.
