18 years ago, college student Matthew Shepard was robbed, tied to a fence post, and beaten to death because he was gay. He was a beautiful soul who never got the chance to live up to his potential. Never forget him.
0~ I’ll tell you three of my favorites, how about that? ~0
0~ Firstly, I enjoy playing games. You may not have known, but I really, really do. One of my favorites to play with the little owl was hide and seek. Depending on how well he hid depended on what happened to him, and I always found him. Sometimes what happened dealt with shocking him, peeling some of his skin away, all very vanilla things I assure you. ~0
0~ But one round, he thought he outsmarted me. I couldn’t find him for hours, I’ll admit, but his mistake was sighing and moving around in that dumbwaiter. I couldn’t have him thinking he was off the hook, now could I? Would you believe that the dumbwaiter shaft is directly connected to the furnace room? And this particular dumbwaiter was made of very thick steel. So I tied the handle of the door down, and turned up the heat. Now as you know metal can hurt quite a bit once heated up to a certain temperature, not to mention the temperature inside the box reaching sweltering degrees. ~0
0~ Which, as you may know, is something the little owl can’t handle very well. But it was a needed punishment, and his screams and begging for release went unheard until he stopped. ~0
0~ The next actually happens right after that story. To help heal him I put him in an ice bath. Which immediately woke him up. I wasn’t going to let him out and kept pushing him back. I told him he needed to apologize for thinking he was smarter than I before I let him out.
0~ I do so hate stuttering, and as he apologized that was all he did. So I pushed his head underwater until he could say it without a single stutter. It took a few times, and he nearly passed out again from when I held him under for a while, but he did it. ~0
0~ To complete this tale, I will say dinner was very eventful. Since I was looking after him in place of my colleague, he struggled a bit more when I tried to feed him his dinner. It often disagrees with him, but he needed to be fed. A growing troll needs food you know. I had to strap him down and put a tube up his nose to pour the food in to get him to ‘eat’ anything. It was simple things like milk, raw eggs, oysters, things that should’ve been very easy to deal with. ~0
0~ But apparently not, all I got for my hard work was nights of nosebleeds, vomiting with the occasional blood, and a small thing with a sore throat who couldn’t stand for more than a minute without fainting. ~0
0~ You know what? I’ll give you a small bonus, since you asked so nicely. ~0
0~ I had convinced his caretaker to make a mark on him, a mark that he would never forget. After all the usual pleasantries-whipping, beating, feeding-we went through with it. ~0
0~ I raked my nails down his back, reveling in the screams and wriggling as his scum blood welled and dripped down his back. His cries echoed off the walls into a beautiful symphony. The rope burns on his wrists reopened and staining the once white rope with more of his low disgusting blood. ~0
0~ And when my colleague brought the brand to his skin oh the screams and the smell of burning flesh were music to my senses. It’s such a shame he blacked out as well. We were hoping to have a bit more fun, but apparently it wasn’t in the cards. ~0
0~ I hope that gave you an idea of the fun times we went through. ~0
