Pretty

Oh… it hurts. I-I never thought… never would have thought… n-not this bad. But I must endure; endure f-for Master’s sake.

Legato was gritting his teeth together so hard his jaws were aching. Sweat dripped from his temples, slowly with his jerky writhing on the cold steel floor, and it slightly stung when it seeped into his eyes. He felt dirty; his own perspiration stuck to him as a slick, second skin. Why so much pain for something so simple? And how could he have imagined screaming! No, this task had to be suffered because it was imperative in order to show his devotion. Yes, devotion.

Everything counted on this. Everything counted on how he reacted to this. It would only be a while longer. Not too long now.

Footsteps echoed; Knives was coming.

Please. My… my arm. Gone. S-severed. Master, please.

It lay on the floor beside him. Blood pooled and wouldn’t stop flowing. Half of his face was soaked in it, pressed hard against the floor. Soon, very soon, he would bleed to death. Legato saw bone and muscle and tendon and other things he knew he shouldn’t see.

And then he looked upward, trembling. He saw his master’s thin face twisted with a delighted smile.

Things… aren’t as pretty on the inside.