/n: 1/15/13 I'm a little rusty guys, but here we go. It's pretty short, but then it's a drabble so…and it's kind of all over since I did it off the top again.

Hybristophilia Sexually aroused by people who have committed crimes, particularly brutal ones. Ramsay/Theon. Modern. AU.

Theon let the television's static wash over him, abandoning the small cup of coffee he was bringing to his lips.

"Goddamit. The tv's at it again." He listened to the clerk bang on the set for a moment before rising, leaving the tip on the table before heading to the counter.

"It's a damn shame, isn't it?" the clerk says as Theon hands over the cash. Distracted, he glances up as the man gestures at the warped television screen, displaying a quivering headline detailing the latest disappearances and the string of reappearing bodies in various mutilated states along the river. "I hope they capture whoever this sick bastard is."

Theon nods in disinterested agreement, his hands quivering as he looks more closely at the set, as the announcer warns the viewers that what they're seeing may be considered graphic.

They've of course chosen the least gruesome of the Dreadfort Slasher's work, but he still feels a shiver run down his spine when he catches a glimpse of the grainy photographs.

"….I hope he gets twice what he did to those poor women." Theon hears the voice fade in again, and realizes he had been staring harder than he'd meant to. Throat thick, he only gives a fumbling nod, before abandoning the counter and heading towards his car.

…..

It is an impossibly long drive.

…..

When he gets home, he sees a note on the kitchen counter. His mouth twitches slightly, as he, with trembling hands takes it. Breath quickened, he goes about the kitchen, set on preparing dinner.

Onions.

Carrots.

Broth.

A knife to cut the vegetables.

The only thing missing is…

For a second he only sits there, fists gripping against the counter. He has been working down there all day.

….

Slowly, he rises and makes his way down towards the basement.

….

When he opens the door, Ramsay turns to him, that ever sure smile upon his face.

"I needed to get the meat out of the freezer." Theon hears himself say as if from far away.

The floor is slick and warm as he steps further in, and Ramsay gives a soft chuckle at his dazed appearance.

His face is splattered in red, and blood drenches his arms up to his elbows. The air is thick with it.

Theon's mouth fills with saliva and he falls to his knees as Ramsay approaches him.