Chapter Text
“I am not a cannibal… I am not a cannibal… I am not… I am not…” She said piously, both as a form of struggle and to convince herself of it. My stomach was protesting; there's little that morality can restrain when you're starving.
The smell of the roast meat is intoxicating, inviting, seductive. She fights against the urge to eat, she is so hungry, so hungry… But she can’t… This is human flesh… She is almost certain, and it suffocates her… Maybe it isn’t… But knowing the sadist in front of her, she is sure that it is…
“Come on, Misery, eat… It’s been three days since your last meal… You shouldn’t be wasting time like this…” the sadistic overseer smiled. “You know the rules, little slave; if you don’t eat first, we won’t feed any of the other slaves. The decision is yours.” The fat man smiled, looking at her with disdain. She was such a pathetic figure in his eyes, sitting there weak on the floor, her stomach rumbling loudly, but her pride prevented her from eating. How could she still be so proud? She was nothing, and yet she still fought against the system. It would be fun to destroy that woman.
The other slaves shouted and shook the bars, they yelled insults at the woman, they were as hungry as she was, they were desperate and saw her refusal to eat as a personal attack on each of them. If she didn't eat, none of them would eat.
"EAT NOW, FUCK! WE'RE STARVING!" One of the slaves shouted angrily.
"You... You don't understand! This is human flesh... I can't, I simply can't... It's inconceivable for me to do this..." she tried to justify herself, but her voice was barely heard over the protests of everyone around her.
“TOO BAD FOR THOSE WHO DIED AND BECAME FOOD!! EAT QUICKLY, WRETCH, IF WE GO HUNGRY BECAUSE OF YOU AGAIN I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'LL DO WITH YOU.” Another voice rose from the chorus, threatening the poor woman. None of them felt pity, none had empathy. They all just wanted her to stop being dramatic and eat already.
The meat smelled good, there was enough food to feed 4 people thrown on the ground for her to eat, it was more than any of the slaves would receive, they hated her for it, she could barely eat it all, but she was forced to, she would go two or three days without food, and on the day she could eat she was forced to binge, she had to eat so much that she would get sick, it was not allowed to waste food, if she vomited she would be forced to eat again what she had just expelled. This had been her reality for months, but even so she couldn't get used to it.
“Come on, Misery... This is your last chance.” The executioner said, kicking her leg, making her scream.
From all sides, she was pressured to do it. Her own mind tried to make her accept. – You're not sure if this is human flesh... It could be of animal origin, it must be of animal origin... He wouldn't waste peculiar meat on you, he would give it to the Hollows... You're not that important... – but soon her mind would refuse again. – NO, THIS IS DEFINITELY HUMAN, WHEN YOU EAT IT YOU WILL BECOME LIKE HIM, DON'T EAT IT, YOU CAN HANDLE IT. –
People were shouting from all sides, it was a chorus of endless insults, terrible threats, and some pleas.
“Please eat! My little son will starve to death if he doesn't eat today... Please, please eat!” a woman's voice cried and begged amidst the growing hatred.
Misery trembled, she was starting to cry, she knew it wasn't a lie, that several children were hungry in the overcrowded cells next door, all those people were hungry and they all depended on her for food that day. Her refusal could indirectly take the lives of so many...
When the executioner Wight signaled to collect the food from the floor, she reacted.
"No! I'm going to eat..." she finally gave in, feeling a part of her spirit screaming in agony. The other slaves shouted in relief and joy. The man smiled at her, and withdrew the order, he sat in a chair and just waited, as usual he would watch her eat everything from beginning to end. The scene is utterly pathetic; she's at his feet, eating off the floor like an animal. The meat is covered in dust and dirt, but it's clear that this no longer bothers her. She started slowly, with disgust and fear, but gradually began to eat faster. She was hungry, very hungry, eating with the willpower of someone who knows their next meal is in three days. As usual, this voracious appetite soon passes, and she's forcing herself to eat; it's too much food for her. But that's the beauty of it. He loves to see her forcing herself to swallow, loves to see her clearly in stomach pain, firmly controlling herself to avoid vomiting. He loves when he notices she needs to relieve herself. She doesn't even dare ask permission anymore, because she knows he won't allow it yet, and if she can't hold it in and does it anyway, she'll be whipped. She's already learned this lesson. Every aspect of her life belongs to the master. He does nothing with her without the permission of her reborn God of Abaton.
Misery is forcing herself to continue; the small voice in her brain that fought against the urge to eat that meal has now fallen silent in indignation. She is ashamed of being like this, but there is nothing to be done; this is her fate now. Her terrible new reality... Slaves have no rights, and she is not as privileged as others think. Every now and then she feels a small stone in her mouth, tastes the dust mixed with the meat; it is so humiliating to eat off the ground, but it is the only way to eat in that place. She forgot long ago what dignity was.
With each bite, she felt the urge to stop, to vomit, to expel that excess food. But that would bring another punishment; the overeating was already too bad, and she tried her best to avoid it. Her stomach was obscenely rigid and full, her rags now clung to her body, even breathing was difficult. She had to resist the urge to unbutton her clothes; she had nothing under the worn and torn dress she wore. She couldn't do what she wanted; it would be seen as an invitation, and once again she would be abused.
It took four hours for her to finish eating everything, and the other slaves were finally fed. Murnau, her executioner, finally left, leaving her there, lying on the floor, her stomach overflowing and aching. She could barely breathe; now she could only hear the sounds of delight as the others enjoyed the meal.
Murnau was a demon; he left her cell door open again. It wasn't with the intention of her escaping—that would be ridiculous. She can barely stand in her current state. It's just an opportunity; any jailer or slave could invade her space and do whatever they wanted. She's there, in pain, completely defenseless, a defeated and exhausted prisoner, just waiting for the next torture and humiliation.
Trying to distract herself from her defenseless and vulnerable situation, she began to do what comforts her most lately: she started to imagine that she's not there, that she's in a comfortable bed, wearing a nightgown, that she's fine and just resting after a long day, that she only hears the birds singing and the breeze... Eating so much makes her so tired... so exhausted... She didn't even realize she was dozing off.
And then she returns to the day everything changed, the day her reality crumbled, the same old nightmare. She woke up screaming and crying, which the other enslaved people didn't even pay attention to; for them, it was normal, and most of them hated her.
She cried while her heart threatened to break her ribs, the last words of her nightmare still echoing in her head.
“You are an object, a pose, a thing, my slave. Slaves don't need names, surnames, or a past; only the present exists. But I won't make things so confusing. I need to call you something. You are now Misery. Everyone must call you that. If they dare to call you what you once were, they will be punished. Do you like your new name?”
No one dared call her by her real name again after that; that cruel nickname was a form of humiliation... It was a cruel irony, after all, she really was nothing more than a wretch... Sometimes she caught herself whispering her old name, perhaps in an attempt not to forget it, who she was. This usually calmed her, gave her a certain comfort in remembering herself. She missed being that person. She missed her old life, which now seemed like just a happy illusion... She was so happy and didn't even realize it... Now she is Misery, but before that, she was Alma.
“Alma... Alma Peregrine,” she whispered softly. – never forget who you are... –