Day 1: Dinner Time!

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Hello! I've made a full recovery, and I'm hoping to participate in Goretober. I'm a little behind, I'm sorry about that, but I hope to catch up by the end of the month.

I'm not actually sitting down and spending days and days on these, I'm just whipping them out in a few hours, so I'm sorry if they're not too great! Maybe after the challenge is done I'll fix them up a little, or add a bit more to them. Either way, thanks for reading! xoxo -Cowboy


The feeling was.... sick. Your wrists ached, and you had no feeling in the tips of your fingers. It was hard to force your eyes to open, but they finally did and you were sure that they weren't naturally stuck like that. But you shouldn't dwell on that.
Now that your eyes are open, you look around and you're disappointed. Nothing gave away where you were, there was a wooden table off to the left side, and other than that the room was painfully bare. Trying to yell was fruitless, your throat was bare and the strain hurt more than you'd like to admit. It felt like forever before you heard footsteps. You had taken advantage of the long wait between interaction and closed your eyes again, so the sudden noise made your eyes snap open. A weak croak came from you as you turned your head- craning to see who had you trapped in this abysmal state. Only when he rounded the chair and stood in front of you could you see him.

He was tall, that was for sure. Looming over the chair slightly, red hair vibrant from the back-lighting. His black clothing looked ironed and he gave off a slightly sophisticated but smug vibe. A grin crawled over his face. You try and croak out again, a measly little noise managing to slip out.
The man, whoever he was, laughed.
"Ah. Looks like you need a drink, hm?" He reaches for the table and you don't remember it being set before. Once you recognized what was on it, though, you gagged. Entrails, slabs of meat with the clearly human flesh still on one side. There was so much more, but you didn't want to register what it was, you blocked it out and quickly turned your head to the other side. A heave wracked your chest. You could hear him chuckle lowly.
Soon he was standing in front of you again, a ceramic glass in his hand. You didn't want it, not at all.
Leaning forward, he brought it to your lips and tipped it forward just a bit so the liquid could touch your lips.

It was warm and viscous. A shudder ripped through you and you whipped your head to the side. The man let a bit of the liquid spill on you, and when you looked it was red. Blood red.

You were too busy looking in horror at the stain to notice when he gripped your face by the jaw and squeezed with an absolutely painful force. You had no choice but to cry out, and that's when he brought the glass to your lips again and tipping it so that it rushed into your mouth. Iron flooded your tastebuds, and you had no choice but to swallow or choke. It kept coming, and you unfortunately kept swallowing until it was all down. Save for a rivulet or two dripping down your chin that couldn't be saved, which the man rubbed his thumb across, smearing across your skin. "There, now you should be refreshed. You really should be thanking me, you know."

You of course did nothing of the sort. Instead, you spit at him. It landed on his cheek, and you could see the red tint in the saliva. His eyes flared red and you almost couldn't believe you saw it.
"You'll regret that. Spitting on me," He mumbles out the last part as he turns to the table again, and gathers up something on a plate. He turns back to you and you can feel the dread weigh you down. It was piled in human gore, along with only god knows what.
"Do you know who I am, human?" He asks as he comes close, taking the fork in his hand and pushing a few things on the plate around. "Hmm... I'll give you a guess." He brings a rubbery looking organ up to your mouth, and you refuse. A sneer crossed his face and he made a quick jab at your face with the fork in hand. It didn't register at first, but then pain blossomed through your bottom lip and you screamed out. The fork- with the mystery organ- had pierced through your lip. Once your mouth was open, he took the chance to shove the fork in, regardless of what in your mouth he stabs. "No guesses? Try Cain." He laughs, watching you gag and struggle with the texture in your mouth. Cain forced your mouth closed, pinching your nose shut and watching you hurry to try and get it down. Your throat burned with vomit, but you swallowed forcefully. It went on like this for an hour before you accepted it and let him feed you.

It wasn't but an hour after you were choking on whole entrails being stuffed down your throat that you felt yourself fading. Cain could see it, too. You couldn't take much more. Your hands had totally lost feeling, there was blood and various bodily fluids down the front of your shirt and your head was tilted back like it was too heavy. You could only groan, and your eyes were beginning to flutter. Everything you could still feel was heavy, and Cain was the only thing you could focus on. He held another plate in his hands piled high with tongues, somehow still wet. It was awful. They were rubbery, tasted like someone else's spit. That was when you told yourself that was it. You closed your eyes, and didn't open your mouth anymore. You could hear Cain speaking to you, but it was too far away. You were drifting away now, off into something more... pleasant.

The last thing you heard was the a plate being set down on the table, and the sound of Cain walking away.

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