The small boy straightened his rounded spectacles as he stepped out of his jeep. The engine purred softly as he closed the door. He looked around him, making sure it was deserted, then stepped into the virgin forests.
His footsteps were light. His soft hands reached into his school vest and took out a small jar. He shook it gingerly. Then he went on, skipping into the heart of the forest.
Finally. The center. A clearing was made just for her. He remembered vaguely the many nights he crept out of bed with his father's chainsaw to clear away the stubborn trees. His hands still felt numb with all the sawing. But it didn't matter. Her torment would make up for his pains.
In the middle of the rounded clearing, where the surrounding trees seemed to make a second prison, a tiny cage lay quietly. Inside the rusting cage, a naked girl of twenty-three crouched. Her arms were flung around her knees, her chin tucked into her neck. The cage gave little space for any movement. The boy stood in the shadows for a while, savoring the fruits of his labor. The girl's hair was a mess. It hung loosely around her face. She was shivering. Ah yes, it had rained last night. Her lips were purple and her eyes were bloodshot, those beautiful almond eyes. Oh, what a pity now that it had been reduced to mindless orbs that darted about the socket for any sign of movement. How long has it been? Two weeks? Three? The boy had lost count. It was most pleasurable for the boy to see her suffer. To be kept in this tiny prison, to be denied the simplest pleasure of stretching the limbs. Oh, how wonderful the boy felt when the first days crept by. It was better even, than mathematics, to see her moan as she made her futile attempts to move her constricted legs. The little boy rubbed his hands together as he remembered torturing his victim. Oh, how sexy her shrieks sounded when he stuck the glowing poker into her ear. He remembered with a smile, how the girl had tried to jerk her head away, trying to escape the rod. The boy giggled as he saw the charred left ear sticking out of her blonde hair.
He stepped out of the shadows and coughed. The girl immediately screamed. She screamed and her limps shook. The cage was shaking. Amusing. The boy placed the jar in front of the cage, and he waited patiently for the girl to register the contents. A second passed. Two seconds passed. Then the girl's eyes widened and she began to scream again. This time the screams were coated with fear and anxiety. Her hands tried to move against the tiny metallic bars, her legs tried to kick them. Failing, she bit into her bottom lip as she moaned pitifully of what was to happen to her in a short while. The boy stared as he squatted in front of her, his head resting on his palms.
Inside the jar, thousands upon thousands of fire ants crawled over each other, their jaws snapping; seeking something to slice, something to shred. The red mass swirled and swirled inside the jar while the girl's scream slowing reached a crescendo.
The boy took a piece of bacon from his pocket and flung it at the chest of the girl. She screamed and tried to throw it out. Her eyes were wild, her mouth a perfect O. Tears were flowing and her chest heaved against her thighs. Oh, how jolly. The boy unwind the jar's top, and poured the ants over the cage. Then he turned around and skipped away. Humming to the tune of Mary Poppins.
Such a fate should be considered lenient, seeing what she did to him. She, his mathematics teacher who did not give him his rightful marks. And because of what? Failing to round off to the second decimal place? How dare she. It is because of her that his perfect mark is ruined. The boy snarled as he entered his jeep. "A 98 for a quiz? No amount of your crying will ease me." His fingers drummed the wheel for a moment, and then he flicked the radio on to drown out the echos of the girl's maddened cries. "Oh well. I'll collect her bones tomorrow." And he drove off home.