My bow drifts over the thick strings, and my music plays louder. The melody of Fur Elise plays a gentle harmony with the cries. My job may be sickening to you, but to me, it warms my heart.
Have you ever been on the deep web? Is it frightening? When He approached me with His offer, I was frightened. Frightened for sure! But He was charming, and kind, and soon enough, I had a gig. A red room had messaged me during a nearly empty stream, gave me a set of coordinates to where the job was, and asked for certain music. It was a light melody, and I had a few weeks to practice before I played. He said He couldn’t come, but I managed to convince Him.
I practiced so roughly, I broke off a few bow hairs! I never practiced that hard, but I knew that if I played well, and made the red room man happy, I would get another gig. The first job was when I developed a taste. I never felt sick from what I saw, I just looked carefully at the music, being sure not to trip up. The stream count climbed to 100, the director announced. I rested myself, setting the viola in its case so I could get a few sips of water and one of the cupcakes in my lunch bag. I carefully spectacled the frightful torture session before me, His hand around mine.
“You alright?” He asked, His eyes glinting a bit as if He were delighted by the sight of fresh blood.
“The whole gore thing isn’t too great for me,” I replied. “It just.. isn’t humane. He’s not even killing her. Just cutting her up.”
“Yeah, it isn’t too elegant, but 10k in cash? Isn’t it worth it?”
I picked up my viola and walked to the stand, my dress floating on my knees. I called out to see the stream count. 387!
“They’re here for you.”
I danced gently as the red room man tore muscle and cracked bone. Screams and sobs harmonized with my A string, and my feet barely graced the ground, my dress floated with each stab, and He smiled at me as my body moved with the viscera. When all was concluded, I stood silently.
Maybe I was as crazy as they said, but I loved it. I wasn’t insane, and I can’t hear voices and I have no aspiration to kill. My love is that of the raw death. My love is of Him, and he saved me.
Now I perform for masters of their arts. I dance to their beat. With every cut, every bite, my feet drift from the ground. My performances, the glissando and staccato played from songs I write for the craftsmen, echo with my joy.
He says that they only come for me, but as I fasten Him to the chair, and I hold my viola for my last show, I know they came for Him. And when my kiss graces His lips, wrapping Him in his own warm blood and digestive tract, He smiles at me just a bit.
This is the music I play.