The alarm sounded. Not the one that told him to place his hands on the wall and spread his feet, the one that usually heralded at least a sound beating and never less than incapacitation via stun batons. They would take him away to stick him with needles and cut him open, take their notes, and put him right back in this cell until next time. He wished it were that alarm.
Instead, the only thing that happened with this alarm was the door at the other end of his stark white cell quietly sliding open. He walked toward it, dreading what he might find, but willing himself forward regardless. Despite himself, Malcom started to drool, his stomach aching painfully. Last week had left him wary. It had been an ancient, frail woman in a white, wheeled bed, doubtlessly taken from some care center or hospital. He had been outraged. It was the first time he had ever refused a meal provided by his masters (all the previous ones had been warring death row jump suits, the scraps of humanity). It was also the first time he’d ever been determined enough to resist his monstrous appetite. But that was a week ago, and he didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to resist anything now.
Shaking with a grotesque combination of trepidation and anticipation, he entered the feeding chamber. His heart sunk when he saw the little girl. He started to sob as he felt his fangs and claws extend, the freak inside sensing the imminent kill.
He knew they were watching, though, with notepads or popcorn in hand he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, he was THEIR freak.
He came to stand directly behind her. She stopped humming to herself and turned curiously to look up at him.
As soon as they locked eyes, Malcolm froze, unable to move. The girl’s abyssal eye sockets seemed to swallow all light in the room. Her mouth opened to reveal thin, jagged teeth in a grin that stretched too wide. A thick, crimson fluid burst from Malcolm’s lips, coating the creature before him in red bile as his insides devoured themselves. The creature grew, thin and towering over him as his bones became brittle and snapped, one by one.
As he lay in a tattered heap on the floor, the demon coming low, maw open, he realized that HE was the scraps now.
And he was happy.