Starved Beast. Part 1

She was scared.

I could see it in her eyes. They were frozen and still and they stared at me like the shudder of silence.

But it wasn't just fear. There was something else. More. She was petrified.

"Stay ... stay away," she stammered, shrinking back into the darkness, her arms outstretched and her fingers exploring frantically for the crevices in the wall. "D ... don ... don't come any closer!"

The involuntary wobble of her jaw echoed through her shoulders towards her flattened breasts and belly, and then a gentle roll of her midriff and a shake of her hips whacked her fear down her legs to her feet.

Have you ever seen a bitch that's afraid? One that's shitting and crapping in her pants? If so, you'll know. This one was scared.

"Please!" she screeched. "Don't touch me!"

Her high-pitched squeals came as putty to my sad, decaying ears.

Who was she, I wondered, this troubled, colorful delusion? And why had she gate crashed so abruptly int