Maria sat silently and watched in the distance as the 6 girls tore the men and women in the bowl apart with the same glee of a child torturing an insect. It was an almost unbelievable sight, to see these people who she loved and respected suddenly become so cruel; more so then the very people they were killing.

               The worst part of this entire mess was that above all other emotions the one she had in abundance was relief. A part of her was genuinely happy to see these people who she had no personal grudge against die; it only made her position stronger. She glanced over at the conspicuously placed camera. That footage will be her shield, a guarantee that none of these girls will ever break their silence.

               Another man cried out for Maria’s help, his eyes wide with fear as he reached for her in vain only to be silenced by Cynthia’s teeth bursting his head open like a grape. “I’m sorry I’m such a coward.” She muttered to herself before sitting on the ground and tucking her head between her legs, all the while thinking about how she could never look at them the same way again.

****

               Gerome looked up the exotic face of the women who may very well kill him. Her mirror sized emerald eyes glittering like diamonds upon spotting him, a misplaced seductive mile-wide smile formed on her caramel colored face. She brushed the wavy ropes of inky hair over her ears, and leaned in get a closer look at her prey.

               Just looking at that empty gaze of hers, he could tell that she was drugged with something very strong. Whoever did this to her was clearly an expert with date rape drugs, a disturbing talent for a 20 something college girl.          He instinctively backed away, his body not willing to give in as easy as his sense of reason.

               That vicious smile widened at his modest resistance; in her current mindset defiance was nothing but a challenge, a part of the show really. Her teeth were slightly crooked with vermilion stained tips. Just the thought of those teeth being the last thing he’ll ever see made him nauseous.

               “Good things are best saved for later.” She muttered rancid alcohol infused breath settling around him.

               Gerome panicked, “I was so goddamn close.” he fell back on all fours, “Please just… GO AWAY.” He screamed as the girls stubby fingers clumsily gripped him with the force of a compressor, her plump thumb kneading his face into the side of her pointer finger.

               Fresh tears streamed down his face. He tried to plead with her, beg her to stop, but the pressure was overwhelming. He tried to move, at the very least end his own life before she could, but his body was trapped; every limb squeezed awkwardly in-between several layers of now rock solid skin and muscle folding around him.

                              From his far left he heard screaming and cursing. It seemed as though he wasn’t the only one facing death today.

               “I know I done some awful shit, but man I don’t deserve to die yet.” Screamed his fellow inmate and victim. “Who am I kiddin though. I can’t even protect myself like this, let alone my family.”

               Her other hand catapulted upward towards the distance face in the sky, an enormous thick fist rushing past Gerome like a rocket before settling right next to her thin pursed lips. Trapped in her other hand was an older African American man, his body was covered in scars and judging by his age he must have been a good 30 years older than him.

               For a brief moment, despite the cloud of chemicals infecting her brain, she acknowledged his existence; a pair of soulless iridescent eyes gleaming with hunger and excitement at the broken men in her hands.

               Finally her lips parted, and the air once again was filled with hot sticky air so thick that neither Gerome nor the man could breathe. Ghastly strings of saliva formed and snapped as her jaw widened to accompany the man, her tongue rolling back and forth across her cheeks, eager to receive him. Gerome tried to look away as that would be him soon, however despite the horror of it all he needed to know what happened next.

               The man smiled and started to laugh maniacally, did he even realize the reality of his situation? “I wonder if they’ll put this on my gravestone.” He shouted down to Gerome, a large toothy smile plastered across his tired bearded face to cover up the fear. “Bit to death by some dopey little hoe”

               Gerome was shocked; how could anyone face death so openly, and why would anyone want to talk to him before they die? It exasperated him; how could someone this bold possibly deserve to die.

               The man glanced back at Gerome and gave him a simple nod before closed his eyes, and holding out his hands. “I’m ready you drugged up little slut. Send me to hell.” He said before two rows of sharp red stained teeth smashed into his chest and back.

               His body shuttered in pain briefly as her front teeth rammed into his ribcage from both sides, splitting the thick bone truss like an assortment of toothpicks and tearing the skin and muscle apart like toilet paper. Looking at his face, Gerome could tell that the death came quick; his head was shattered like a watermelon hit with a sledgehammer, his face distorted and crushed by the force of the initial bite.

               Her powerful fingers wrapped themselves apathetically around the other half of his body, which hung like a lifeless doll out over her lower lip. Her cheeks swelled out like balloons, and the force from her lower jaw increased tenfold. Her pinkish tan upper lip settled over the man like a blood stained flesh veil.

               The beefy muscles of her massive arm: bicep, wrist, and all bulged and tensed as she pulled the other half of his body away from her mouth. The fibers of what was once a proud man audibly popping and ripping as she yanked the half that was outside her mouth away from the deadly wall of teeth.

               Finally the ghastly sound of chewing could be heard, followed by the slimy muffled sound of a swallow.

               The girl dropped what was left of the man on the ground, where he struck against the dirty concrete with a loud thump. Immediately she reached with her now empty hand towards the many other people still trapped in the bowl.

               Gerome watched helplessly from her hand as one by one the numbers in the bowl began to gradually dwindle. Each one spirited from the bowl only to be killed almost immediately afterwards. It was a soul-crushing sight that only served to remind him of just how pathetic his existence had become.

               How fucked am I when the only thing I want more than anything else is a painless death, he thought as the pressure around him released, causing him to suddenly drop.

               Gerome’s instinct told him to cry out in fear, but at this point he was experienced enough to know that any sound he made would just bring attention to him; and so he allowed himself to fall in silence, his body rolling off her breasts and down the steep curvature of her body with a dangerous amount of speed before finally settling right at the edge of her skirt. His body tilted off the edge of the fabric cliff; finally, gravity won and he fell back down to the cold hard floor. Unharmed, but still slightly in shock from having nearly died for the twentieth time this day.

               A strong sugary odor permeated the air, and on either side of him was a thick wall of warm skin bent inward slightly by a pair of tight denim shorts. He ducked underneath the curve of her thigh, and looked up; she was distracted by some other poor soul. An Asian woman covered in scars, probably a former member of the infamous Santa Monica Yakuza cell that got busted a couple years back.

               Gerome’s heart-rate spiked as she looked down in-between her legs, “where did the funny looking one go?” she sputtered incoherently. “Oh well, time to eat.” She said opening her mouth again.

               This was his golden opportunity; she and the other girls were distracted, and the drug’s effects were clearly intensifying. Judging from their behavior, Gerome knew that they’d be unconscious in about 10 to 15 minutes.

               The warm dark bronzed wall behind him lifted up slightly as the massive dark skinned girl teetered on her side; her right ass cheek hanging a good 10 feet in the air and creating an opening for him to escape.

               It was risky. At any moment, the enormous curved surface of her butt could come down, suffocating him beneath a sheet of denim. However, if being on the run from the police had taught him anything, it was that the risky way is sometimes the best way.

               Running out from his cover  next to her leg, he looked up to confirm that she was distracted before sprinting into the shadow of the glorious moving arch formed by her tender thigh and leg. The sweet, almost seductive smell of her young flesh intensified to a suffocating level as he began his journey underneath her.

               “Kono chīsana koto ga kawaīdesu.” Said the slender older looking Asian sitting next to her, who in her drug induced trance probably didn’t realize she was speaking another language.

               Long pale fingers slapped down into the ground near the thigh. Her long pointed nails were dripping in blood. He looked up at the colossal denim ceiling above him; the closer he got the more likely she would kill him. I’ll be happy if she crushes me. The last thing I want to be is found right now, he thought while moving inward towards her buttocks to avoid detection.

               On all fours he crawled across the ground, making sure to stay as silent as physically possible to avoid detection. His body burned and ached from days of untreated injuries, hunger and thirst induced from exhaustion gnawed at his insides.

               He looked over, both the dark skinned girl he was hiding under and the Asian were distracted; this was the time to escape. “C’mon legs, just give me a little more strength!” he said as encouragement before leaping onto two legs and running across the cold hard floor towards the distant shelves.

               The glorious feeling of victory began to wash over him as the symphony of screams faded into background noise. He had no idea where he was going, and he had no idea if he was being chased, but at this point any scenario anywhere was better than that circle of death.

               His victory was so assured that he ignored the ground quaking.

                A loud thud came from his left followed by a gust of air and dust. He stopped in his tracks and turned to react, but before he could move the rubber toe section of a worn out sneaker was already bearing on him. The last thing he saw was Cynthia’s face, “Maaaarrriiiaa? Won’t you join us.” Echoed her voice from high above as the rubber slammed into his chin at full force sending Gerome’s miniscule body skidding across the ground until he was finally stopped by something hard and smooth.

               Gerome’s head was spinning, and his entire body felt strange. His vision began to blur and darken, but through the haze he managed to see something. It was Maria’s face, looming directly over him, her soft affectionate eyes focused squarely on him, just like before.

               What was it that she said again, “Welcome to Maria’s prison.” He said meekly before his vision faded to black.

****

               Maria looked down at the pathetic specimen lying still by her feet. She remembered him well, the near escapee from the day she first found the prison.

               His once clean orange uniform was torn to shreds, and his body was red and cut up from having to endure who knows what kinds of punishments both from his fellow inmates and her friends, who at that very moment were still killing them by the literal handfuls.

               Maria’s heart hardened; she was sick and tired for feeling sorry for both herself and these people. She wasn’t responsible for making them the way they were, but she was responsible for what happens to them now. It was foolish of her to try and preserve her own integrity despite being at the center of this entire mess.

               In fact, it was precisely this misguided delusion of maintaining innocence that forced her friend Cynthia, who she could never look at the same way again after today, to take deliberate action for her. Enough was enough; her mind was made up, and it was time to face reality. She was and will forever be the caretaker of these people; the warden of Maria’s Prison.