Ballerina’s Flesh Gallery - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

My breath hitched as my mind reeled—Victoria was back, unharmed, but the horrors she’d endured remained locked inside her unless she chose to speak.
Emily, though… Emily had chosen to protect her body.
It didn’t make sense. That damning photo had already exposed the wreckage of her private life—why would she make this choice?
The man’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, his tone almost cheerful. "Out of so many, she was the first to pick Option A. Fascinating, isn’t she?"
How many women had been dragged here before us? The weight of that question pressed down on me like a tombstone.
He misted another liquid over Emily’s back, waited, then helped her up with sickening satisfaction. "Look. Isn’t it exquisite?"
I couldn’t speak. My throat closed as I stared at the masterpiece carved into her skin—a Lycoris Radiata, dark crimson against her flesh. The flower of the underworld. Death. Hopeless love.
It was beautiful. So beautiful it made my pulse stutter, my vision blur. And that’s what made it monstrous.
The man admired his work with a pride that turned my stomach, his lips curling into something too twisted to call a smile.
An artist? No. A psychopath wearing human skin.
"What about you?" His voice sliced through the silence like a scalpel.
I flinched. "What?"
He turned Emily toward me, tilting her chin to reveal her face. "Do you want Option A, like her? Or Option B, like the others?"
Terror crashed over me in a suffocating wave.
I’d known it was coming, but seeing Emily’s face wrapped in blood-soaked bandages still shattered something inside me.
Noticing my horror, he softened his voice—a mockery of comfort. "Ah, there should’ve been five cuts—one for each day of my… entertainment. But she chose A, so I spared her the rest. I have principles, you see."
A demon. Speaking hell’s language with casual cruelty.
"Truthfully, she only got three. On the third cut, she struggled too much. My hand slipped—cut too deep. The blood… well, I had enough pigment early, so I showed mercy."
He grinned, leaning in. "I’m kind, aren’t I?"
My whole body trembled. "You’re worse than an animal."
He laughed, releasing Emily to snatch a knife from the table. Gripping my hair, he whispered, "You make me want to peel that pretty face off right now. Just like those—"
With a brutal yank, he forced me to face the nightmare on the other side of the room.
An entire wall of silicone masks stared back—some whole faces, others just fragments, lifeless and waiting.