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Blunt nails dig into yellow skin and the way it scratches and claws the layer until it becomes raw and broken is done in such a feverish almost ritualistic manner. Zam waited patiently, it was another day in the cold tundra, another day that the growing, taunting sound of a grandfather clock reminded him of what was coming near. Zam is a dog, he's not a very good dog, but he waits like one. It's all he can do, wait. If there's a loud noise he turns his head, ears pointed to the floor. He knows what to expect by now, he knows he should run away, bite back if possible. Do anything, do something- he doesn't though. He gets up and he's ready to get this day over with. The clock's ticking had grown loud enough now to give him a headache and Zam can barely form a pure thought.
As he opened the door he could see the nether portal warble. The cold air stung his face and bit harshly at the torn wounds literred across every exposed surface of skin. No matter the amount of potions he took, the amount of gapples he chugged, the continuous respawns he put himself through, the wounds never closed. He wondered why that is. He didn't put them there. It wasn't much longer till a figure creeped out of the obsidian frame, an eerie screech of what sounds like nails on chalk board followed him. Zam stared at Mapicc with a big grin and hollowed eyes, he was excited to see him. If he could trick himself into thinking that Mapicc was company to his loneliness, the events that follow after didn't bother him. Mapicc could only look at him with disgust and hatred. Mapicc could only hate Zam and maybe Zam truly did deserve this.
Mapicc gets closer to Zam, pulling him out of his doorway and throwing him onto the cushion of snow. Zam lets him has his way, he's too weak to fight back. He'd let Mapicc get his way, for a dog's purpose is to be man's best friend. A good friend wouldn't betray. A good friend would let Mapicc get his frustrations out even if he is a monster.
The axe cutting him open would hurt, there would be no gentleness to it. Even after all the repetiveness, the blows never got any lighter, there would always be a feeling of resentment behind each swing. PrinceZam no longer cried, his body would only react by shaking harshly from loss of blood and the trauma it received with each blow. Zam reached out for Mapicc who only slapped his attempt away. Zam dropped his arms and Mapicc dropped himself ontop of Zam, fingers tracing the lining of his skin. He coated his hands with Zam's blood and Zam couldn't do anything but watch and feel. Oh it hurt but he didn't mind it, it was shameful, but he wanted this. Mapicc tore open his flesh with his hands, traced over Zam's intestines with loving delicacy. Mapicc made eye contact with Zam as he wrapped his hand around his heart. PrinceZam wasn't immortal but his tenacity was the only thing holding onto his life as he struggled to breathe and his heart struggled to beat. The taste of iron was overfilling his throat, his lungs, his mouth. He wanted to gag, throw up, anything to break free but that would be depriving Mapicc of his love. His devotion. Mapicc loves this, Zam thinks to himself, he loves me, he's obsessed with me.
Mapicc's gone when Zam respawns. The only reminder of his presence is his axe next to a bloodied snow print. He's lived too long but Mapicc isn't bored of him yet. Zam wasn't enough to be put down like a sick dog. He took his blankets, curled it around his body tightly and lay still in his bed. He thinks to himself, that someone else is in the house, the tears on his pillow feel far to foreign to be his.