Death lesson 24

Locked in a room, Whistler still in the doll. Still trapped in the tragedy of being a fuckboy. Rumple pacing stuffed fingers to his patchwork head, thinking, planning and debating. "what is allusive can be found" he thought. It still escaped him, however.
   The witch was in the kitchen making a stew out of a couple of children she had caught earlier and was in the process of cooking them down. "No need to hurry." she thought "this stew will turn out just fine."  she stirred it, and an eye and an ear floated to the top of the simmering pot. Disappointment was waiting for his share of the prize,  though the witch was telling him he must wait till it is finished before he may have his share.
The rooms were dark with bars on the windows, and a giant spear of light landing on the little doll. Dust and light, Rumple no plan but somehow he believed it would all work out. Trapped in his eight by eight cell a storm door separating him from his enemy. He found a brick and a broom. "now I have a plan!" he said out loud. but the witch heard him and said: "oh what would that be my dear king fuckboy?" Rumple took the brick and smashed it on the floor, leaving no damage to the concrete but making a rather loud thud. "you are going to make a fool out of yourself?" the witch laughed. But after have an hour of cussing she was ready to get rid of him, in a wrong way.
   "let me have the fucker," said disappointment. "I am going to maul his ass," but the witch ignored him but between the thud of the brick and the dog begging she decide something had to be done, so she put disappointment on a leash and tied him to the door nob than went into the little room, to deal with the noise. as soon as the door was open flung with a softball pitch the brick went flying from rumple's fingers and hit the witch on the floor head, knocking her out.
   When she woke up she was tied to her bed, her arms and legs to each bedpost. Her nose had stopped bleeding a trail of black crusting blood on her upper lips. "how do I free the fuckboys?" said rumple "not like this?" said the witch. Rumple responded with violence, hitting the back of her thighs with the broom as hard as he could. She cried out, a whimpering desperate stinging voice for help. "ok, ok." she said. "I have to touch the back of the doll, the part of the doll shaped like a hand and say 'i forgive you'" "is that all?" "yes," she said. So rumple walked back to the room and grabbed the doll that imprisoned whistler. All the while disappoint screamed threats and made it known he was there. The witch placed her hand on the doll, her hand resting on its back though still retrained, "I forgive you." the door began to shake and grow, and she nudged it off the bed as it became whistler havoc. Laying on the floor, black rings around his eyes and breath that made you want to throw up in your mouth. and all he said was "let me die." The years of being stung with needles, heald over candles and all without his voice being heard, made the man sitting on the floor, a bitter, desperate shell of what he used to be.
   Rumple inraged stalked to disappointment and beat the dog to death with the broom. It took most of an hour. It's threats turned into pleas and at last begging for the kindness of death. The witch was crying, sobbing the words "not my disappointment," while whistler havoc said plainly every few moments "let me die." rumple caught the bristles of the broom on fire with the stove that was still simmering the dead children, bits and pieces. Then laid his torch under the bed of the witch as she cried and screamed. "I will see you in hell," said the witch "been there done that," said Rumple. he thought about staying in with them to die but instead looked at Whistler and "you know your right." then walked out of the house and watched it burn, deciding he would free the fuck boys he could...because at the end of the day that is what rumple was.