When you do something enough times, it loses all meaning. Get past the initial shock, the disgust, the deep eating shame, and it becomes a learned habit. Like rewiring a tool, it adapts to its new purpose. The same applies to people.

Buggsy had it down to an art. He could detach himself from the moment and ignore morality when Mr. Huggs demanded it. The helpless women laid out under the cameras like sacrificial lambs just became fleeting voices to him and he distanced himself when they begged him for mercy. He kept telling himself over and over again. They are not crying your name, the hands covered in blood are not your own, you are not crying with them....

Whatever it took to get it over with.

Smile, laugh, say stupid jokes, entertain, make fun of the misery, be a fool. Yeah, a fool. It was what he was best at.

He was elbows deep in some woman's belly when tonight's stream finally ended. Eyes wide and glazed over as he stared down at what he had done. At what he had always done. The audience wanted him to play doctor with tonight's victim and Mr. Huggs demanded that he follow their requests with that tight smile of his. It was small at first until their requests got more and more extreme. By the time they were requesting for her belly to be cut, Buggsy knew that this was this victim's last stream. He shut himself out of his own mind, pretending that he was someone else, and proceeded. She cried. Oh God she cried. She wailed and apologized and called out for her mother. But he couldn't stop. He cut through the skin, the fat, the flesh, and watched her warm insides spill out. Mr. Huggs praised him for being a good sport as the poor girl slowly died on camera. As Mr. Huggs left for his office, leaving Buggsy clean up the aftermath, he prayed that the woman would find peace in a place better than this. At least the audience didn't request him to make balloon animals from her intestines.

Once the blood was mopped, the body was properly disposed of, and the Pink Room cleansed with bleach, Buggsy could finally retire. He took a long shower and threw his bloody outfit into the facility's washing machine. In the meantime, he wore his pajamas with the circus print because Mr. Huggs was a slut for silly and cute theming and everything Buggsy wore was bought by that man. He groaned and walked down the hall as the sounds of the washing machine faded behind him. He passed a series of thick metal pink doors, each one holding a victim. Either women Mr. Huggs had kidnapped or bought from his suppliers. But it didn't matter how he got them, they would all die within a week.

Well, except for one.

He stopped in front of your room's door and could hear the television playing from inside. You were Mr. Hugg's favorite. He spoiled you rotten and bought you anything you wanted. He even bent one of two of his own rules for you. On the surface that might seem like a blessing. But Buggsy knew all too well the curse that came with being one of Mr. Hugg's favorite toys. It just meant your stay in hell was longer than most. And it didn't help that you were also his favorite as well.

"Time to see what the little bunny is up to..."He muttered softly to himself as he gently creaked your door open.