The Perfect Meal (weekend freewrite)

Charlotte ate green peppers all day long, so that by nightfall she was bloody sick. But she couldn't stop eating the peppers, otherwise the sword would drop.
She had thought about it long and hard, as one usually does when they have a whole day at their disposal, and there was no way to go around the sword or get out of its way before it dropped, it would come down far too fast. And she was not quick enough to save her own life, so she had to sit there and eat and hope that, one day, the peppers would end.

There was a sound behind her, it must've been the door. How she hated this – being trapped inside her own house, others being allowed to muddy her carpets and sleep in her sheets and...mess everything up. Not being allowed to decide who came into her house.

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It was only her and the peppers now.
There were steps down the corridor. Somebody was coming.
He was coming.

The door to her room opened without a sound, something she used to like, but that now frightened the hell out of her. And the man stepped inside and came to sit in front of Charlotte. He sat quite close to her, despite the fact that he was within reach of the blade, if it did fall.

'You're sick,' he remarked, with glee.

She nodded.

'Good. That's the point. Why don't you stop?'

It was a trick, she knew that if she started talking she wouldn't manage to swallow the pepper and the sword would fall.

So she was silent.

'If you don't take chances,' said the man in the striped pajamas, 'you might as well not be alive.'
He was baiting her. He liked the game, she could tell. Probably didn't give a shit if the sword killed her, he just liked playing with her, sensing the fear in her hand as she reached out to take the next pepper.
She gulped. She did not want the next pepper, but she stuffed it down her throat any way.
The man smiled, 'Why don't you stop?'

His voice was so smooth, so compassionate, it was almost begging her to stop, to just let go. It had that lovely way of reassuring the listener that 'it's alright'.
Only it wasn't alright, not by a long shot.
Charlotte realized, to her amazement, that if she could stop for long enough to say something, she wouldn't reply or ask why he was doing this. She would ask about the pajamas.
He always came to her in the striped pajamas. Although she didn't know how many times he'd come so far. It might've been two, might've been five. He would disappear...
She focused on his large, plump lips – attractive lips, lips she would've kissed in another lifetime. He was mouthing the word 'stop'.
Charlotte just bit down on the horrible peppers. They didn't even sting her tongue anymore. It
just
hurt.

She shook her head at the man in the pajamas and tears welled up in her eyes. Please stop, please let me go, you don't have to do this.

But men like that never have to do anything. They like doing it.

The time he invited his mother to dinner was on the man's mind,as he stared at the beautiful woman sitting in front of him. She – his mother, that is – had been an excellent cook herself. But not an excellent person. Nothing was ever good enough, but she knew how to fix it, didn't she? She knew just what needed to be added to the food, to make it perfect again.

He knew it was silly, but it had always bothered him. That night, most of all. He had cooked a spicy dish, he'd read about it online. He must've gone through twenty different recipes, before getting the perfect one.
And all he had wanted was for his mother to shut the fuck up.
Not even to compliment him on the food, he didn't want her to say anything. Because the food would be so good, that it would keep her mouth busy. And then he'd finally have a nice dinner with his dear old mother.
But dreams have a way of ending, and they did, when she opened her mouth to taste the sauce.
'It's lovely, baby dear...it just need a little bit of pepper.'

She'd whisked up from the table and into the kitchen. He didn't need to go inside to know she was chopping up some green pepper.
That would make it perfect.

Because he could never make things perfect.

He bent down over the woman who had once been beautiful and kissed her forehead. He could feel her face moved as she chewed.

'There, mommy, now you're perfect.'

Weekend freewrite, part of @mariannewest's 5 Minute Freewrite Challenge. Thank you for reading.