The elation in Jaak’s eyes vanishes, leaving only bewilderment. He stumbles backwards, bumping into his table all the while his vision never breaking from me.
“What? Jaak, what is it? What did I say?” I ask frantically, knowing he could spiral into another psychotic episode. He doesn’t answer.
Despair dribbles from in my eyes; my broken mind searching for some semblance of sanity. He’s going to kill me. How can I reason with him? There’s no telling what will set him off. By the time I figure it out, it will be too late.
The minutes drag on painfully, both of us shrinking into the corners of this dreary crypt. I don’t dare to speak to him now. Jaak’s cries linger in the air, starting soft and slow, then growing into booming wales of anguish. I remain silent, monitoring him with vigilance, his unpredictable actions returning me to a constant state of awareness.
With quivering lips, he ascends the stairs and leaves. Even through the thick concrete, I hear the laments as they get farther away, until quiet remains. What is he? Changing from a bumbling moron to an unstable maniac. It reminds me of the exchange I had with Artemis.
Sleep takes me to an empty state of non-existence; floating in a weightless sphere of extinction. Fragments of cognition connect, trying to form thoughts and break apart. I only take notice of my consciousness when my appendages twitch slightly, or pangs of hunger attack my stomach.
My mouth salivates at the prospect of eating and my lips smack together. The fog of intoxication lifts after an unknown number of hours. I lean forward to stand up, but my body is still too damaged. Jaak bursts through the door, no longer walking with a sluggish stride.
In his hand is another syringe full of a dark green liquid. “Jaak, no! Please, just let me go!” Unable to fight him off, a blanket of fog covers my mind once more in a daydream like wonder.
It’s much stronger than the last one. I slip from the grip of self-control and drift. Before my coherence is completely absorbed into nothing, I shout up to Jaak from the floor below. “Jaak… food!” Unfamiliar images appear and lose all meaning. Slouched in a corner, I tolerate living in a nothing consciousness.
Incapable of understanding or attention, I don’t notice right away the plate by my foot. It’s food. I lunge at the plate and eat, unable to tell if it tastes good or not, but it goes down easy. Every once in a while a glass of water also appears in my random slots of cognizance.
Every time I feel the fog beginning to lift, Jaak sticks me with another syringe. This happens again and again for what seems like eternity as I’m unable to keep track. Each time I wake up, it’s the same. And endless loop of brief awareness, food and sleep.
Too drugged up to notice when Jaak has come and gone. How long have I been here now? I don’t remember. The sticky atmosphere traps me in a thick layer of unbreakable slothfulness. Unable to do anything but sink down into the mindless vacancy.
The lines of reality blur into one another and all I see is one big mass of gray. Life is nothing. I am nothing. Pain becomes a stranger to me as I disconnect to all forms of feeling. I laugh out loud and then shudder, I cough then I sneer, praise then I grieve, love and I hate.
Invaded and retreated, everything and nothing all at once. What is real? What is fake? What if I’m fake? What if this is all in my head? What if I don’t have a head? The clutter continues. I’ve lost all control of my faculties and thought.
They sputter all manner of sequences and fashions. Some silly and charismatic, others frightening and dispiriting. The universe collides into itself until I don’t even remember my name. I can’t remember much of anything now. All I do now is wait to eat so that I can go back to sleep, waiting for something to happen within this absent fusion.
This… is my arm. There’s something on it. I poke it. It feels hard. I clear away the layer of dust and blood, revealing a screen. It’s metal. Why is it on my arm? I shake my arm. It won’t let go, I don’t like it.
I pull at it with my fingers but they lack the strength to remove it. Frustrated, I give up and wait for the door to open. Where’s my food? I’m getting hungry. My thoughts are plagued with hallucinations. Images of plump, juicy strawberries fill my mind.
A memory stirs while I picture myself holding a plate filled to the edges with strawberries. That’s funny, didn’t I use to grow these? Yes, I did! What a strange thought. Didn’t I use a machine to grow them? Oh yeah, that’s right. I did. It was a big machine too. While I wait, my arms rub against each other; bringing the familiar object to my attention.
A machine. I used a machine to grow the food. And there’s a machine in my arm. It kept me from feeling good things and bad things. A painful flash in my mind portrays a young man in dirty work clothes, pushing a heavy silver tiller, covered in sweat.
That was me. That is me! Meaning returns as my mental state equalizes, my consciousness swimming towards the surface of abolition. Keep going! What’s your name? My name is… my name is… my name is… Krys!
I jerk my head up, absorbing my surroundings clearly for the first time since I don’t know when. My chest bears new cuts and bruises all over my body. The Kevlar pants are torn up and covered in crumbs and blood stains. The cold steel of chains chill my skin as they bind my arms.
It’s longer than the first one Jaak hung me from, though still restricting my movement. Fingers caress my face and chin, exposing the jagged facial hair. I might have been here for weeks! The mixture of sweat and dirt, leaves a musty paste on my fingertips.
The dizziness tempers, allowing me to think with greater mental faculty. My sight hasn’t recovered fully, though a bulbous object in the opposite corner keeps attracting my attention. I wiggle my toes. Still numb. At least I can move them. I need to find a way to get these chains off.
The cuffs themselves are slightly weathered with dark corrosive patterns along their surface. My BAND arm slides through with just a little bit of pressure. The other cuff is tight against my wrist, cutting into the skin.
Rusted metal scraps against bone, leaving deep impressions above my knuckles. I bite down on my lower lip to distract myself, the pain making me think that my hand could break. Just a few inches more. It slips off!
I gasp with excitement, having freed myself for confinement. Still groggy, I get to my feet only to lose balance. I try again till I manage to remain standing, though the nausea has yet to pass. I feel like crap. A chuckle sounds out of me. One of my favorite words from Eli’s dictionary.
The room looks clearer. Straightening up, I take a step. It’s like learning to walk all over again. Blood courses through my veins with every steady beat returning my energy. The bulging object in the corner catches my eye once again.
Not being completely within my own mind, I investigate, indulging my curiosity. Each footstep is sobering. What is this? A large black bag squats against the two walls. Jaak must have left this here while I was drugged.
The texture is rubbery to the touch and covered in a sticky liquid. “Disgusting.” The sickening realization comes not from touch or sight, but from the smell. A smell I’ve become all too familiar with. Blood.
The bag’s balance shifts and topples over, releasing a horrendous odor. The mist of confusion dissipates all at once as fear and adrenaline send a barrage of distressing alarms. I need to get out of here now! That sick maniac will be back at any second.
I don’t dare look at the contents of the bag. My legs have no problem moving now. They bounce up the steps with vigor til I reach the top and exit from this living nightmare. On the other side is a hallway extending a few feet, then leading to a stairwell.
I climb the stairs fiercely, with no thought of finding the other clothes Jaak took. At the top is another door leading into a large, barren room. Three pillars stand from the floor to the ceiling, looming in the dark. The sound of my panting bounces off the walls and back at me.
Don’t panic. Just focus on finding a way out. Where are the doors? There’s not enough light to see fully to the end of the room. Subtle ta
ps catch my ears, reverberating in every direction.
Footsteps. He’s coming back! But from where? Sweat pours down my face as I look for a place to hide; stricken with engrossing panic. A sliver of light dimly glows, exposing the outline of a door down the far end. The hinges of a door squeaks like a dying animal as I dart behind one of the pillars; covering my mouth.
The footsteps get louder as unbalanced feet pound onto the hard surface. Jaak hums a melody, jaunting past me unknowingly. His pace slows when reaching the edge of the stairs. I hold my breath. Does he know I escaped? How could he? I’ll only have a few seconds once he goes down the stairs.
Eventually he descends, continuing his cheerful tune. As soon as his voice disappears, I sprint to the other side, practically tearing off the handle. A deafening scream explodes from the lower level. The cry of a madman, filled with unreasonable fury. I jump through the door and close it.
“I’ve got to get away,” I whisper. Jaak’s innocent persona gives him the perfect alibi to conceal the monster inside. I keep thinking about the bag in the basement. What was he going to do with it? What was he going to do to me?
I shudder at the thought, not really wanting to know. I force myself not to throw up again. Just calm down, don’t think about it. To my left, there’s a chain nailed into the wall and a brass slot on the door. I connect them hastily, knowing it will only buy me a few minutes.
The second after securing the door, it budges forward; pulling the chain taut. A hand flies out of the crack waving around wildly. “You were Jaak’s friend! You were my friend. You said you stay with Jaak. Now Jaak angry!” The blood on his hand splatters all over as he flails it.
“Stay away!” I shout, walking up a small ramp to the main part of this area. I scramble for a way out as Jaak continues to rant and rave. Dozens of candles, all of which have been recently lit, cover the room. A table has been set up in the center with a fine white cloth, five chairs surrounding it.
Mismatched sets of plates and silverware are placed awkwardly. Two figures slump in the chairs closest to me, sending chills up my back. I don’t know if they’re alive or dead but I decide not to find out. Every inch of the walls are covered in drawings.
Some written in ink, some in paint and others in dark dried blood. They all read the same thing. “Left me.” The banging on the door becomes more intense. I’m running out of time. There must be another way out. An unsettling hysteria comes over me sending my brain into overdrive. While I pull at the hair on my head, I spot a window at the end of a filth-ridden kitchen.
“Jaak brought friend for friend. Made you special dinner. You not friend anymore. Not friend ever!” He bellows from the other side of the dilapidated passage.
I’ll need something to break the window. A corroding silver bucket perches at the edge of the table. Perfect! As I reach for it, one of the figures grabs me by the wrist, making me scream. “He won’t be happy if you go.” Her cheeks are raw, reddened from an endless stream of tears.
“Let me go or we’ll both die!” I retort with uncontainable self-preservation.
She squeezes tighter. “Please, don’t go.”
Her voice persuades me to peer deeper at her face. “Please, you have to stay. He’ll be so angry if you don’t.” I know her. The woman I heard screaming my first night with Eli. Her grip slacks as her carved-up body shakes with wrenching sobs.
He’s been drugging her too. Begrudgingly, I turn the chair around and pick her up. “Come on!” What am I doing? I’m gonna get killed for this! Unbearable moans agitate my ears as I cast her over my shoulder, then grab the bucket.
A glimpse of the other figure at the table turns me away, the buzzing of flies droning in between the sound of manic hammering at the door. The chain in the wall begins to break off. It’s now or never. The bucket impacts the glass, leaving a small dent. I swing again and a circle appears, leaving long streaks of cracks.
WHAM! The sound of splintering wood, signaling my limited time. With a barbaric cry, I crash against the window. The glass explodes, disappearing into the night; the bucket flying out with it. I poke my head through to get my bearings.
The kitchen is three stories up, near the outskirts of the city; most likely used for manufacturing. There’s only enough space to fit myself through.
“NO!” Jaak howls, barreling through from the other side in a frenzied rage.
I could drop the body and jump. The fall might break my legs, but that’s better than the alternative. But I can’t just leave her again.
Indecisiveness wracks my conscience, conflicting with my instinct to get away. I have to make a choice. Either I stay and fight, or I can leave her to die. My disembodied voice returns to me. “I would never give my life to save another. This is the world that we live in. You do as you’re told or you die.”
As Jaak manically sprints toward us in his tattered underwear, everything slows down.
I’ve spent my whole life trying to “survive.” Keeping my head down, keeping myself down so I could live another day. An endless loop of work, eat, and sleep. But that isn’t living! Opening up to Eli, my feelings for Leina, laughing with Maxis. . . that’s living! It was said “no one could leave the Sphere” and yet here I am. Months later and what do I have to show for it? What have I accomplished? What was it all for?
The rage in Jaak’s eyes is matched with the foam dribbling from his mouth. Then, all at once. . . understanding. Jaak’s victim slides off my shoulder, landing with a thump. I am not going to take it anymore.
Jaak leaps into the air with his teeth bared. I extend my right arm and let my fist devastate his face. The brutal blow sends him flying into the wall, leaving a large indentation.
“I’m sick of being told what to do!” I roar, hearing my voice ring out with authority I’ve never known. I stomp over and force him back to his feet. His right cheek has swollen into a deep purple bruise.
“No, no, no, wait, wait!” he sputters.
“I’ve waited long enough.” I punch him in the nose, a fountain of blood pouring as if a dam burst. “I’m tired of being afraid!” My uppercut sinks into his concave stomach, lifting him off his feet.
Jaak doubles over, wheezing as his arms cover his midsection.
“I’m done!” I scream, lifting my foot and launching him against the rotting countertop. His chin bounces off it, splitting his skin, embedding him with sharp debris.
“All my life… my whole life! I’ve had to stand there and take it. Take the shocks, take the fear, take the pain and push it down. Day in and day out, while getting the crap beat out of me! Not able to feel what I can’t help feeling? Not able to say whatever I want, or even think for myself?”
I bend down next to Jaak and punch him in the ribs. “Well I’ve had it!” I punch him again. “And you!” I say with special loathing. “You kept me here for… I don’t even know!”
I slap him across his mangled cheek, his thin skin rippling underneath my palm. “How about I make Jaak a girl?!” I shout, rocketing my elbow into his genitals. His screams of pain fuel my animalistic wrath. And in that moment, I let go.
My arms propel themselves without my notice. Blow after blow after blow until finally, I relent. My chest throttles up and down as I pace back and forth; stalking Jaak like a predator. Whimpers peep from his broken frame as he rolls from side to side.
He whines as I bend over him. “I decide for myself from now on. Not the IRIS and not you… me.” Despite the blood covering his face, the tears cascade from his eyes.
“Please don’t kill me,” he begs pathetically.
I pause with shock and outrage. “What did you just say to me?”
Again he pleads, “Please don’t kill me.”
I wrap my fingers around his scrawny neck and lift him up. “How dare you! How dare you ask for mercy.” With pressure on his windpipe, Jaak begins to gag and gasp for air. “You expect me to spare you? You’ve been torturing me for weeks! You abducted that woman and killed who knows how many others.
”
I feel the veins popping out of my face as I reach my physical limit. “You of all people don’t deserve to live, you disgusting sucio!”
Jaak’s eyes roll up into his head. What did I just say? I release him, his ghoulish body crashing to the floor. Did I just say sucio? That’s what Brutus called me.
I look down at my hands. Once calloused from backbreaking field work, then broken by brutal SIO training, and now I barely recognize them covered in someone else’s blood. I wipe them off best I can.
“I’m not going to be like them,” I square my shoulders, then look over at the mutilated carcass laying prostrate. “And I’m not going to be like you.”
Sharp inhales catch my attention as the woman hyperventilates. “It’s okay now,” I whisper, crouching down, cradling the back of her head. Her gaze refuses to turn away from Jaak.
“Is he dead?” she quakes.
“No,” I answer delicately.
“We have to kill him!” She fights me while attempting to crawl away to finish him off.
I restrain her gently, ensuring not to cause further harm.
“No no no! We have to kill him! We have to kill him! He needs to die!” I pull her close, shushing her wild sobs.
“He won’t hurt you anymore,” I dictate. Eventually, she submits and plunges her face into my scarred chest.
“Why did he do this to you?” I ask.
Partial words escape between sobs. “He said… it was… because I l-looked like his mother.”
I feel her forehead, she’s burning a fever. “You’re gonna be ok now. Hang on.”
Her body convulses in stiff movements, her sickly skin losing all color as unintelligible phrases garble out of her mouth. Pity sweeps over me while I brace against her, squeezing tight. There’s nothing I can do. She’s lost too much blood.
Overgrown fingernails dig into my chest and stomach before the seizures die out. Her hand slips out of mine, thudding onto the kitchen floor. With a heavy sigh, I close her lifeless eyes, letting the stillness of her once-thrashing body settle against me.
Iris Page 17