Mutatus

by Ally Vance

  I start the the water running so it can begin heating up, and I wonder how long it’s been since she’s had a proper shower. If I discover that Darryn’s the one who’s been helping her to bathe at that damned Freak Show, then I’ll remove his other hand for him.

  “Get in the shower, Maia,” I instruct, but she stands unmoving, her eyes wide and wary.

  I let out an irritated sigh and walk back toward her.

  “Are you going to make this difficult? You’ll like it even less if you force my hand,” I gripe at her, raising an eyebrow as I tower over her.

  Maia is so dainty, but I know she isn’t as frail or helpless as she would like to have me believe. She’d fight me, tooth and nail, if I let her. Reaching down, I grip the hem of the filthy shirt she’s wearing, but she pulls away.

  “I can do it myself,” she mutters quietly.

  She walks around me, quickly shedding her clothes until she’s completely naked, and the wings I gifted her are exposed.

  “You’re as beautiful as I remember,” I remark, raking my eyes over her small form.

  She may be delicately built, but she has curves that I’ve explored on more than one occasion and fully intend to do so again. She is unique, perfect, and very much mine. I watch as she steps into the shower, frowning when I see how raw the skin is around the base of her wings and the small splits in her flesh that were caused, no doubt, when she was trying to free herself from the cage in which I imprisoned her.

  Maia winces when the spray of water hits the open wounds, and I watch as she struggles to clean around them. Slipping off my shoes, unbuttoning my shirt, and removing my pants, I step in beside her, but she jerks away from me, hitting the shower wall in her eagerness to put some distance between us. When her small body and wings hit the tiles, she cries out.

  “Get out,” she shouts, pushing at me uselessly.

  “No,” I respond flatly, “You need help. You’re damaging your body trying to do this on your own. You know full well that you're going to make your injuries worse.”

  “I don’t want you to touch me,” she hisses, her eyes darting around as she searches for an escape route.

  “You’re going to stand still and let me wash and treat your wounds, Maia,” I snap, and she flinches at my tone.

  She submits, but the tension doesn’t leave her body as I gently clean her. I make sure to be mindful of her wounds Thankfully, they aren’t bad enough to require stitches. However, I will have to bandage them to prevent further injury. Once she’s clean, Maia attempts to move around me, but I stop her with a hand on her arm.

  “You ran from me once, Maia,” I begin. “I let you go, and you fucking ran. I made a mistake, but it won’t happen again. Last time was a fluke. You were never meant to escape me completely.”

  I grab a towel and dry her off. She’s fallen silent again, and I use the opportunity to thoroughly check her over. I trail a hand down the soft skin of her back when she obliges me by turning…Maia’s learning. She shivers at the contact, and it reawakens the desire I’ve been curbing since I first laid eyes on her again after so long.

  I could do nothing at the Carnaval, because of the crowd and the risk of being caught by her freaky friends or by the interfering, one-handed menace I’ve currently got strapped to a gurney downstairs. But now, there are no barriers, no risks, and no one can stop me. After pulling my pants back on, I turn to face Maia. I tear holes in the back of my shirt, and reluctantly put it on her before buttoning it up. My hand closes around her upper arm, and I drag her from the bathroom. She’s crying, cursing me, and trying to free herself from my grip, but I don’t relent, and I don’t release her. I’m eager to show Maia the surprise awaiting us in my room. I’m going to strap her in the harness, and then I’m going to fuck her until she remembers where she belongs.

  Thirteen

  Maia

  As we walk past Dr. Waugh’s office, I peek through the door and see that very little has changed: the photos on the wall of the two of us next to his Medical Degree, the books on the shelves, and everything on the desk in it’s correct place. It’s all exactly the same, but I’m not the same person I was before I left here. I want to go home. I never wanted to come back here, but when Camden Waugh sets his mind on something, then he always gets it. I hate him for what he’s done to me and to Darryn. Getting away from him again will be impossible, so I just hope that whatever surprise he’s got in store for me won’t leave me in worse shape than I am already.

  We venture deeper into the house, and I rack my brains, trying to recall the layout and pinpoint exactly where we are in relation to the basement. It’s been eight years and the details are fuzzy, but it’s slowly coming back to me. I think we’re near the main staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Being down in the basement brought all the worst memories of this place to the surface, and my heart flutters nervously in my chest. If he wanted to dehumanize me further than he already had, then mission fucking accomplished when he locked me in that cage. I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t for longer, not like poor Wren who was imprisoned in one daily for simply being true to his nature.

  “I have something to show you. You looked so beautiful up on that stage, so I ordered this especially for you. I had it delivered while waiting to bring you home, and I’ve set everything up, ready for you. I’ve been dreaming of having you back here with me. I’ve missed you, Thumbelina,” he says, grabbing my hand when I linger behind him.

  It requires every ounce of my willpower not to snatch it away from him…away from the cruel hands that crafted the hideous wings affixed to my body and mutilated Darryn’s hand beyond repair. My friend will be lucky if he can continue his work as a doctor for the members of Carnaval Des Ténèbres, but knowing him, he won’t let it hamper him for long. Like so many others in my adopted family, he’ll adapt and come back even stronger for it. I don’t feel strong right now, though. Instead, I feel like I could crumble away into dust.

  I manage to pull free and blindly run through the house, looking for the bedroom that was my sanctuary before he destroyed my body, hoping I can find somewhere to hide. I’m only wearing his shirt, and I can’t bear to be this vulnerable to him. Finally, I find the right door and burst through it with Dr. Waugh still hot on my heels.

  “Don’t you dare run from me, Maia!” he bellows, and I duck under his outstretched hand.

  I dart across the room and yank open a drawer, hoping to find some of my old clothes to wear. I’m forced forward and the drawer is closed from the weight of Dr. Waugh’s body slamming against mine. I let out a yell of pain from the pressure being exerted on my back and wings. He lifts me as though I’m weightless, and now airborne, I kick my legs out at him, but it makes no difference. He carries me from the room, and I scream in his ear when I see where he’s planning to take me.

  Memories of the pain, the blood, and the anguish hit me like a tidal wave until I’m drowning in them. With a growl of frustration, he puts me down and attempts to drag me along, but I plant my feet firmly against the carpeted floor and refuse to move another step.

  “Maia, come along,” he orders sharply, his tone agitated with an edge to it that I don’t want to think about.

  I shake my head.

  “No. Why are you doing this?” I ask, twisting my arm in an effort to loosen his grip.

  “You ran from it all, Maia. You ran from our past, and our life together in this house, You left me, and you didn’t come back. What did you expect me to do? Let it all go? Let you go?” he questions, demanding the answers with his unforgiving tone.

  “You should’ve let me go, and then you should’ve left me alone. I was happy at the Carnaval with my family. I was free. I didn’t want to remember our life together here, because you destroyed all that was good about us when you ripped away my humanity with your sick experiment. I hate these things you’ve forced me to live with, I hate that you turned me into a monster…an even bigger freak than I already was. You made me as fucked up on the outside as you are o
n the inside, and I hate you for it!” I scream, frantically trying to pull away from him, but he tightens his hand around mine until the bones are protesting in his crushing grip.

  Losing his temper, he shakes me violently.

  “I created you. I made you beautiful. You’re not a monster, and neither am I. How dare you demean yourself. I gave you everything…your life, a home, love, and a future. You want to know the real reason why your parents gave you to me? They asked me to euthanize you because they believed you were an abomination, but I saw your true beauty and couldn’t allow that to happen, so I registered you as mine. You are my daughter, Maia Waugh, my sweet creation, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. You belong here with me, not with that band of freaks you dare to call a family. You’ll never get to see them again. Promise to stay here with me forever, and I’ll even let the freak I’ve got strapped to the gurney in the basement go back home. I could so easily have killed him, but instead, I only took his hand. I was feeling merciful because of you. Stop testing me unless you want me to drag you back downstairs, lock you in the cage again, and force you to watch as I dismantle your friend piece by piece, and this time, I’ll make sure he’s conscious throughout the entire procedure!”

  It saddens and frightens me to realize how warped Dr. Waugh’s become since my childhood. He didn’t completely destroy me when he disfigured me eleven years ago. My soul was cracked and bleeding when I escaped him, but my family at the Carnaval des Ténèbres were the balm and the bandages I needed to make me feel almost human again. I finally had some hope and light in my life. Everything I’ve experienced in the last eight years has built me up and made me think I was strong, but it was all for nothing. In less than twenty four hours, he has wrenched off all the bandages, shoved his hands into my healing wounds and ripped out my fucking soul. I don’t know how I’ll ever come back from this. Tears stream down my face and drip onto my clothes while I silently shatter into a thousand pieces.

  Camden Waugh’s a clever man but he’s wrong about one thing; he is a monster.

  Fourteen

  Darryn

  He took Maia and left me alone down here with silence for company. The only sounds now are my harsh, ragged breaths and the hum of the light above me. Maybe I should be grateful for the fact he didn’t shut me in the dark, but I’m not. Tensing my arms, I test the straps, but the blinding pain that shoots up my mutilated right hand and wrist when I apply pressure makes me nearly black out again. I have to clamp my teeth together to keep the yell from escaping.

  I slump back down on the gurney, and force myself to breathe deeply until I’m able to focus again. Minutes pass, and the agonizing throb dulls from unbearable to manageable. I can’t leave Maia at the mercy of Dr. Waugh’s whim.

  I try again to loosen the restraints binding me. They don’t budge, but I do succeed in rocking the whole gurney as I shift my body in a desperate bid to break free. The brakes are on, so I can’t use momentum to move it, but maybe I can get it to tip over. I eye my useless hand dubiously; if I fuck this up, I could land on it and potentially damage it further. Even if I avoid doing that, hitting the concrete floor is going to hurt, and not just a little. However, I can’t just lie here and do nothing.

  Taking a few calming deep breaths, I inhale one final time and begin to force the gurney to rock. There isn’t much room in the straps, so it’s difficult to build the momentum I need. After several minutes of shifting myself from side to side, though, they begin to give, enabling me to grip one side of the gurney and use it to aid my restricted movements.

  As the straps loosen even further from the constant release and re-application of pressure, I’m able to increase my movement until I manage to tilt the gurney enough to one side to tip it over. I see the concrete flying toward my face as I crash to the floor, and I quickly turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and clamping my teeth together as I brace myself for the impact.

  When I land, my damaged wrist is jolted with the rest of my body and the weight of the gurney falling on top of me. The risk of being discovered due to the deafening crash of the metal stretcher hitting concrete is the least of my concerns, because now I’m trapped between the bed and the floor, imprisoned by my own stupidity, and I roar as a wave of excruciating agony shoots from stump to shoulder. My screams are so loud in this cavernous room they make me sound completely inhuman. I’m wheezing, ragged breaths whooshing out of my lungs as I attempt to get the pain and myself under control, but it’s not working. It’s all too much, and I already have faint black spots blurring my vision.

  My pain-addled brain barely registers a door being opened followed by heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs until a pair of shoes comes into my view. I hear the sound of metal scraping and clattering as my body is released from the gurney, and I sag against the floor when the weight is lifted from me.

  “Well, that was a foolish thing to do, wasn’t it?” a sarcastic voice scolds from above me. I can’t respond, but the voice continues without my answer. “I should have left you like that, lying underneath the weight of your idiocy, but fortunately for you, I’m feeling generous today.”

  A faint prick in my arm draws my attention, but before I can see what he’s done, he begins to move my limbs, manipulating my body as though he’s going to put me into the recovery position. The pain is fading, but so is every other feeling, and I start to panic as clarity slowly returns to me. Whatever he injected me with has paralyzed me. Comprehension of my latest predicament dawns on me. I’m now completely immobile and unable to even lift a finger to fight him

  “I’ve injected you with a powerful anesthetic,” he tells me, his voice clinical and emotionless.

  “Darryn?” I hear Maia’s voice, and it sounds thick as though she’s been crying.

  I want to answer her, but my body feels so heavy, and my head is beginning to fog. He must have used the kind of shit that’s given to patients undergoing surgery.

  At the sound of Maia’s dainty footsteps getting closer, I force myself to focus on her.

  “Get back upstairs, Maia,” Dr. Waugh snaps.

  “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt him anymore. What have you done?” she shrieks hysterically.

  Maia flies past my vision, as gracefully as an angel. I can hear the sounds of a scuffle taking place and words being exchanged , but I can’t make out what they are.

  A loud clatter forces me to open my eyes again, and I fight against the pull of the drug he injected into me. Squinting through the bleariness, I see a flash of silver, followed by a spray of red before I’m pulled into a heavy, drug-induced blackness.

  Fifteen

  Maia

  Having dragged me from my old bedroom, Dr. Waugh continues to persist in trying to make me submit until a loud crash from underneath the house snaps him out of his tirade. He releases me before storming off toward the basement. I go after him, keeping some distance in case he turns on me. I hope Darryn is okay. Judging by the volume of the screams echoing up through the floor, though, that seems unlikely. I quicken my pace, shelving my own despair while I hurry to discover if he’s all right.

  I follow Dr. Waugh through the basement door and down the stairs, afraid of what I’ll find. Approaching the bottom of the steps, I see Dr. Waugh crouched beside Darryn who is lying on the floor with the gurney next to him.

  “Darryn?” I call out to him, and he turns his head slightly in my direction.

  I take a step closer, but upon hearing me speak, Dr. Waugh turns toward me. An expression of fury morphs his handsome features and makes him look every bit the devil he is.

  “Get back upstairs, Maia,” he snaps, but I’m done listening to him.

  “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him anymore. What have you done?” I scream at him, gesturing at the syringe lying abandoned next to him and noting the state Darryn is in.

  “He did this to himself, Maia,” he says calmly, slowly standing up to his full height.

  “No. No more of this!” I shout, thr
owing myself at him.

  He easily deflects my attack, and stumbling on the uneven ground, I hurtle into the trolley that holds his tray of surgical tools. It clatters to the floor, spilling all of his instruments at my feet. My heart is pounding, and I blindly grab for one of them as Dr. Waugh rushes toward me with a shout.

  I lash out with the object in my hand, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Mai-a.” My name comes out garbled from his lips, and I stare in horror when I see what I’ve done.

  He’s directly in front of me with his eyes as wide as mine, and we stare unblinkingly at each other. It feels as though we’re caught in limbo, and this basement is the focal point for our purgatory. My hand is wrapped around the steel handle of his scalpel while the blade is embedded deep inside his neck, and his face is level with mine.

  Everything seems to move in slow motion, and before he can stop me, I yank it out. Blood immediately sprays from the wound, coating everything close by. Dr. Waugh’s hands fly up to the injury, attempting to apply pressure to the wound to stem the bleeding. His fingers are immediately covered in blood, and it stains the white collar of his shirt a deep crimson.

  All I can do is watch, frozen in place, as the blood continues to pour, and he fails to stem the flow. He drops onto his knees in front of me, his eyes downcast and mournful, and filled with something that looks a lot like regret, if I believed him capable of such an emotion. But even if he could feel remorse, I know it would only be there because of his predicament, and not because of the terrible things he’s done. He’s bleeding out before my very eyes, and as he slumps onto his knees, he reaches out with his bloody hand and wraps it around my wrist, tugging me down beside him.