Flesh Failure

by Sèphera Girón

  I tried not to look at any of them, though they wouldn’t have seen me looking from my black-veiled barrier. We walked slowly, my feet unsure on the slippery floors.

  We pushed through several sets of doors, winding through a labyrinth of hallways until we reached a new set of strong oaken doors. A sign on the door informed us that this was private with no trespassing.

  The mood of the hospital changed. It was dark and quiet. No, quiet wasn’t the word as moans and screams filled the air. But the atmosphere didn’t have the same hustle and bustle of urgency. Here time was slow, torturous. My senses tingled as pain of the people behind the closed doors we passed reached through and gripped me in the heart. My stomach clenched and several times senses overwhelmed me. The emotions of the patients whirled and swirled, their sobbing laments causing me to wonder at my own fate.

  We reached a door and Dr. Rueben produced a set of keys.

  “My office,” he said as he led me in. I looked at the pictures on the walls, at the horrific renderings of barbaric surgical instruments. One painting in particular intrigued me. It was of a body lying on a slab with several men sewing through it with long needles and threads. From buckets around them, body parts hung out; an arm, a foot, a leg.

  I continued to stare at the bloody, garish painting.

  “Is this me?” I asked.

  “How could it be you? This picture is decades old.”

  “I mean, is this the type of creature that I am? Sewn together from pieces in pails?” I looked down at the faint scars on my wrists, my fingers, all down my arms. Patches sewn here and there. Scars of needle and thread, there was no denial. The hideous marks in my face that never wanted to completely heal were proof of that.

  “I don’t know your origin, Agatha. I don’t know how you were created.”

  “I’m sure I do.” I continued to stare at the picture while he busied himself at his desk. I studied the picture so long that he had written several pieces of correspondence and was eager to begin whatever it was I was to experience.

  We walked down the long, cold corridor until we arrived at a very large white room. There were beds everywhere. Most of the beds were covered with sheets that had the outlines of human bodies beneath.

  “This is where we store the newly dead. Wrapped up so that their disease won’t infect others.”

  I nodded.

  “Remove your hat, your dress. We need to examine you for the notes.”

  I stripped naked, modesty not being part of this new self, and watched his face as he laid eyes on the horror of my body. He gulped as he indicated for me to turn around in front of him. I did so, with no reason to really care. It was a joy to be relieved of the foul clothing and standing in the cool room. My wounds throbbed, though they weren’t seeping pus. It was odd to me that they hurt at all since they appeared healed.

  My heart pounded as I studied his face while he looked me up and down. What was he seeing? He would look at a scar or a mark and then write it down in his book. He drew pictures of me; I watched him, and made lines where my marks were, where I was sewn together.

  He was most interested in my head.

  “What magnificent work, you can hardly see the scars at all.” He seemed proud, whistling. The more he looked, the more excited he became.

  My intuition was pulsing harder. I closed my eyes, listening to his crowing.

  It was him.

  It was him all along.

  I opened my eyes, anger flooded me with this new revelation. I reached out and grabbed him by the throat. He dropped his ruler and pen.

  “Agatha, what’s wrong?” he cried out. His feet lifted from the ground as I held him in the air.

  “You,” I accused.

  “What?”

  “You lied to me.”

  I pinched his neck tighter, his feet swung as his hands tried to pry mine from him.

  “You’re so strong. How can it be?”

  “You made me this strong… So what do you think?”

  “I think you should put me down.”

  “I should just kill you now, you pathetic, lying beast.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did. You helped to make me and then you abandoned me. Both of you. You left me for dead in the woods like an animal. No grave marker. No sorrow.”

  “We thought you were dead. Where should I have buried you? You’re an experiment, a secret, a mistake. And who are you...really? You’re made from so many parts. A marker indeed.”

  His pithy words had barely left his lips when I threw him across the room. He hit the wall and crumpled into a heap.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cried. “Please don’t kill me. I was only helping…at the last minute. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

  “I want to kill you,” I said, pacing. “I want to kill you for all the suffering you’ve given me. How is it to live like this? And then to abandon me to fend for myself? How cruel.”

  “But I’m helping you now, right? Remember?”

  I stopped and stared at him.

  “I’m helping you and don’t you forget it,” he said. “You could be locked up in an institution by now. And remember, we’re going on tour. Together.”

  “So who is he then?” I asked, pulling myself up to my full height. Dr. Rueben stared at me, cowering as his lips and eyelids began to swell with bruises.

  “I can’t tell you. He’ll destroy me. My career, my livelihood, my life.”

  “I’ll destroy your life if you don’t tell me who made me and why.”

  “You already know the why. You sat through a whole lecture of it.”

  “I don’t believe you. I believe there was something more.”

  “No, people are curious. They yearn to play God. As technologies advance, we’re able to unravel more of life’s mysteries. It’s only human nature to take something apart and then put it back together again. Why shouldn’t that concept apply to taking a man apart and putting him back together?”

  “But he didn’t do that. He took many women apart and sewed us back together, although I suspect he used a few man pieces such as some of the skin grafts and my feet.”

  I raised my foot above his head where he crouched on the floor in the darkened doorway.

  “Agatha, why don’t you go home? We’ve done enough for today,” he said softly.

  I lowered my foot and stared at him.

  No, I couldn’t crush him. I needed him. We had to go on tour.

  I never saw the Elephant Man that day or even the next. But there was a day when I was walking through the halls and several nurses wheeled a very large man with a covered face towards my direction. The nurse knew me by now as Dr. Rueben’s assistant, and let me stop the entourage. I approached the figure in the wheelchair. He wore a hat with a light-coloured fabric that draped down to his lap. Two small holes allowed him to peer out at me. His eyes twinkled and I wondered what he thought of me, in my own netted hat. Did he wonder if I too had some horrible disfigurement?

  “Joseph Merrick,” I said, holding out a black-gloved hand. He nodded to me and shook my hand.

  “We have much in common, you and I,” I said to him. He spoke to me but under his headdress, I couldn’t make out a word he said.

  “I wondered, is it worth it? The sideshow life?” I asked.

  He shook his head and I understood the word “no” very clearly.

  “Were they mean to you?”

  He nodded, speaking more slurred words I couldn’t understand.

  “I guess at least you know who you are,” I said. “You may have a rare disease but you know who your parents are and where you’re from. Me…I’m derived from someone’s nightmare.”

  One of the nurses leaned over Joseph. “I’m afraid Mr. Merrick needs to go to his tests now.”

  “Goodbye
,” I said to him. I think he said goodbye back to me.

  It moved me, seeing him like that. All wrapped up in a wheelchair, the nurses attending to him, his eagerness to speak though I couldn’t understand him. But it gave me hope in an odd way that if I wanted to succumb to man’s desires, I would have a home for the rest of my life.

  A few days after that incident, Dr. Rueben told me over dinner one night that the Elephant Man had been very impressed with me and wondered if I would consider entertaining him with my presence one afternoon.

  “What did you say?”

  “Well, the news wasn’t given to me by him so I can’t allow such a meeting to take place.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, certainly, you have no interest in the Elephant Man? What kind of life would you live with a beast such as him? You’re not such a monster. Scars and foul odour, most certainly, but not truly a monster as he is with his growing deformities.”

  “I would like to sit with the Elephant Man one day. I’m not saying I want to be his wife, I just would be interested in a conversation, perhaps with his nursemaid handy to interpret for me.”

  “Out of the question. He will grow attached to you and then what will happen? No, the Elephant Man is lonely and searching for a mate. He thinks because you’re disfigured that you will love him. He doesn’t know that you have no unsightly tumors that grow for no reason.”

  “Very well.” I didn’t want to argue anymore and resumed eating my dinner. Dr. Rueben was getting on my nerves. I was beginning to wonder when our tour would begin.

  I woke one morning with a terrible headache. I squinted my eyes open but I was in total darkness. My face itched and I yearned to scratch it but my arms were fastened down. Every limb was secured. It was impossible to move more than an inch or two from side to side.

  The darkness was so black. Familiar wails from the lunatic asylum penetrated the walls. I had been too careless, too trusting. I had been a fool not to kill the doctor the minute I recognized him.

  The idea of it angered me and I thrashed and flailed. The bindings began to tear. I laughed and screamed, thrashing harder and faster until at last I was free. I sat up on the bed but needed to figure out where I was, what dangers might be lurking in the room.

  I reached around the bed and there was a table beside it. Just as I hoped, a gaslight. I turned the knob and before long, a flame filled the glass.

  Shadows stretched long against the walls. Tripping and dancing, I sought my bearings. It was a tiny room. There was a door with a handle. I leaped from the bed and hurried to the door. It wasn’t locked.

  I laughed as I retrieved the lantern and opened the door more. When I peeked out into the hallway, I presumed it was nighttime. There was no one around to be seen or heard. Except for the wailing from the lunatic asylum, there wasn’t any noise in the experimental wing.

  I smiled as I walked down the hallway. No one was anywhere. With every step I grew braver until I broke into a run, careful not to jostle the lantern. My steps were long and smooth as I raced down the familiar hallway. I was going to first go to his office and steal what I could. Of course his office was locked when I arrived, but I kicked the door open. I held up the lantern and searched his desk for items of importance. I filled a sack with silver, several pounds that had been wrapped in a silk handkerchief, and several surgical knives.

  There was a shadow at the end of the hallway. Not a figment of my imagination. I ran over to it, and saw a terrible sight. I held up the lantern, staring at the face of what was neither man nor woman but very wide eyes, a large flat nose and mouth that appeared twice the width of a regular mouth. The creature reached up at me, and its hands were not hands at all. They were claws, as though a giant monster from the seas was growing from her arms. It was indeed a “her” I fathomed as tiny shriveled breasts bounced against her boney chest. I could barely contain a scream as I stepped back from her. She realized I was going to be of no harm to her and in fact likely registered that I was just as hideous. I was barely clothed and my face must have been a nightmare in the lantern light.

  She stood up and shrieked at me. Her cries were like painful shards of glass shattering in my ears. Her wails echoed through the hallways and I wondered if she wasn’t sending out some kind of alarm. Her awful cries woke many of the inmates and they screamed and banged at the doors of their cells.

  I ran towards another maze of hallways. The creature continued to shriek but didn’t follow me. I finally thought I had the door. As I reached for the door handle, someone jumped on me, teeth gnashing, pulling at my hair. I pried the person from me, another odd-looking thing. This one retreated on fours to look at me while I growled back at it. She walked on paws yet had a human head. The legs were long like an animal’s and bent backwards. It was a woman as her torso reveals rather large breasts underneath a torn hospital gown. I stared at her.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  She said nothing. I began to walk away when it tackled me again. This time, I fought back. I grabbed the creature with my hands, trying to pull her snarling, flailing blows from me. I found the pulse in her neck and sank my teeth in. The flesh felt delicious as the warmth of blood flooded my mouth. The animal still fought me and my feast was short- lived. Although mortally wounded, she still managed to bite me several times on the arm. I flung her down and then pushed my foot on her throat. She squirmed and yowled but I stepped down harder, crushing her.

  As if to pay tribute to her fellow freak’s death, the first creature lurched from the shadows and attacked me once more. I toppled to the ground, pinning her with a knee. I held my hand under her snarling, overlong jaw and lifted her head. I ripped out her throat, taking several hunks at a time, swallowing some and spitting out others. The creature screamed and fought, hands reaching to gather up the ripped bits of flesh as I tore at the legs. Blood was slick on the floor and we rolled and slid, her long nails scratching me. At last, her swipes were weaker and soon she stopped. She lay still in a pool of blood as I limped over to retrieve the lantern.

  I gathered up my wares and proceeded on my way. I hoped that there were no more incidents on my way from the hospital. The blood of the deformities or perhaps “experiments” merged with mine and gave me a new boost of energy.

  Now that I was coated in blood, I had to somehow wash it off.

  I knew that there were baths. Maybe if I could get over to the lunatic asylum, I could blend in enough to find a way to bathe.

  I shuffled down the halls, following the screams. I reached double doors and then another set. At first, I was worried they would be locked, but they weren’t.

  I crept through the halls, fearful that any sound might set off one of the patients, yet they wailed and moaned without knowledge of my existence.

  As I turned another hallway, I encountered several patients. Many of them wandered the halls freely, in trances of some sort. I watched in wonderment as one of them seemed to be sleeping, yet her eyes were wide open as she walked slowly, staring straight ahead until she walked into a wall. Instead of registering pain or waking, up she continued to walk until she was gone from the illumination of my lantern.

  Flashes of faces passed me as I wandered half-naked and reeking of fresh blood, my spoils clanking in the bag. One young lady stopped to stare at me and ran a hand down my blood-soaked chest. She drew her hand away, staring at the blood. She laughed and ran her tongue along her fingers, savouring the blood as a child might savour a sweet. She skipped away singing into the darkness.

  I continued on, peering into hallways, hoping for a basin of water somewhere so that I could make my escape, my ears ringing with sudden howls and screams that penetrated the silence in between.

  At last, I found a washing room. I was elated to find the tub still filled with water. No doubt filthy from whoever bathed last but I didn’t care. Blood needed to be cleaned from this body.

  I s
ank into the tub, blood rising above me in bubbles, mixing with whatever soaps and muck was already in there. The water was cold but it didn’t matter to me. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I’d been.

  A few minutes passed while I dozed, then the lantern light was out. I woke in time to see one of the inmates limping down the hallway, the lamp swinging carelessly from his fingers. Unlike the hallway in the research wing, this one had gaslights mounted into the walls, high beyond any patient’s reach. I presumed they stayed lit constantly as they glowed with a low flame. I wished the flame to be higher so that I could see further in front of me.

  I scampered out of the basin, looking for something to wrap myself in. Finding nothing, I ran naked and wet down the hall. I slipped and slid, using the momentum of water and blood to enhance my speed instead of falling. The gaslights gave him away. Even with the slippery stones hindering my purchase, I was able to close in on him by skating across the floors. Too soon my feet dried off but my perseverance proved triumphant. I caught the thief.

  I grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him high. I plucked the lamp from his fingers and then flung him against the wall. He cried out once as he hit with a thud and then slid down, leaving a bloodstain. Several other patients who had begun to gather from the commotion looked over at his crumpled body and then at me. I waited for one of them to start a revolt but none came. I turned from them and resumed my bath. I brought a cleaner jug of water and used a nearby cloth to rinse off the residue of the scummy water.

  At last I was cleaner than I’d been in some time. Relieved, I looked around the small room for anything to wear and found nothing. There had to be a place where they stored the gowns. I wandered the hall further and found another room where washing seemed to be done. There were empty buckets but there were also many gowns folded in stacks. I helped myself to several until I crafted an outfit that covered me from head to toe. I might have looked like a foreign princess in my mummy-bandaged, tiered attire with puffed-out bustle and half skirt.

  I tore up one robe and fastened a headpiece with a flap that hung down and hid my nose and chin.