by Ben Archer
His explanation destroys the last sliver of hope I had for a cure. How could I have ever believed that this sniveling bag of diarrhea weasels could have a way of freeing me? Until the end of time, I’ll be this.
This monster.
“So would you like to slip out of those cuffs for a while? Or are you into leaving them on?” He picks an extremely poor time to deliver the slimy words. I was already struggling to hold the rage back, and his pathetic words land like a sucker punch to the gut.
His hands are busy exploring further and further down my waist. Every slithering finger sends a bolt of disgust shooting up my spine. His hot, sticky breath causes me to bite down too hard on my lower lip. I feel the liquid result leaking from the corner of my mouth.
He’s getting too bold while searching my exposed skin. He eventually gets the bright idea to bite at my throat and joke, “Is this how you do it? You know, when you kill a man.” He walks his spindly fingers down my trembling chest. “Women like power…” pausing on the bone between my breasts, “…and now your life is in my hands. Does that turn you on? What does it make you want to do to me?”
I’m not even breathing anymore. Still he won’t quit, “I know what I want to do to you.” That brief sentence shatters the last piece of me. Several sloppy tears break through my hardened exterior. Not even that phases him, “There have been many beautiful women come through here. Of course, I’ve been with them all. Most have gone on their feet, some on knees, but they all go.” “You understand don’t you?” The devil hides behind that high-pitched voice.
“Now which kind are you going to be?”
I’ve learned several things about myself lately. Most of them involve coming to terms with the awful things I do to survive. They’ve tested the very limits of how far a soul can stretch and still be called mine. However, letting this nasty sack of shit touch me, will never, ever be one of them.
I scrounge up the widest smile possible, while bringing my wrists together. He’s so wrapped up in humiliating me that he doesn’t even notice when I make long slashes across both palms. The delicate skin splits open easily. I have to ease up on the pressure when a nail digs too far in. It’s ok though, I got what I needed. Blood pours out, the tears simply blend in with the rest, and my fake smile never fades.
Twisting back and forth ensures that the slippery liquid covers every inch of my wrists. I can’t see them, but can feel how easily my hands are moving around now. When I think it’s good enough to set me free, the forced grin becomes an actual smile. A confident promise slips out, “I’m gonna show you exactly what kind of girl I am.” His sweaty cheeks burst with a flushed cherry pink. All the hormone-induced courage leads him to abruptly wrap his body around mine. His filthy hands are greedily crawling as if they can’t decide where to start.
I try pulling my hands out of the hovering robot. My slippery wrists slide easily, but still won’t fit through the tight cuffs. Several folds of bunched skin are keeping both thumbs from going any farther. I shift over to find better leverage and he takes it as a sign to attack my neck. The darting tongue makes me nauseous as it moves further down.
I can’t take any more.
I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE!!!
The boiling hatred erases every bit of doubt I had left. It brings me to a place where I would do absolutely anything to be free from the suffocating cuffs. That includes folding both thumbs in and squeezing.
The lethal combination of panic and disgust keeps me going until the bones snap from their sockets. Two loud pops are heard when the thumbs slide freely out of the way. A bolt of lightning-fast pain rips down both arms. It pushes out an unexpected scream that accidently alerts Nick to my not-so-stealthy plan. The sudden cry forces him to drop his lip based assault. My plan might not be a secret anymore, but that’s fine with me. I can easily slide out of the hanging cuffs now.
You would think such a short fall would be easy. I mean, I’ve jumped off buildings. Yet, somehow, this still manages to go completely wrong. I crash down on the floor with the grace of a dead cat. First to hit are my hips, followed by every other exposed bone possible; elbow, knee, head. My entire body has revolted and refuses to move anymore. I lay motionless, trying to convince myself to get going again. Bashing my soft skull against hard ground has turned my body against me. Not even the army of approaching feet will get it going again.
Leading the charge is slick Nick in his gliding chair. Even though my eyes are barely working, I can see his stretched, smirking grin from here. I’m drawn to the whites of his teeth. I want to rip them out.
His obnoxious laugh is, for some reason, the only thing I can hear. Just as his obnoxious cologne is the only thing I smell anymore. My entire world revolves around him. Every nasally breath, clogged pore, and pit stain pushes me past my breaking point; the reasons why are no longer important.
I feel the monster gently creeping up inside. This time it doesn’t snatch control, but settles in like a long lost friend. This is the first time it’s worked with, instead of against, me. His return has contradictory effects ─relaxing me to the point of ultimate violence. Even time can’t escape my unbreakable monster. He slows the world down to a widespread halt. In the time it takes for a bead of sweat to fall from Nick’s greasy brow, I make myself all he can see.
Now he gets to experience real power.
MY POWER.
Everything he thinks he is…
I AM.
I’ve hurt a lot of people and it’s torn me apart inside. This time, with a massive grin that stretches from ear to ear, I’m going to enjoy every second of it. The little coward in the chair shouts for the dirty desert crawlers to come get me. He wants them to put me back in those chains.
Never again.
Before Rat can move a toe, I have Nick out of the shiny chair. He doesn’t act like such a big shot when removed from the false throne. In place of the false macho, he’s become a timid mouse squirming to escape my grip. He uncontrollably stutters and begs for forgiveness.
He says he was kidding.
It was all a joke.
“Most have gone on their feet, some on their knees, but they all go.” I echo the unforgivable words back to him. “Does that sound funny to you? Did it make you smile? Laugh? Because, to me, it sounded like a worthless piece of shit that strips the soul away from everyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with him. Sadly, nothing I do to you today will ever make up for that. There’s no punishment that could ever make up for what you are.”
“But, I’m going to try really, really hard.”
I bring the point home by stomping his nuts. It crosses my mind to rip them off and leave a constant reminder of what he’s done ―what he would have done to me― except I can’t. It’s impossible to keep myself from snatching his skinny neck in an unbreakable grip. I tower over him to make him feel as helpless as I did.
My thumbs squeeze in just far enough to feel the soft tube collapse in his throat. The stench of his fear is inebriating. His tears please my violent monster in ways that are as immoral as they are satisfying. But it’s still not enough. The monster craves violence.
Real violence.
This brings me to the tense moment right before you give into your deepest desires. The one where you pretend to weigh the options, even though you already know exactly what you’re going to do. The only reason I haven’t yet, is to draw out his addictive anticipation for as long as possible.
I breathe the panic in and let it soak into every fiber of my being. It gives a rush of power that unintentionally squeezes my fingers together a little bit tighter. A drop of salty sweat lands on my bloody wrist. It washes a tiny spot of the crimson hand a little bit cleaner than the rest. I raise him high into the air so that I can stare in his coal-black eyes. He needs to see the fire raging inside me.
I want him to see me.
At the climax of his horror, and my satisfaction, my monster plunges fangs deep into him. They clinch tight, feel the rush of vile blood running down my t
hroat, and rip his damn throat out.
Quinn Chapter 10: Where the Light is
A bubbling pool of gore swirls down the floor drain. It takes with it the last breath of a soulless man. The world is a better place without him, so this kill won’t stain like all the rest. Some sins are forgivable. His were not.
Even after the evil creature (I can’t call it a man) is gone, my monster craves more. It needs further violence. All I want is to unhook Hayden and make our escape. All it wants is to taste all the salty treats running for their lives.
I tame the inner beast by concentrating on the pale Hayden hooked up to countless tubes and wires. It sends the monster back to whatever hidden place he calls home. While it’s gone, it doesn’t go far. I can still sense him occupying my thoughts. He tempts me to do the destructive things it wants to do.
The allure of carnage doesn’t make it any easier to sort through the vast ocean of wires and unmarked buttons. My distracted mind is far more likely to kill Hayden than set him free. Fortunately, I know the morons that put him in there. Unfortunately, I’ll need my thumbs to get them back here.
Pinching the floppy thumb between my pointer and middle fingers feels exactly how I imagined it would. I’m already on my knees trying to keep from collapsing all the way to the floor. After several failed attempts to “pop” it back into place, the pain becomes blinding. I can’t even see where I’m recklessly pushing it anymore. I’m just shoving down where I think the thumb should go.
It takes several more nauseating attempts before getting the stubborn finger to, finally, slide back into place. And when it does, the relief is miraculous! Don’t get me wrong, it still burns like fire, but it’s much, much, much better than it was. Repeating the agonizing process with the other hand is easier. Maybe it’s not such a surprise this time around, or maybe I just luck into it faster. Most likely it’s because I get to use an entire hand instead of chopstick fingers.
Whatever. It’s finished.
Completely lost during the sloppy process is the mob that’s moved in to surround me. It’s filled with the sickliest people this side of a graveyard. They’re walking skeletons with no possible chance of stopping me from simply walking out of here… except I forgot about those damn ankle cuffs.
There’s a split-second tingling in both ankles right before my legs are ripped up to the hovering bot. My chin smashes the floor and triggers the monster in a scary new way. The vicious hit causes my body to disconnect, and vision to blink on and off like a slide show. I only get to watch the choppy movie of what my body is doing without me.
My legs are kicking wildly to swing me back and forth on the cable.
Darkness.
Sharp claws sink into the top of the flying disk. They split the thin robot straight down the glowing middle. A shower of electrical sparks fly from inside the break. The tiny bot falls from the sky and suddenly the world isn’t upside down anymore.
Darkness.
The crowd cracks me with several large electric prods. They circle around and manage to pin me down. Their bloodthirsty looks make it clear what they intend to do. I have to thrash violently to fend off the repeated electric lashings.
Darkness.
Everything’s changed. Now, a man begs for his life in front of me. Blood is pouring from the rod shoved through his right shoulder. I’m back on my feet as bodies litter the floor.
Darkness.
Rat’s face is inches from mine. My fingers are straining to keep his rampaging teeth away. His eyes shine pale blue from the V flowing through them. The red tubes are busy pumping the poison that transforms him into this juggernaut.
Messy webs of blood splatter his cheeks.
My blood.
We rip and tear at each other like savage animals in an extended, merciless fight to the death. Desperate howls of pleasure and saliva blast me with every snap of his jaw. I’ll claw at every piece of flesh within reach, and he beats the living hell out of me in return. Shreds of his black leather suit, and my clothes, cover us both. Thick blood coats it all.
Darkness.
I’m yanked up by the leg and everything turns upside down again. Rat is busy destroying my ribs, while I bite at air just hoping to bring something back with me. Nothing stops the rampaging man. Not even the large chunks of flesh I’ve ripped from him. He doesn’t even seem to notice those.
My fingers start clawing their way up his back. They dig in to find something solid, like a boney rib, and climb all the way up until I’m folded into a perfect U behind him. I wrap one arm around his throat and reach the other over to my ankle. The cord and half a droid are still dangling from the cuff, so I wrap it swiftly around his neck.
Once.
Twice.
Three times it goes around.
My grip moves to the end of the rope when it’s secure. Stretching my leg pulls one end, reaching back tightens the other, while his scrawny throat is stuck in-between. His mouth makes the sucking sound of water circling the drain. I release the arm holding me up and use my full weight to squeeze the rope even tighter. He thrashes wildly before finally releasing me. I stretch my entire body out like a bow pulling the string tight.
His windpipe collapses. He does too.
Darkness.
No one’s left. Only the brooding monster, howling at its kill, “COME ON! COME GET ME!!!” It’s still taunting Rat, even though he’s face down with his neck twisted at a sharp angle. The rest of the crowd is a hazy mess of lab coats running for safety.
Studying the disfigured body makes it alarming to see what damage I’m capable of when unleashed. Rat has been made into a jigsaw puzzle with a bunch of missing pieces. Long canyons of peeled flesh and sliced muscles are scattered randomly throughout. As shocking as it is to see, what I’m feeling right now is complete satisfaction.
The cable slips from my hand and clangs on the floor. I’m starting to be able feel my fingertips again. They wiggle as if the sensation is brand new to them. The monster must be satisfied as well since he’s already crawled back to his hiding place. It only takes a few more seconds to regain complete control of my body.
With all the distractions either dead or hiding, I’m free to return to getting Hayden out of the tube. Buried down in the mess is the forearm computer that Rat liked to use so much. It still works, although without a “release Hayden” label, it’s utterly useless to me. I cautiously try pressing a few buttons. They create some random clicking, but nothing helpful. Both my ankle cuffs and Hayden are still firmly in place.
What I need is for someone to do it for me...
By the smell of it, Crow’s still around.
The air from his particular brand of funk still lingers heavy in the air. Actually, I doubt there’s anywhere on Earth he could hide from me smelling like that. It’s so thick that I can almost physically see the trail leading behind an overturned table. The little coward has, appropriately, buried himself in a huge mound of trash.
He wisely decides not to put up a fight when yanked from the rubble. He simply holds up both hands repeating, “Ok ok ok.” I don’t say a word, just point to my ankles and squeeze the base of his skull. Within seconds there’s rapid typing and my cuffs spring open.
“How do I get that one to wake up?” pointing at Hayden.
“I don’t know? Slap him in the face?” the sarcastic-ass answers. While preparing to smack the smug look off him, he shouts, “Wait! Seriously, hold on! You mean the guy you came in with right? Yeah, he’s just passed out. He hasn’t even been given the injections yet!”
“So he’ll just wake up on his own?” I ask suspiciously.
“Yes! He’s all yours!” He franticly bangs the pad and Hayden tumbles out of the steel cage. “Now I can go right?” His voice discovers a new humility. “I did what you want.”
The amount of bodies left behind won’t show it, but I’m no killer. Maybe I am… I don’t know. My state of mind changes every few seconds. All I know is that right now, I’m not.
“Go,
before I change my mind.” Of course the rodent wastes no time in finding another hidden corner to crawl back into. I hope he was telling the truth about Hayden. His shackles may be gone, but they’re definitely not forgotten. Blood trickles from the dozens of holes circling his wrists.
Even his older injuries have not healed as they should. I bounced back almost immediately after the feeding. Why hasn’t he?
The adrenaline hangover makes removing his feeding tube as awful as possible. My fingers are still shaking, and slick with blood, which doesn’t help. Several deep gags come up (all are mine) before finally wiggling the lengthy tube all the way out. My only thought while looking at his pale, thin face is that he looks dead. I’m not sure what to do about it either. I can’t risk giving him any of the blood in here. The only thing left to do is get out of this place as quickly as possible.
On our way out I see all the hidden workers tucked in the shadows. I choose to leave the roaches alone since my only concern now is, “Where did they leave that desert runner?”
Quinn Chapter 11: Moving On
Our time on the road has been endless and nerve-wrecking. The lifeless Hayden has bounced off every hard surface in the compact cabin. I try not to obsess, yet still find myself checking on him after every big bump. Partly from concern, partly from the mind-numbing boredom of being stuck on an endlessly straight highway.
My only distractions have been the countless dashboard switches. This truck looks like scrap metal on the outside, but it’s actually loaded with every kind of gizmo you could ask for. Most of them are still a complete mystery to me, although I’ve managed to start the truck and find navigation, so I’m feeling pretty good about it. Up to this point my plan has been push a button, wait for something to happen, and that’s been mostly successful. There were a few loud noises like I had ejected something from the back, but we’ve kept moving so I guess it was ok.
It doesn’t help that there isn’t a simple radio in this thing. I’ve even resorted to making music out of the rocks skipping off the underside of the car. I’ll speed up or slow down to create rhythms out of the otherwise terrible noises. Anything to keep busy, I guess.