| Chapter Four |
| What is this? I felt so separate from everything. It was a dream. It was dark, and it was cold. There was a room, devoid of any features save a warm body on the icy floor and a small window high up on the wall. A low moan rose from the body in the corner, much like that of a frightened animal. The moan rose, ascending through the subtle pitches of angst and fear until it escalated to utter terror and agony. The voice, presumably human, held this crescendo for approximately five minutes, and gave way to a weak, childlike sob. The wretched creature in the corner was living - or maybe dying - in his mind, which, as any schizophrenic or psychopath knows, is very hostile territory. Every dark thought and harmful intention his soul had ever harboured manifested themselves to exact vengeance upon their creator. The manifestations ate away at the walls he had so carefully built. They deteriorated his composure and his sanity until he projected himself to the waking world as little more than a gibbering child. There were two more people in the room, and I watched them stand over the wailing idiot, conversing, conjecturing from his corner. Enosh and Ray were planning something, but I could barely hear. Everything was coming through filters. "It's never hurt anyone this much before," Enosh mused. "No one has ever been meant to save us before," Ray countered. "How is the other doing?" Great, I thought. I'm just peachy, you bastards. "Well enough. He's not screaming anymore, it seems. The serum has almost run it's course, one could assume." Enosh kicked the form on the floor, and I felt a sympathy pain in his ribs. "Hey, knock that off. He doesn't deserve that. He's done nothing to you. He's supposed to preserve your wretched hide, remember?" "How, by sobbing like a helpless child? What could he possibly have done in his past lives that would make the recall so horrific?" Enosh snickered. "I can think of thousands of things," a new voice entered. Mellifluous. Joy. Why isn't there any light from the outside? The door shut. She stood with the other two, looking down. The body before them was silent now, except for the occasional whelp or whimper. "Then impart your ancient wisdom unto us, youngling." Enosh snorted sarcastically. I wanted to rip his throat out. "If your soul is so pure that none of your lives were painful, then you should be the one to save us, not him," she stated, almost flippantly. "You have no possible way of knowing what he has been through." She walked out. Ray and Enosh shrugged, and followed her through the darkened portal. I almost went after them, called out, demanded answers. Cowardice held me. I didn't want the answers. |
| The irony of numbness is that, once it wears off, the new pain more than makes up for any peace you might have been able to feel. There was no light here. It never shone in my dark place, where I hid from the world. That form, curled up in the corner opposite from myself still howled sporadically. I could feel his fear, and the pain. I saw through this being's eyes. They could not have been human. These visions shredded all semblances of sanity. This entity had long since become accustomed to physical pain, and had learned to ignore it. But this dredging up of the past awakened hungers best left forgotten, and buried deep in the records of time. Knives hidden under waistcoats in dark alleyways in Industrial London, crushed skulls on an old Norse battlefield, syringes plunged into pleading throats in Nazi concentration camps, heads upon pikes in Wallachian death-vales... They wouldn't stop. Children lay eviscerated in gutters, would-be mothers placed bloody hands over emtpy stomachs, while would-be fathers numbly stared in awe of their futility - this was somebody's past. It should have stayed the past. The door opened again, and Ray entered. How long have I been here? My brain wasn't working the way it should have. My perception of time had become skewed; it seemed that I had been here an eternity. Ray was whispering to the whimpering, convulsing form. "Wake up, please. Be stronger than they think, and wake up." For a brief moment there was a light in that too-dark place. Then the light, the hope was squelched and it hit me: this was no dream. "David, stop screaming!" I could hear Ray shouting over the screams of those visions. I was convulsing, my back arched in agony, but the pain seemed so distant, compared with the stench of blood and guilt that flooded towards me from the past - my past. I was pulled from my watching place in the corner back to my own body, and the muffling filters through which I had seen everything were obliterated. Still, I could see every feature of Ray's face clearly. I wanted to speak, to smile, I wanted to tell him I could be alright if they just gave me an explanation, if they could just make the hurt stop. I was pulled back to my own mind, wailing hoarsely, and I felt the real nightmare begin. Too much, this pain is too much. I think I had left my body again. I could see the face of the form on the floor now. It was mine. "Fuck," Ray breathed, sheathing a small blade. He had made a massive cut on one of my arms, and was trying to insert small disks under my skin. I kept howling, watching myself from above, wondering if maybe I could get lucky. Maybe they could let me die. There is no good luck in this helpless world. Another melancholy howl was wrenched from my too raw throat. My eyes had rolled upwards, focusing, perhaps on my floating consciousness. My back arched again, and I saw my hands begin clawing at the cold concrete. I saw Ray wince as he heard my nails begin to snap off, one by one. Ray left me alone, in that dark place, with all the angry souls, and I understood why they always screamed in my presence. I deserved this. Eventually, the screaming stopped. I lay still with my eyes open, staring at nothing now, for I was back in my own body. Every inch of my body felt aflame with an almost tangible agony. It was eerily silent for a drawn out moment. I blinked, feeling the cold sweat and tears fall from my eyes. Nothing would come into focus. |