Awesome Song of the Day: Feed The Machine by Red
Turn around, they might be watching
And you never disappoint them
Hide your innocence before they see right through
You mustn't disappoint them
You need the danger just to feel your heart beat
You need to die just to find your identity
You need the knife just to know that you can bleed
You need the pain now just to feel anything
We fall in line
We live the lie
Give up, give up and feed the machine
It grows inside
Nowhere to hide
Give up, give up and feed the machine
Give up, give up and feed the machine
...
Wake up, wake up and kill the machine
Wake up, wake up and kill the machine
I kind of chose this song because I think it fits Matthew quite well in my opinion. You'll see what I mean.
I didn't notice the men come into the room and start unplugging Leah. Not until her machine shut off, and I could hear the quiet room once more. The two unknown men did not remove her from her bed. Instead, they moved all the machines away and started to push the bed until its squeaky wheels obeyed, and she was taken towards the door.
I could hear her raspy voice repeating her last words in my mind when her cold unfeeling hand fell from my fingers. Now I was fully awake.
Matthew slipped into the room just as the men took Leah away. His mouth was full of something, which I learned was Chinese food, judging from the take-out box in his hand. He stuck his fork into the food and swallowed. "Hey, chickie."
An image presented itself in my thoughts, one of blood and carnage. Shrieking, suffering, dying. And Matthew has the nerve to smile at me.
He sat down in the empty bed next to me. "Did you sleep well? Usually the kids either scream for their mothers or cry all night."
Breathe in, breathe out.
The smell of orange chicken invaded my nose, in turn making my stomach growl almost painfully. Matthew stopped chewing for a second to glance at the thing that had made such a demanding noise. If I hadn't been restrained, I would have smacked my forehead.
To my confusion, Matthew reached over and unbuckled one of my cuffs. He ignored my inquisitive stare as he placed the take-out box in my hand and swallowed the mouthful he already had.
...Was he serious?
He didn't seem to notice that I hadn't moved. He leaned back a little to stretch his spine, yawning. "I would have preferred pizza, but the group voted against me."
I moved the box to my still-restrained hand, then lifted my free hand to rub at my face. Every part of me was aching. Whatever drug I had experienced yesterday was now wreaking havoc on my muscles and nerves.
Let's not forget the fact that I had absolutely no amount of sleep last night.. I hadn't even dozed off. I was stuck in a state of being nearly unconscious while still agonizingly awake. I say agonizingly because there was a raging storm going on inside me that I could do nothing about while it eroded my bones. The sound of Leah's machine and the icy feel of her hand just wouldn't leave me.
A sharp pang of hunger pains made me flinch. Shut your face, stomach. You want food? Fine. Screw it.
I stabbed a piece of chicken with the plastic fork and shoved it in my mouth. The overwhelming flavor actually managed to distract me for all of three seconds, before I realized that the reason for the surprising flavor was because I hadn't eaten for days, courtesy of my dear kidnappers.
Matthew was watching me again. He seemed to do that a lot, I'd noticed. It wasn't exactly in a creepy way, but more...observantly. He also didn't seem to care whether or not I saw what he was doing. Then again, he had an attitude that blatantly stated how uncaring he was about everything.
Except...he had been acting a bit off lately. Something was on his mind, and I couldn't tell what it was. Maybe he just wanted to go be with his crazy girlfriend. Yeah, that was probably it.
While I met his eyes and we had a short staring match, I got a forkful of white rice, and using my restrained hand, flung the rice at him. He didn't even jump or do anything when the white grains exploded on his face. Honestly I was half expecting him to pull out his semi-automatic and shoot me in the face, but he only blinked and sighed softly.
"I would tell you to act your age, but I don't know how old you are," he said as he used his hands to sweep the rice off. When he noticed me trying to reload my fork catapult, he leaned over to snatch the take-out box from my hands. "This is exactly why I shouldn't do nice things." He flicked a piece of rice at me. "Especially for you."
As I was beginning to glare at him, the door opened and a man came in. He only acknowledged Matthew's existence and immediately spoke to him. "Craig wants to talk to you."
Matthew was still picking pieces of rice off when he stood. "I knew he'd eventually figure out that I was here. Tell him I'll be there in a second."
The man left, and Matthew stretched again, lifting his arms. His back popped.
Of course he had to re-cuff my hand before leaving. He spitefully put a piece of chicken in his mouth as he stepped towards the door, winking. "See you later, chickie."
The door shut behind him, followed by a chorus of locks. As if I would be able to get out of my restraints and somehow find my way out of this place. Looking down at the cuffs that were attached to my wrists, I flipped my hand over to move the few inches that I was allowed. I wonder what the doctor has planned for me today.
So far, I could only conclude that he liked experimenting with drugs of various kinds. The narcotic he gave me the other day hadn't really had a large impact on me, other than making my limbs sore as hell afterwards. I thought it was going to give me much more intolerable effects.
My chest hurt when I took deep breaths. Now that I take a good look at my body under the harsh ceiling lights, I really look like shit. My skin, naturally pale, has a ghostly hue to it. The small hands I see connected to the hospital cuffs look even more frail than usual.
For one second, I remember that I had bought a pocketknife not too long ago and I had placed it in my boot in case I needed it. The faltering hope I had then diminished as I moved my foot around and found that it was no longer in my boot. Why would it still be there? They'd taken my gun too. Note to self: if I get out of here, make sure to get my gun on the way out.
My foster parents had given it to me. Mark and Judy Ledger, happily married couple. They had a son of their own who was younger than me by five years. I hadn't interacted with him very much, for various reasons. Mainly because I was extremely envious of him. I could never have his life, and I could never be like him. There was a kind of glass wall between us, one that defined how different we were. Only I seemed to see it, though.
Mark introduced me to the gun when I was ten, telling me that he would give it to me when I was old enough. He started teaching me how to shoot with it from that day on. It was kept in a wooden box in his room, the top shelf in his closet, the shelf I wasn't tall enough to reach until I turned fifteen.
I took it when I left. He had planned to give it to me when I turned eighteen. I was surprised that he never went to the police about it, or that there wasn't some sort of tracking device in it. He just didn't care very much, I suppose. He had other guns of his own anyway. A whole set of different rifles in the attic, ones that I wasn't supposed to know about, but I was an expert at sneaking around when they didn't notice.
I bet Matthew knew where my gun was. He probably had it tucked away somewhere, along with my knife. The knife I couldn't care less about, though.
At least the so-called 'doctor' Craig had some mental stability. He wasn't doing this because he was crazy, not even close. He did it just because he wanted to. I could see the malicious glint in his eyes when he looked at me, like this is what everyone lower than him deserves.
I hate his eyes. They fill me with anger, a kind that feels rotten and toxic. It destroys me from the inside. His smile makes me want to punch his teeth out and stitch his lips shut so he can never make anyone else so disgusted again.
It's amazing how Matthew puts up with that bag of shit. He can't stand him either, it's obvious. So why does he work with him? He doesn't seem to be concerned about money, so there's probably another incentive he gets from dealing with him. I can't imagine what it could be.
One would think that the concept that I was going to die very soon would be getting to me by now. Either I have very delayed responses to everything, or I just don't care. I choose the second one. I mean, I've been kidnapped,had the shit beat out of me, been drugged-multiple times-, and now I'm in the hands of a deranged 'doctor' who is going to use me as a guinea pig.
And when he was done with me, I would be tossed aside and left to die, however long it would take. I was nothing to him. Just another lab rat, probably only a number on his chart that he used to record his findings. My life was not worth a thing to him. Then again, I considered myself the same as he did.
Who needs self esteem, anyway.
Matthew was the first to come in. I could tell by the look on his face that he was mildly pissed. Again, I was questioning why he put up with Craig the way he did. He didn't say anything at first, just held onto the doorknob after he closed it behind him. Then he stepped more into the room and gave me a murderous smile.
"Unfortunately I have to stay here while Doctor Craig performs his next test," he said in a light voice, sounding elsewhere. He was distracted. He licked his lips and proceeded to move to the drawers, pulling out various things.
More possible hallucinogens? Just wonderful.
Matthew was setting various tools and such on a standing metal tray, his movements fluid and a bit aggressive. "Want to know what he's going to do?" He paused, knowing I wouldn't reply, and continued. "I'm sure you've figured out that he has a thing for narcotics. Well, that's not all he has an obsession with. Things are about to get a lot more...intense."
He pushed the full tray over to my bed, then stood there for a second, looking down at me with blazing eyes. "God help you, chickie."
...God? God help me? What a funny concept. If God was going to help me, he would have just killed me from the moment I was born. I would never have been conceived, never poisoned with the corruption and cruelty of this world.
I had almost become lost in my thoughts when the dear doctor then entered with his handy-dandy binder and white lab coat. He turned on some sort of vent almost immediately, which made an obnoxious sound as it began blowing air into the room. What a nice entrance.
"Is everything prepared, Matthew?" he asked.
Matthew was busy arranging things on a new tray. He didn't look up. "Almost."
Now the doctor seemed to notice my presence, and he greeted me with a nod and some sort of a smile. He came over and wrote down whatever my heart monitor was saying. "Hello, child. Feeling a bit sore? Completely normal. Everyone has that reaction."
All the things in this room that I could use to bash his brains in with. I could even use his medical tools, flay his skin open like a fish and poke around his insides. I bet he wouldn't like that, being the patient for a change.
After all his 'tools' were ready, my bed was pulled a bit away from the wall, and the top half of it lowered so that I was fully laying down. Well, this just gets better and better.
While I was laying there trying to decide whether or not to detach myself from reality, fluids rushed into me. No warning this time, doc? Not very nice of you.
"This one will be more fun than the last," he assured with a grin. He set a needle down. "You won't be able to tell up from down. Feeling woozy?"
Right after he said it, I did. Then came a bit of nausea. Damn you, Matthew, and your orange chicken. Thankfully nothing came up and the feeling faded away within a minute or so. But, then I was free-falling. I flinched instinctively, feeling like the bed disappeared from under me. Like everything disappeared from under me.
I know that Matthew said not to close my eyes because it would make it worse, but I was almost willing to do it as I looked around me. Compared to this, the last drug was nothing. The entire room was spinning off kilter, like some kind of broken merry-go-round. I always hated those machines.
Like the last experience, my heart was pounding rapidly and setting my blood alight with electricity. Except...something was different about this. I was feeling some kind of emotion, almost. The way my hands felt sweaty and I felt cold pricks climbing up the back of my neck was unmistakeable. The drug was somehow inducing fear. How was that even possible?
Something flashed across the ceiling, probably just my mind playing tricks, but it still made me jump involuntarily. Shit, I felt like a squirrel. My body was shaking with tremors that I couldn't control. Deep breath. That didn't help at all.
The hallucinations were a lot more obnoxious this time, sometimes jumping out at me as if they would try to lash out. Everything was just in my face. My ears rang with the horrible noise of the vents, magnified into deep echoes. I wanted to scream and tear my eyes out, followed by my ears. Anything to make this noise go away.
The 'doctor' waved his hand over my face, making me wince and glare at it. What was the point of that?
His voice was muffled and distorted when he spoke to Matthew, who was watching me with an odd expression. "...not yelling...anything…"
You want me to scream? You'll have to try a lot harder than that, doc. All this drug is doing is making me angry. And completely fucking up my equilibrium. He should be thankful I'm not vomiting all over his fancy shoes right now. I probably could, if he moved a little closer.
Before I could consider whether he was within range or not, something caught my attention at the foot of my bed. A figure stood there, one that I recognized with paralyzing sinking feeling. Despite the air and objects shifting around him, he stood unmoving, like a porcelain statue amidst the chaos. His blank white face stared at me with a familiar curiosity that almost made me want to laugh.
But then his form changed, and he seemed to tower over me menacingly. What the hell? What was he doing? Suddenly his chest moved backwards as if something had struck into him, and he picked a tiny object from his suit, one that never made it into his skin.
This wasn't real. This was only a memory, of the time that I shot him at point-blank range, thinking that I could ever hurt him. Just when I realized the falsity of what I was seeing, his form dissipated into the air. He doesn't teleport like that. He's never so messy when he de-materializes.
I wanted to slap myself for believing what the drugs put into my mind. It looked so vividly real, though. Almost painfully.
Gradually more flashbacks began to replay in the room, all from various places and times. I wouldn't be able to tell if they were fake or not, if I hadn't known that I was drugged. My heart clenched when I saw Tom setting his groceries down, turning to smile at me when I had come down the stairs to greet him. His eyes sparkled so beautifully. They were brighter than any Christmas lights I'd ever seen.
The image of him was replaced by my parents, waving goodbye to me after I got into my truck. I could also see my mother, when she had been playing her guitar on her couch and looked up at me for the first time. She was so apprehensive.
Marie's little daughter Anabelle running up to me with her pigtails bouncing, her hair not yet suffering from teenage years yet. Her teeth were still small and had yet to fall out to make room for her adult ones.
I blinked quickly, trying to detour my mind away from these visions. I didn't want to re-experience the emotions that were sealed along with the memories, especially not like this. I couldn't handle it all at once.
After having to watch parts of high school all over again, the girls who chased me and the one boy who stood by me, I couldn't see anything else in the room. Even the ceiling lights were hidden behind the scenes replaying in front of me. Did I really do all of this?
Familiar aching began wrenching its way up through my chest. No matter what I tried to do, I was more helpless than I ever had been in my life. I couldn't move, I couldn't look away, I couldn't block anything out. I was drowning.
A slightly hazy Slenderman appeared on top of me, and I couldn't focus on anything else but his expressionless face. I didn't bother to put a name to this memory, I didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered.
The strength behind this one was almost overwhelming. I could almost smell the crisp scent of morning that he always held. My fingers curled inwards when I felt the traces of his hand slide into mine, and I had the urge to wrap my arms around him and pull us both out of this place, to take us to a world where we couldn't be bothered by anything.
I inhaled as deeply as I could when his face leaned down to mine to deliver the familiar whisper-like kiss to my cheekbone. His form faded away.
All of my senses came crashing back to reality as a white-hot pain exploded in my midsection. Now blinded again by the lights above me, I felt my face tighten into a grimace, and I tried to breathe.
This caused the feeling to worsen, and I had to carefully exhale before I could damage myself further. What the hell just happened?
The 'doctor' leaned over me so I could concentrate on his face. He was smiling as one would if they didn't exactly mean to do something. "You were in your mind rather deep, weren't you? Had to break one of your ribs to bring you back. Can you feel that now?"
He pressed a finger to what I presumed to be the broken bone, because the next thing I did was give an angry grunt and try to curl in on myself. But the only thing I could do was tense myself up, and that didn't help anything. Fuck, that hurt. You arrogant ass.
"Well, now that you've taken up three hours processing the hallucinogen, I don't have very much time to perform my experiments," the 'doctor' said while touching something on the tray beside him. "So I'm afraid we'll have to conduct the tests a bit later. I've got other patients to attend to, you know."
Three hours?...It felt like three minutes. A glance at the clock confirmed what he'd said. I was stuck in my memories for that long? Well, I now have even more reason to hate drugs of any kind.
The 'doctor' left after telling Matthew to tidy up. When the door's locks could be heard clicking, Matthew stared at me for a full ten seconds, then turned and went to dig around in a drawer. Wasn't he supposed to be cleaning?
He came over to the side of me that had the IV and injected something that I didn't even bother to look at. It could literally be anything. After the cool sensations raced up my arm and to the rest of me, all of the fog that had trailed along with the drug was suddenly yanked from my brain. Well, that was much better.
Matthew started his duty of putting away all the unused tools. Now that I was fully awake and alert, I saw all the different scalpels and other sharp pointy objects that were displayed. I couldn't imagine what the 'doctor' was planning to do to me. I mean, obvious things come to mind, but who knows what he was actually going to follow through with.
"In case you were wondering, you were just injected with something that helps fight off the effects of the narcotic," Matthew said nonchalantly while setting things in a drawer.
Was he looking for a thank you? He really was crazier than me. Way to go, Matty.
When he completed the task of cleaning, he went to the side of my bed and pressed a button that made the top half of the bed sit up at an almost 90 degree angle. I would have readjusted myself had my entire internal area not been inflamed in excruciating pain.
Matthew seemed to notice this. Carefully he unzipped my jacket, then delicately lifted my shirt up to expose the bruised area. Because of how thin I was, it was easy to spot the one that was misplaced among the others that were almost protruding from my skin.
Matthew's hands went to inspect the area around the breakage. I had to stop myself from inhaling sharply or making any other noises that wouldn't help anything. Why was he even bothering with this? Wasn't the 'doctor' planning on slicing me up or something anyway?
After a while of less than comfortable probing and poking, the bone was reset and I could breathe just a little easier. It still hurt like a bitch, though.
"That's all I can do for you, I think," he said when he was readjusting my shirt and jacket. His tone was resigned. After a second he shook his head. "I don't know why I bothered. It won't matter later on today, will it?" Black eyes met mine, filled with a mix of things. "Look what you're doing to me, chickie." With an exasperated sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up even more.
I made sure that the look I gave him said 'you're doing this to yourself, not me. I take no part in your insanity.' It was true. I hadn't even spoken a word to him, so I wasn't responsible for him becoming even more unhinged than he already was. I wasn't able to be on the same level as him. I would never be.
It must be lonely up there.
…
Matthew left me for quite a few more hours. During which time I had absolutely nothing to do but count all the objects in the room or make up names for the various tools I could see on top of the drawer across the room. When he finally did come back, the doctor was with him, the latter having bloodstains of various sizes on his normally white lab coat.
Looks like he had fun with his patients.
He seemed no different than when I'd seen him earlier, other than the exhaustion in his voice. "My other patients were more difficult today than I expected. So, in light of that, we will conduct our tests tomorrow. I need some rest. Sweet dreams, child."
He moved past Matthew to exit the room. Matthew waited until the door closed, then faced me. With a faint smile, he chuckled a bit.
"You live to fight another day, chickie."
Instead of staying like I thought he would, just to hear himself talk for hours, he opened the door and left. I was alone again. It was much more relaxing this way, listening to the very soft beeping of the machine next to me. Matthew didn't seem to have a problem with talking to me even though I wouldn't ever talk back to him. Some people were like that.
I think he talked to me because he knew that I was listening to everything he said. I didn't respond because I saw no need to. It wouldn't help anything, it couldn't change the inevitable. Besides, I wasn't really a person to them. I was an experiment, a test subject. Nothing more.
The side of my rib cage was throbbing a bit. That 'doctor' was such an asshole. I hadn't really had any broken bones before, and honestly the pain was nauseating. I could feel the bruise spreading as well.
Not to mention how I was still recovering from when Matthew's psychotic girlfriend decided to attack me. My whole body was more sore than it ever had been.
It's interesting to think of what Slenderman would do if he saw me like this. Unable to move, looking like shit, all my life withering away with each minute. I could feel that my body wanted to give out. I'd gone through worse, though. I remembered falling asleep on the streets many times and thinking that I wouldn't wake up. Everything had felt so heavy.
Sleep began to tug at my consciousness. If I'm lucky, this slumber will be final. No more suffering, no more anything. As I drifted off, I secretly wrapped myself in the memory of the only one who could bring the calm to quiet the storms inside me.
I was dreaming.
I was still in that Godforsaken room, strapped to the hospital bed. When I tugged on the cuffs, they abruptly released me, and I got up as soon as I could. There was no pain or stiffness in me. Quickly I went to the door and tried to turn the knob. Before I could touch it, the door opened and I had to step back in surprise.
Matthew's eyes were eerily glowing in the dimly lit room. Only one light was working, and it was flickering as if it would give out any second. I backed away from Matthew, him stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. The knob melted away onto the floor in a pile of steaming metal.
"You're not supposed to be out of bed, chickie," he said in a scolding tone. He shook his head slowly. "And you were behaving so well."
He moved as if he was going to try to grab me. Feeling energy build up inside, I somehow got out of the way and ran for the tools I saw sitting on top of a desk. The room started to stretch longer and longer until the desk faded away from my outstretched hand. Frustrated at my mind's tricks, I stopped running and braced myself.
I thought Matthew was going to tackle me or something. But nothing ever came, no contact, no weapons being pointed at the back of my head.
Just as I was about to turn around, I felt his presence behind me.
The room seemed to disappear from around us. I could only see darkness ahead, all the noises of the room were now replaced by the cool whispering of a gentle breeze.
Matthew's voice drifted into my ear. "Do you see just how alone we really are?...No one can live here but us. Everyone else can't handle it...they always want to escape…"
I was rooted to the spot by an unknown force. I couldn't move even if I wanted to.
"But there's no escape for us, either...we're stuck here until our bodies give out...and then our souls will continue to suffer alone."
The corners of my mouth twitched up. He will never learn, unlike me. I inhaled to free my body from the glue he tried to bind me in. "You're wrong, Matthew…"
His face held surprise as I turned to him. Even though his eyes were wide open like mine, he was still blind. He would never leave here. He wasn't meant to.
I'd already been yanked from it. "I'm not alone...not entirely. I'm not like you...someone found me, and they won't let me go."
Matthew's face filled with anger and indignance. I was expecting him to lash out at me, but instead he laughed, and it echoed into the air. He seemed to tower over me. "You think they can save you? You think they can make all the pain go away? Let me tell you something, chickie, no matter what you do, no matter what happens, it will never end. Not even when you die. Someone will take your place, and it will start all over again."
His form shifted and elongated, turning into a snake-like body. Before I could react, he coiled himself around me and squeezed harshly, nearly crushing me. I struggled to breathe under the pressure against my lungs.
He started hissing directly into my ear, his voice filled with venom. "You're still alone, and you know it. Just when you start to get comfortable, he'll leave you. He's going to realize just what a mess you are. He'll see what you really are deep down inside, and every little thing that's wrong with you. The list goes on forever, you know."
I would have told him to shut up if I'd been able to speak. But when I tried, only a strangled noise came out. He laughed evilly at this.
"You're more like me than you think. It's scary, isn't it, realizing what you've become. Do you know what you are?"
His normal figure appeared in front of me. His skin was morphing, his black eyes piercing mine. He was changing into something horribly gruesome. His now pointy teeth glinted when he bellowed out a laugh, and his voice was rough and thick.
"You're a monster, chickie, just like me!"
His inhuman form lunged at me.
Tearing myself awake, I would have jumped out of the bed if I hadn't been attached to it at the wrists, so I could only jerk uncomfortably upon regaining my consciousness. My midsection erupted in a burning sensation and I winced. I was unable to relieve the pain, though, I was breathing too heavily.
"Whoa, chickie, calm down," Matthew's voice said through the darkness of the room. My soul nearly left my body.
I looked to my side. Matthew was laying on the extra bed, one arm behind his head, the other touching my arm. The light from my machine casted a bit of light, just enough to see him clearly.
Still trying to breathe correctly, I glared at him. I was too shaken and annoyed to care about anything at this moment. "Stop calling me chickie."
His eyes widened a bit. A smile crept across his face, and he snickered quietly, removing his hand from my arm.
I watched as he rolled onto his side to face me fully with his head leaning on one of his hands. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue before speaking. "Of all the things you could have said before this, those are your first words to me?"
Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Yeah, that was a stupid thing to do.
I shook my head and looked around the room. It was just after midnight, which meant that I had slept for about four hours. Not bad. However, now I was four hours closer to meeting my bloody end. I'm such a killjoy towards myself.
"No, no, don't go silent on me now," Matthew said almost excitedly. "You talked to me. Don't go back to being mute. Do I need to say please?"
Sighing heavily, I glanced back at him. I measured the amount of attention he was now paying me and wanted to laugh at him. "I know it would just kill you to have to say please. So yes, do say it."
His smile got bigger. "Well. Why haven't you spoken before now?"
"I didn't see a reason to. I probably shouldn't even be doing it now, but currently I'm not in a state of caring."
He grunted in agreement.
Now that I was fully awake and calmed, I realized something that was very odd. Matthew was supposed to be sleeping in a room with one of the 'doctor's subordinates. "What are you doing in here?"
"I go where I please, chickie." He grinned at my look of death towards the nickname. "If you don't want me to call you that, tell me your name. And if you must know, the guy I stay with has a snoring problem, and I prefer not to be kept up all night."
Hm. "My name is Rei."
He readjusted himself so that he was on his back once more. He breathed in deeply, staring up at the ceiling. "You really don't like the nickname, do you? Fair enough. You can be the Ray of sunshine instead."
I mentally cringed. I give up.
For a while, we sat in the quiet of the room. At least he wasn't trying to talk my ear off like I thought he would. Something was...off about him tonight. He was acting differently than usual.
Before I could stop myself, I hesitantly spoke. "You don't seem like you want to be here most of the time. Why?"
He responded as if he knew that I would ask that. "Usually when Craig performs his uh, experiments, I assist him with it. Most of the time it doesn't bother me. Nothing really matters, it's just another thing to do." He paused. "But I didn't want to have to watch all of it happen to you too. You remind me of myself, a little too much."
His eyes grew weary. "Craig saw my resistance. Normally he lets me choose whether or not I want to stay, but this time he made me. He's a sadistic bastard who doesn't care about anything. In case you haven't noticed that already."
It made sense. Regardless of whether I deserved it or not, he just didn't want to watch me suffer any more than I already do. I could understand how painful that would be to watch. Not to mention how pitiful.
"You got a boyfriend?"
I had to take a second to keep myself under control and not burst out into hysterics. After careful consideration of my words, I opened my mouth. "That's not your business."
His expressions hardened a bit in defeat. "Fine. Don't tell me. I was just trying to make conversation. I mean, I'd tell you that I have a girlfriend, because I'm open with these things."
"Oh, I know that you have a girlfriend. And she's psychotic."
He let out a laugh, but said nothing more than that. Yeah, he knows it's true. They go well together, I think. Everything is balanced out with their different kinds of crazy.
Looking down at my restraints, I thought about what Slenderman was probably doing. Most likely consuming the soul of some child who didn't know any better and wandered into the woods. He probably wouldn't even miss me if I died. I wouldn't miss me at all, not with all the things I cause. I'm a nuisance, a collectible that no one wants. A broken puppet.
I almost started to sink into my vivid memories of him, but stopped myself before I could. I didn't want to relive with all the emotions that came with them. I wasn't sure that I could even face him in reality anymore, if I ever did get to leave this place. He really should have killed me when he had the chance.
I didn't notice that Matthew had been staring at me until I detached myself from my thoughts and glanced over at him. His black eyes said that he had read everything through mine. Great. I really need to be more careful when I zone out.
Unable to hold his gaze, I glued my eyes to a random spot in the room.
A sigh came from him. "Remember how I said that you were like me? Well, you're also very different. You have something to live for, chickie. Something important. I've got nothing."
I fought the urge to look at him as I heard the hopelessness in his voice. The utter acceptance of the fact that he knew what he was, and what his purpose was in the world.
Some things Matthew did was just a perfect reflection of myself and what I do.
Matthew abruptly pushed himself off of the bed. He reached behind him and pulled something out, holding it up so I could see. It was my gun. I glanced from it to his face in confusion, wondering why he had it with him.
The pieces of the puzzle started falling into place when he pulled my jacket and shirt up to put the gun back where it belonged. After tucking my clothes back down, he patted the hidden weapon against my stomach. "You'll be needing this."
His face lit up as if he just remembered something. He took out my knife as well from his pocket, showing it to me before sticking it in my boot. "And this."
Even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer, I asked anyway. "What are you doing?..."
The way he smiled at me made the realization seep into my skin, weighting me down like lead. "You're leaving tomorrow. Alive, of course. I'm going to take care of most of the security." He reached down and started fiddling with the cuffs on my wrists. "You are going to wait here until I come to get you."
He didn't undo the cuff, but moved on to the other one. It took me a second to see that he had only loosened it a bit so that it was possible to slip my hand out if I pulled hard enough.
Something was still puzzling me deeply. "Why are you doing this? What makes me any different than every other kid who was taken here?"
He looked at me like he wasn't quite sure of my sanity, yanking the restraint from my ankle without paying attention to it. "You don't get it, chickie. I won't take this anymore. I'm not going to watch you live through the hell, not you too. It has to end." He pulled a white blanket out and put it over my legs to hide my freed limbs.
"Do you want to know what he was going to do to you? He told me today, right before he went to his room," Matthew stated absently as if he was only half talking to me. "First, he was going to take out your appendix. Not bad, right? But he wasn't going to use any anesthetics. You'd be completely awake while he cut into you and performed surgery."
He took in a short breath. "Oh, that's not the end of it. Next he would remove your fingers, one by one, cauterizing the flesh immediately so you could still feel everything. After that, he'd pull all your teeth out. Let's not forget about crushing all the bones in your arms, either. One at a time."
His eyes met mine and he searched for a reaction. I wasn't surprised, not at all. I'd heard the screams when I first came here. It takes a lot to make people have that much hate and despair in them, not just being drugged without consent. It takes long hours of unbearable pain to break people like that.
"I've been planning this for a while now," he continued. "Everything was already setting itself up, building the coming explosion. All it took was a spark to light the fuel."
So...maybe I was the cause of the strange behavior in him. Of all the things I do unintentionally, this actually might have an outcome for the better. Or it will end in a horrible bloody mess. I guess I'll have to find out.
Matthew looked down at me as if double-checking what he was supposed to do. I should have noticed that he had a new found excitement when I woke up. It was making his eyes shimmer unsteadily, like he would start laughing uncontrollably at any second. Did I look like that when I had my episodes?
"If you trust me, everything will work out like it's supposed to. I know this place inside and out. Just wait for me to come back. In the meantime, get some rest. You'll need it."
Not staying a second longer, he whirled swiftly and went towards the door.
"M...Matthew," I stammered after him, not completely sure of myself. "Matthew!"
He stopped, but didn't turn.
I felt a strange apprehension, like there was no way to stop him now, even if I wanted to. This was really going to happen. I took a deep breath, though it did nothing to calm my agitation. "Don't get shot. I don't want to have to deliver your body to your girlfriend."
He made a slight snorting noise, turning his face halfway to show me his smile. Then he silently slid out of the room, taking his familiar energy away and closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Okay, I didn't intentionally do this at the last minute. Hush your faces.
I was forced to do things with my family every day this week, barely having computer time. But hey, it's still technically the week that I promised!
I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, or just the break if you don't celebrate the holiday.
P.S. your reviews make me explode into rainbows and happiness inside, just in case you didn't know.