(Chapter 9: C7)
Darwin Wong awoke sitting at his desk, right where he had fallen asleep the night before. His head was buried in the same book on abnormal psychology, and his drool had almost permanently glued a page to his cheek.
"Not again," he said absentmindedly as he wiped his cheek of the saliva. The liquid had obscured some of the words on the page, but most of them were still readable. Most of them. Stepping up from the desk, he arched his back, listening to the vertebrae in his back crack as they readjusted to a position that was more livable, alternately yawning and scratching his chest. Getting up and back to the world of the living, he walked into his bathroom. The apartment wasn't one of the best places in the world to live, but it wasn't the worst either. Darwin was proud of it's solitude above all else, near silence in the halls and rooms despite being located next to a college campus. A COMMUNITY college campus he reminded himself, but as the bumper sticker on his car said, "Hey, it's still college."
Shivering for a second as his bare feet hit the cold tile, Darwin walked to the mirror. With his feet slipping out from underneath him, he landed firmly on his butt in a thin puddle of water. He cursed himself, looking to the toilet. One of the feed hoses behind it had been leaking slightly, a spray of water hitting the wall, leaking down and then pooling on the floor. Turning a valve, he got it to shut off. Cursing himself again, he got up and made a mental note to get a plumber in to check it out, then looking into the mirror. Jesus man, he thought, you've really let it go. He was growing a pretty decent beard that was covering up most features of his face, but still it was visible that he hadn't gotten sun in quite some time and that his diet consisted primarily of junk foods, the little sores making themselves prominent on his face. Post traumatic stress disorder, that's what the doctor called it. You've experienced a very traumatic event Darwin, he said, take some time off and relax. Yeah, relax, all the time waiting for the event to creep back up and bite you in the ass again. Never leave the apartment except for classes, always ordering out pizza, never bathing, always hearing the drowning screams, watching their hands pound on the glass, remembering Val shove you into the water. He shuddered as he saw what he had become.
"Man you're ugly," he said, laughing as his image laughed back in the mirror.
Resigned to make some changes, he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of scissors, six inches long, shiny and with a very sharp point. He looked at them, briefly considering running them across his throat and ending it all.
"No, stop it, you're better than this Darwin, just stop it!" he said, closing his eyes and slamming the scissors to the bathroom counter. Music, music always calms the beast. He walked back into the room, pulled on a set of walkman headphones and clipped the walkman itself to the waistband of his pants. Turning the volume up, he listened pleasantly to Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper". As the song began, he started singing along and getting into the music instead of paranoid, suicidal thoughts. Getting his act together and with breath and heartbeat slowed, Darwin looked into the mirror and picked up the scissors again. Using them as they should be used, he trimmed his beard, taking large amounts of hair off of the sides of his face and chin.
Looking into the mirror at a man with less of a beard and more of a misshapen stubble, he cocked a grin.
"You're looking good there Tiger," he said into the mirror, spinning the scissors around on one finger like a gunfighter. With the same hand, he balled up his fist and slammed it down to the counter with the point of the scissors up.
"You bad," he said with mock enthusiasm.
With no warning whatsoever, his feet slipped out from underneath him once more, water making his feet slip across the floor. He watched as the world around him rotated, his point of view switching from looking at himself in the mirror and watching as his eye shot towards the scissors in his hand. Oh god, he thought as time seemed to slow down, it's going to go into your head.
Sticking one hand out, Darwin pushed himself away from the counter, slamming against the wall and landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Not good. The Walkman hit the floor separately, its batteries spilling out onto the floor. Not good.
He looked at the scissors in his hand, seeming more like weapons than items of beautification than ever before. It might be a good time to use something a bit less lethal, he thought. Tossing the scissors to the floor, Darwin managed to stand up and root further through his medicine cabinet, searching in vain for any disposable razor blades. No such luck. The store's too far away and the mini-mart was still closed after the last robbery. As his mind searched through various choices, an obvious one presented itself in a matter of seconds.
"Duh, the vending machines!" he said.
Rooting through his wallet, Darwin found two one-dollar bills and pulled them out, running into the hallway and down one flight of stairs. There stood a bank of simple vending machines, one for Snapple and bottles of water, one with soda's, two that had snacks, and one with various random school supplies. The apartment managers definitely had the students in mind as their audience, and were making a sizable profit off of the vending machines with products aimed at the student body. Between a packet of pens and a deluxe sized pad of Post-It notes was a simple toiletry kit of a small bar of soap, a tooth brush, some tooth paste, and a disposable razor. At one dollar and eighty cents, it was somewhat of a rip-off, but Darwin knew he needed it. Inserting his two dollars, Darwin lined up the letter and number that he would need to press to make the choice.
"C7, excellent," he said.
He pressed the buttons, and the large machine began to work it's magic. The coil of metal that held the items in spun slowly, bringing the plastic packet with the toiletry items inside closer and closer into falling range. Watching as the machine took its high time, Darwin saw a shadow pass in the reflection on the machines glass face. He looked over his shoulder, seeing no one.
"Hello?" he asked apprehensively, looking around desperately for anything that could have caused the shadow. His inquiry was answered with somewhat of an echo from the hallway as his voice bounced off the walls, no more, no less. Shrugging it off, he looked back at the machine and instantly grimaced.
"Damn it!"
The packet of toiletries had tilted forward at the end of the metal coil, but it had leaned itself up against the glass face, almost taunting Darwin. Getting reasonably pissed at the machine, he hit the glass hard. No luck. He hit it again, still the packet didn't fall. He watched inside as his hits got almost every other item inside the machine rattling and swinging, just not what he needed. A small skull key chain swung back and forth, while Darwin simply looked at the trinket and looked back. The skull was smiling, it's deep sunk in eyes seemingly looking into Darwin's own. He shuddered, then going back to the task at hand. He hit the machine harder, the packet moving slightly, but not enough to fall. Well, Darwin thought, this could take a bit of ingenuity. You can waste two more dollars to push the stuff down, or you could loosen it the old fashioned way. He chose the latter.
Setting both of his feet apart to allow leverage, he grabbed the top of the machine. Using all the strength he possessed, Darwin tilted the machine, getting ever closer to dropping the razor into reach.
"Almost there," he said, "almost there…"
At nearly a thirty-degree angle, the heavy metal machine was balanced on two out of its four metal legs. Not intended for such stresses, they started to bend and warp as Darwin edged the machine down even further.
"Excellent," Darwin said as he could hear the packet drop, not knowing that would be his last word. The legs of the machine gave out then, breaking off and dropping the machine flat down on it's face. The last sensation Darwin Wong sensed was surprise, as the machine came barreling down on him, pressing him tight between the ground and it's metal frame. Every organ, every bone, every piece of Darwin was thoroughly crushed by the falling machine. Pens and trinkets mixed into a thick slurry on the ground with human blood and innards.
A sign on the side of an adjacent machine read:
"Warning! Do not rock or tilt! Rocking or tilting might cause injury or death!"
Darwin Wong awoke sitting at his desk, right where he had fallen asleep the night before. His head was buried in the same book on abnormal psychology, and his drool had almost permanently glued a page to his cheek.
"Not again," he said absentmindedly as he wiped his cheek of the saliva. The liquid had obscured some of the words on the page, but most of them were still readable. Most of them. Stepping up from the desk, he arched his back, listening to the vertebrae in his back crack as they readjusted to a position that was more livable, alternately yawning and scratching his chest. Getting up and back to the world of the living, he walked into his bathroom. The apartment wasn't one of the best places in the world to live, but it wasn't the worst either. Darwin was proud of it's solitude above all else, near silence in the halls and rooms despite being located next to a college campus. A COMMUNITY college campus he reminded himself, but as the bumper sticker on his car said, "Hey, it's still college."
Shivering for a second as his bare feet hit the cold tile, Darwin walked to the mirror. With his feet slipping out from underneath him, he landed firmly on his butt in a thin puddle of water. He cursed himself, looking to the toilet. One of the feed hoses behind it had been leaking slightly, a spray of water hitting the wall, leaking down and then pooling on the floor. Turning a valve, he got it to shut off. Cursing himself again, he got up and made a mental note to get a plumber in to check it out, then looking into the mirror. Jesus man, he thought, you've really let it go. He was growing a pretty decent beard that was covering up most features of his face, but still it was visible that he hadn't gotten sun in quite some time and that his diet consisted primarily of junk foods, the little sores making themselves prominent on his face. Post traumatic stress disorder, that's what the doctor called it. You've experienced a very traumatic event Darwin, he said, take some time off and relax. Yeah, relax, all the time waiting for the event to creep back up and bite you in the ass again. Never leave the apartment except for classes, always ordering out pizza, never bathing, always hearing the drowning screams, watching their hands pound on the glass, remembering Val shove you into the water. He shuddered as he saw what he had become.
"Man you're ugly," he said, laughing as his image laughed back in the mirror.
Resigned to make some changes, he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of scissors, six inches long, shiny and with a very sharp point. He looked at them, briefly considering running them across his throat and ending it all.
"No, stop it, you're better than this Darwin, just stop it!" he said, closing his eyes and slamming the scissors to the bathroom counter. Music, music always calms the beast. He walked back into the room, pulled on a set of walkman headphones and clipped the walkman itself to the waistband of his pants. Turning the volume up, he listened pleasantly to Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper". As the song began, he started singing along and getting into the music instead of paranoid, suicidal thoughts. Getting his act together and with breath and heartbeat slowed, Darwin looked into the mirror and picked up the scissors again. Using them as they should be used, he trimmed his beard, taking large amounts of hair off of the sides of his face and chin.
Looking into the mirror at a man with less of a beard and more of a misshapen stubble, he cocked a grin.
"You're looking good there Tiger," he said into the mirror, spinning the scissors around on one finger like a gunfighter. With the same hand, he balled up his fist and slammed it down to the counter with the point of the scissors up.
"You bad," he said with mock enthusiasm.
With no warning whatsoever, his feet slipped out from underneath him once more, water making his feet slip across the floor. He watched as the world around him rotated, his point of view switching from looking at himself in the mirror and watching as his eye shot towards the scissors in his hand. Oh god, he thought as time seemed to slow down, it's going to go into your head.
Sticking one hand out, Darwin pushed himself away from the counter, slamming against the wall and landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Not good. The Walkman hit the floor separately, its batteries spilling out onto the floor. Not good.
He looked at the scissors in his hand, seeming more like weapons than items of beautification than ever before. It might be a good time to use something a bit less lethal, he thought. Tossing the scissors to the floor, Darwin managed to stand up and root further through his medicine cabinet, searching in vain for any disposable razor blades. No such luck. The store's too far away and the mini-mart was still closed after the last robbery. As his mind searched through various choices, an obvious one presented itself in a matter of seconds.
"Duh, the vending machines!" he said.
Rooting through his wallet, Darwin found two one-dollar bills and pulled them out, running into the hallway and down one flight of stairs. There stood a bank of simple vending machines, one for Snapple and bottles of water, one with soda's, two that had snacks, and one with various random school supplies. The apartment managers definitely had the students in mind as their audience, and were making a sizable profit off of the vending machines with products aimed at the student body. Between a packet of pens and a deluxe sized pad of Post-It notes was a simple toiletry kit of a small bar of soap, a tooth brush, some tooth paste, and a disposable razor. At one dollar and eighty cents, it was somewhat of a rip-off, but Darwin knew he needed it. Inserting his two dollars, Darwin lined up the letter and number that he would need to press to make the choice.
"C7, excellent," he said.
He pressed the buttons, and the large machine began to work it's magic. The coil of metal that held the items in spun slowly, bringing the plastic packet with the toiletry items inside closer and closer into falling range. Watching as the machine took its high time, Darwin saw a shadow pass in the reflection on the machines glass face. He looked over his shoulder, seeing no one.
"Hello?" he asked apprehensively, looking around desperately for anything that could have caused the shadow. His inquiry was answered with somewhat of an echo from the hallway as his voice bounced off the walls, no more, no less. Shrugging it off, he looked back at the machine and instantly grimaced.
"Damn it!"
The packet of toiletries had tilted forward at the end of the metal coil, but it had leaned itself up against the glass face, almost taunting Darwin. Getting reasonably pissed at the machine, he hit the glass hard. No luck. He hit it again, still the packet didn't fall. He watched inside as his hits got almost every other item inside the machine rattling and swinging, just not what he needed. A small skull key chain swung back and forth, while Darwin simply looked at the trinket and looked back. The skull was smiling, it's deep sunk in eyes seemingly looking into Darwin's own. He shuddered, then going back to the task at hand. He hit the machine harder, the packet moving slightly, but not enough to fall. Well, Darwin thought, this could take a bit of ingenuity. You can waste two more dollars to push the stuff down, or you could loosen it the old fashioned way. He chose the latter.
Setting both of his feet apart to allow leverage, he grabbed the top of the machine. Using all the strength he possessed, Darwin tilted the machine, getting ever closer to dropping the razor into reach.
"Almost there," he said, "almost there…"
At nearly a thirty-degree angle, the heavy metal machine was balanced on two out of its four metal legs. Not intended for such stresses, they started to bend and warp as Darwin edged the machine down even further.
"Excellent," Darwin said as he could hear the packet drop, not knowing that would be his last word. The legs of the machine gave out then, breaking off and dropping the machine flat down on it's face. The last sensation Darwin Wong sensed was surprise, as the machine came barreling down on him, pressing him tight between the ground and it's metal frame. Every organ, every bone, every piece of Darwin was thoroughly crushed by the falling machine. Pens and trinkets mixed into a thick slurry on the ground with human blood and innards.
A sign on the side of an adjacent machine read:
"Warning! Do not rock or tilt! Rocking or tilting might cause injury or death!"