The last thing he remembered was following Baby's instructions down in the facility. Well, the very last thing he remembered was the stinging, burning pain spreading like fire across his abdomen. But the last coherent memory was baby. What did she do to me? Was it her? What happened?
The next thing to hit Mike was the static in his head. A piercing, mind-numbing migraine burned from temple to temple. Too much thinking, right now he was in survival mode, answers will come later.
Leaning against what he could only assume to be a streetlight, Mike took a moment to collect his strained breathing. Every breath caught in his throat, the cold night air scratching against his bleeding gums and mutilated sarcophagus. He couldn't tell if he was on the verge of vomiting or suffocating in a coughing fit, but he fought off both urges as he gasped for the painful vitality of air.
He was led somewhere. Somewhere he was never meant to be. He remembered a dark room, empty husks of machines that led him to this fate. He never should have been down there to begin with. It should have been William. His father couldn't look his own mistakes in the eye. whether it was an act of cowardly remorse or prideful apathy Micheal did not know and had no interest to find out. All he knew is that he was handed the burden of another man's sin in a vain attempt to repent for his own.
He attempted to stand up only to be denied. The vomit could no longer be fought off, as it climbed up his serrated throat and made a puddle on the concrete. Mike winced, on the verge of tears from the stinging pain in his throat. His mouth tasted of blood, bile and…frosting? Did he eat a whole tub of frosting? This thought was substantiated by the milky greenish pink puddle of vomit.
A few minutes later and Mike had found his footing, stumbling towards his apartment. He seemed to have all his possessions and hadn't left town, so things could be worse. On the slow shamble home more details returned to him. There was a…monster. Some kind of mechanical Frankenstein, its body a contorted mass of wires and motors only loosely imitating life. It had spoken to me, the way baby had. Was that her? Was that Baby? He knew deep down that that wasn't her. Baby may have been a piece of that creature, but it was something beyond what he had seen before. It held a dark ambition, a unique sort of desperation coming from its voice.
"We've gotten out before. But they put us back. They always put us back," it stood in the shadows, away from poor, helpless Micheal "There is nowhere for us to go when we look like this. But if we looked like you…,"
As Mike stood at his door, fiddling with keys in his shaking hands, it finally came back to him. They, it, had taken him. Used him somehow. Ripped his own mind away from itself and used what was left as some puppet, and human mask to hide the truth.
As soon as he made it in the door Mike dropped his jacket to the floor and nearly ripped his shirt off his body. Mike ran to the bathroom, or did the closest thing his body could do to run. Staring into the mirror, he looked down at the 14-inch gash running from his left pelvic bone up his stomach. It was sealed but only just barely, its only treatment looking to be office staples and natural scabbing. His stomach concaved into his abdomen, and his ghastly pale flesh held tight to his ribs. Mike's eyelids were bruised and his lips were blue, and he lost no less than fifty pounds in fat and muscled. He looked like a corpse, he looked dead. But he wasn't. He was there, standing in his own bathroom, a discarded husk not given the decency to be disposed of properly. Mike wasn't sure when he did it, but he ended up in his bathtub. The water wasn't running, he just sat there in his porcelain coffin. Why wasn't he dead? There had to be something left for him to do. He needed to make things right. He needed to undo all of this. That is what he needed to do. He thought back to his father and began to smile. He needed to find him. Put an end to him, His brother was right about him. He was a monster and now it was Micheals's job to put him down, to let his brother know that he was right and that wherever he was he could rest because big brother Mikey took care of it and he is sorry for everything.
"I am going to come find you…" Micheal whispered to himself as he fell asleep in the tub. His mind was made up. He was going to find his father, and he was going to kill him.