Pain Paid in Kind

Oh my God, the pain. It's almost unbearable. It's eating at my skin like an infectious parasite, clawing at my bones, and ripping through my organs. I can't even breathe. I knew I should have watched how I recited my number. 34115. I could have avoided this agony. Why won't this gas kill me already?

I've almost become accustomed to this room. They call it the Hole. I've been here so many times before; it's almost too familiar to me like a second home. The cold, hard tiles are jagged shards of ice beneath my quivering feet. The walls which shrink by the second are stained as black as my lungs by the gas. It travels through those long corroded pipes along the ceiling. It travels down the wall and out the end near my face where it burns my body and puts its invisible hands around my neck; choking the life out of me.

I'm only supposed to be in here for 30 minutes by camp regulation. Jennings knows the rules as well as I do. But he wants me to suffer more than anyone else. He wants my very will to live smothered away by pain and torture. He leaves me in here for hours at a time hoping that when he comes back, I'm so close to death that he can taste the decay through that cold ominous mask.

I don't hate him for it though. Hate is a word for the pussies who think they could do something about it. No, I don't hate him. Instead, I loathe the one who gives him his next breath, I wish to that being in control of his miserable existence to take his every fiber of his presence and obliterate it one by one. Then that very same God can do it to himself.

After that long hour of agony, Jennings returned only out of fear that the warden would see how long I've been in here. That sniveling guard turned off the gas valve and slammed the door open. As he walked towards me, he patted his hand with his night stick. I knew what was coming as well as he did.

He grabbed my matted hair and twisted it as if to pull it out of my scalp. Suddenly, I felt numb across my face as he smashed my checks from left to right with that fucking stick. My vision blurred and my legs were no longer functioning.

As I fell, the guard grabbed my beaten skull and cracked it against the wall. It felt like my skull fractured into millions of glass shards. That unbearable pain stabbed my brain with its dagger. My consciousness began to fade away from me again. Was he going to let me dream again? Was he letting me off this easily? No, I didn't think so. He grabbed me by my scarred neck and shook me awake.

I stared at him with dazed vision. I knew he was smiling through that damn gas-mask. I've come to know him quite well. Jennings brought me close to his faceless head and I could hear the muffle of his filtrated air. I saw him reach into his pocket. And what he pulled out, I would never forget.

"You know what this is don't you worm?" he snarled, "That's why I left you in here for so long. It's your birthday present! I hope you like it."

He flicked the igniter for the lighter. The flicker grew in my fearful eyes. My vision was consumed by the dancing fire. It taunted me as it bobbed up and down and flickered from side to side. It knew no mercy, it wouldn't feel bad about scorching every inch of by body. I'm the only person who is going to feel anything. He laughed at my fear and quickly threw the flame into my face. My face was soon engulfed in the arms of hell.

I could do nothing but scream. It ate through my already blistered skin. Its fiery teeth sunk in to my very bones. The stench as it burned was the last thing I remember before that peaceful blanket of darkness covered my torment. Happy Birthday to me.

I awoke back in my prison to the loud crackle of gunfire. Perhaps another prisoner who thinks he's man enough is trying to escape. It doesn't matter how fast you think you are. You're not faster than a bullet to your brain. Speaking of which, I'm surprised mine is still functioning. Anyway, the sounds grew louder and soon, uproar of prisoners drowned the gunfire out. What was happening?

Suddenly as the chaos started, a tidal wave of prisoners swarmed through the camp as a number of men holding rifles were unlocking our cages. Who are they? Why are they freeing us? Soon, my gate was opened and a masked figure approached me.

"Can you fire a rifle?" He asked.

I could not speak through the enormous swelling in my throat. Could I fire a rifle? I can hardly see through the scarred tissues of my eyes. Despite my physical difficulties, I nodded my head and gave a grunt somewhat of a yes. With that, he threw me a firearm and ran out. As I caught my new toy, the cold feel of the metal buzzed the palm of my hand, cooling the burning sensation. I now had a score to settle. I cocked the weapon and ran out of my filthy pen. In front of me about 40 yards was the guard depot. Ready or not here I come, Jennings.

I smashed in the door with the bottom of my foot. The wood was nothing more than paper as it gave way under the force of my anger. You can't hide from me. I raised my rifle and aimed it upon the shadows. I know he's in here. That coward won't come out and fight me, so I'll just find him.

I can taste the vengeance upon my charred lips. Into the main office I barreled my way. The lights were off, but that wasn't a problem. I can smell him. The sent of cheap booze and medical supplies filled the room as if it were a light leading me right to him. As I walked towards the desk, I saw his feeble body in the fetal position under it like it would actually save him. Let's have some fun.

"Gee, should I recite my name again for you sir?" I taunted with a gruesome raspy tone, "34115!"

There was a ruffle under the large oak desk. I could sense his fear. I stomped my foot into the ground with all the force I had.

"Was that too goddamn slow?" I yelled.

I slammed the butt of my rifle into the desk and flipped it on its side, revealing my hiding tormentor. I will make my pain his. My misery his own. He brought upon the wrath of a thousand hells. I shot his leg from point blank range. The splatter of blood and the snap of bone echoed through the room.

"C'mon talk to me! WAS THAT TOO GODDAMN SLOW?"

I lowered the rifle towards his right leg. He screamed in agony as I pulled that cold, unforgiving trigger. Yes. I love it. I beat his skull into the floor with the butt of my weapon just to hear him scream some more. I want him to plead for his pathetic life the way I did for so long under his tyranny. I took his mask and placed it aside. I want to see the face of my devil. I want to watch him suffer face to face. His face was that of a mere cowardly man. His cheeks were chubby and his hair was balding. His eyes were watering in pure terror.

"P-please! I'm sorry! DON'T KILL ME!" he screamed.

I stuck my disfigured face right in his, "Kill you? Is that what you think I want to do? After all the good times we had?"

I grabbed the knife from his security vest and stabbed his side. I wrenched the blade in then back out. I will kill you. But I want to enjoy it. I firmly secured him to the floor which soon became stained red with his blood as I lightly sliced across his major veins and arteries. I didn't get an A in anatomy for nothing.

Finger by finger I dismembered him smiling as I did so. I could see the life bleeding out of him. He didn't have much longer. His screams got softer and softer until he had only enough energy to breathe. I placed my face right next to his and began to whisper,

"My name was Thomas."

With that, the one person in my life that I knew so well, died. But he wasn't the only one. On this day I died as well. Thomas Allen was no more. Only 34115 remained.

I took the god-awful mask off the floor and placed it over my burned face. I want those who cross me to feel the torment as I did. I want them to see the face of death. I stood up off the blood-soaked floor and walked back out into the cold grasp of the night. I guess now I will meet with whoever let me out of my hell. They've just unleashed a beast…