Help Me - Version 1

Help Me - version 1

Quiet hung in the air, and weighed on him. He slowly opened his eyes as the scene around him came into focus. His gaze slid past the wall, noting the blood splatter, and silently congratulated himself. Light streamed into the emptiness, as the slivers filled with motes of dust, floating and dancing in the air. The air was sweet with the smell of fear and desperation, and he delighted in it. The floor spoke of beauty, that of the transformation of those who had come before. The cold slab beneath his feet shined with layers of the bloody darkness he created, speaking of his ecstacy. He leaned in to smell the sweetness of her hair, of her skin, of her tears. He breathed in her agony, and smiled.

She looked at him with horror. 'No one will love their mother like you do. No one!' As the words left her lips, he leaned down with the scalpal, placing it lightly on her restrained face. Slowly, he cut away the layers of her skin, first her forehead, cutting until he could see the bone pearing back at him. The scalpal felt like ecstacy in his hand as he peeled away her nose, her cheeks, her chin, ever so gently exposing the muscles. She no longer screamed. The gutural howls came from deep within, exiting her mouth without lips to stop them. And her eyes, the eyes that looked upon him with cruelty and love. He knew that her power, her sheer hate, her love and admiration, all lay in those blue eyes. So he took them. He lowered his face to hers, using his tongue to taste his work. But, he was not done. Deep within, his soul was alive in admiration of his skills. He closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness of her bone.

It was so sudden. He hated when the nurse came into his room so suddently, and without knocking. But they all ignored him. He tried to feel his arms. He tried to move his legs. He tried to speak. But this day was just as the others. His life stolen by the woman following the nurse. This looked down on him, this woman who had doomed him to lay trapped in his body after the car crushed him. He looked back at his mother with rage, and closed his eyes to feel the ecstacy of his work again. He may not move, or talk, or eat, but in his mind, he was not the one being tortured. He could see her horror, and the slow death that she deserved. And the nurse...