Devour

Chapter 10 -Pasch

I am so mad. I hate Errol. I hate him. He took my music and he's thought about killing my cats, Cora just stopped him. She said they'd find them homes they CAN'T. I love my cats. I love my music. They took away everything I love I HATE them.

I want Errol to have the worst dreams and the worst headache in the world for taking all my CDs and wanting to kill my cats. I hate him. I hate him. I wish he'd burned up died.

I search way down in his brain for a painful memory. Something he tries not to think about. Not the fire I always go to that. Something new.

"Why would you do that?" Jameson handed me a handkerchief to wipe my face. Blood was still pouring from my eyes and nose, and filling my mouth. I felt so dizzy.

"They were hurting them," I said, quietly, blood dribbling down my chin, "I know they told me not to, but I just wanted it to stop."

"They know you're here now. You were just supposed to gather information, mate," he said. He was my handler, and over the past couple of years he'd grown to like me a little. I thought. Now he was mad at me.

"If that means you have to kill me that's okay. I just don't know how you'd do it," I mumbled.

"We're not---we're not gonna let them know. I mean, I don't know. I don't know what they're gonna do now-----why couldn't you just read their minds? And tell us what they were gonna do that---that was helping."

"Isn't it helping that they're gone and not shooting anybody anymore?"

"Yeah um---kind of, it's also bad because you aren't supposed to be weaponized."

"I weaponized my fucking self," I said, staring at the completely bloody cloth in my hand. "Do you think I'm going to bleed out?"

"I don't-----they said they'd get you a doctor later. I'll ask again-----I don't know. I'm sorry, Errol," he said.

"I'm sorry you're in trouble---you're just sad now. I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"I'm not----I'm not mad at you. I'm worried I----this is a big problem, okay?"

"I wanted it to stop," I mumbled, lying my head down on the table.

"I know---mate----I know you did but-----do----do you even know how many people you killed?"

"Probably a couple hundred I don't know, just every time I found one that wasn't in English I made its head explode. So, can we go home now?" I asked, "I'd rather die in England if it's the same. Before you said they might give me things since I do things for them and I killed them all for them."

"Oh my god, Errol you don't----'

"Wasn't that the point?"

"War is very, very complicated we don't----I know you were trying to help. Look let me, get you something to drink you need water, you're bleeding that much---just stay there," Jameson got up and locked the door. I closed my eyes and listened to him outside. It hurt a little but everything hurt and I didn't care anymore.

"Did you talk to him?" that was one of the Generals people I didn't know. They liked shocking me and the notion that they could shock me when they liked.

"Yes, he did it, there's no question; he thinks he was helping."

"HE THINKS HE WAS HELPING??"

"Yes, SIR, because he's seventeen and was raised in goddamn cage and the first person who showed him any kindness told him these were bad people he thought that killing all of them was helping, when you put it like that, the only way he knows how to put it, that makes sense, doesn't it?"