The Century Of Longing

Part 3: Anathema

rough draft

Some days you look at yourself more deeply than others. You notice the bags under your eyes from improper slumber, the dry skin over the spot you picked, how your gaze reflects in certain bright lighting. Maybe you peer closer into your soul, reflecting on a situation. Observing the dilation of your obscurity. Regardless of what you see, no matter the insecurity, humanity is a beautiful creation; a being whose differences constitute their unique appearances. Satin, aster, bronze- divergence equally bewitching. If only my first scrutiny upon myself was as appealing, for the girl who leered back at me was sickening.
Her skin was not of humanity, but of a putrid pale profanity; leafless and stripped bare like gooseberries harvested by hungry bears. Flesh carved by firebolts, a plethora of occult contusions; sclera bloodshot, expressing everlasting dolor. Sanguine pours onto the pond of carnality, observing the nature of involuntary mortality. I hated the way the girl in the mirror looked- her body wasn't human at all. Hairless, wounded and smothered in her own filth, she appeared more a demon than child. A feature ignored, her gaze traveled down to my core. What lay against the meat of her heart: a black hole swallowing the essence of living art. Encased in silver metal, the void swirled infinitely. It retained life, strength and power- the prodigy behind her lethal vessel. Silence pestered the man, who gawked down at me in pride. Finally, after my eyes grew tired of the grotesque, I looked to him and said: "Electrified."
He sneered a nasty chuckle, tossing the mirror to the floor. It shattered a dramatic shrill, crumbling into hundreds of star-speckled pieces. I was glad to not have to look any longer, albeit I was curious as to why I looked monstrous. The dog woman was rather lovely in the face, though plain- she looked more alive than I. "You aren't wrong, little rabbit." Father began again, his tone ringing playfully. He leaned back in his modern chair, fingers intertwined against his lap. "You look like you serve a purpose. If you were beautiful, you wouldn't be here- you'd be a useless pound of flesh.. A toy. We need you to appear like the beast you're going to be. There's only one way we can achieve that. Through suffering. However agony serves more than one purpose. Pain ensures your loyalty, your tolerance and your strength. By the time we get to use you, you will be nothing but a shell- a robotic abomination." This time he served a sinister smile, an expression that congealed my cruor. He didn't speak much after that, only echoing what he already told me. My first impression of life outside of the dungeon was nightmarish. Unfortunately as I grew aware, I realized how I didn't want this. Those who carry power act out of greed. Human or not, the wants of man are unyielding; money, fame, war, women, it's all in the same. This desire of man currently was diabolical, preceding average gluttony.

The rest of the day of light ended with a meal, a bath, and a proper chamber. I didn't know how to eat my food properly, and so I ate with my hands like the animal I was. I screamed as the water submerged my infected lacerations, the water running off black and foamy. The stitching and stinging of needles was the easy part for afterward, the Father and his subjects committed unspeakable actions in the form of "testing". It was all worth it to me at the time, my reward being a warm spot to sleep that night. There were no dreams; the blackness of subconsciousness hugged me tightly throughout the slumber.

Marrow arose, knowing it was time to wake when I heard my door squeal, then slam against the metal doorway. I sat up, body shuddering as my sore muscles stretched in effort. One of Fathers pets was standing in the doorway, dressed in all white with a pin sticking into his coat with the name "Kira". This was the first person I'd seen with a real name so far for the others I encountered had the label of animals. Many of them helped Father restrain me during yesterday's endeavors. The tests I endured incorporated pain tolerance, to which I apparently passed. During them, I was afraid that if I didn't sustain, he would be disappointed. Fingernails and teeth were missing, skin punctures, chest cavity injected with burning hot liquids. One of those helping was named "Cat", to which she appeared like "Dog" except for a long fleshy, bony tail that extended from the base of her spine. Another was bipedal, skin grafted over her eyes, bald, and knees bent backwards; she went by "bat". I found them brutally pulchritudinous.
Kira's good treatment was telling. His hair was long and black as obsidian, spilling over his shoulders like falls of oil. His skin was untouched, perfect and clean, gaze reflecting a familiar deadness I saw in myself. He was the most beautiful creation I had seen. I connected with him immediately for the most surprising aspect happened to be his similar age. With gentle steps, he strode to my bedside, lifting his arm to point to the door. My assumption was I had been summoned by the father, and so I abided. We left the room one in front of the other, continuing down that dismal hall until he led me to a door I hadn't seen yet. When he opened it I was in awe.

tbc