Burlap

38 - Mother May I

It surprised me when my swollen eyes actually opened, greeted by the rather depressing, grungy sight of the dilapidated ceiling. Black mold spread across several cracked tiles, bringing out my inner prissiness as I screwed my face up in disgust, first thing. Oxygen flooded my starved lungs in the next second, and my chest inflated greedily, sucking in as much air as I could. My neck hurt, bolts of aching pain shooting through the delicate skin there. For a moment, I wondered if Power had somehow ripped my throat out in physical form also, but the memories of Shilling’s hands around my neck resolved my inner concerns about that.

The violent banging sound coming from the exit door seemed more frantic than before, accompanied by the rattling of loose screws and jarring echoes of each impact. The sound nearly went unnoticed by my ears, it’d been going on for so long.

My head flopped to the side, my blurred vision clearing more bit by bit, until everything slid mainly into focus. The shining black blobs a few feet away from my face connected to a taller column blob of white. I blinked hard, forcing clarity in my sights. The blobs sharpened, revealing polished black shoes and a long white doctor’s coat.

Shilling. How could I have forgotten that I hadn’t won the last round? Of course, I hadn’t killed him. I’d been weak and unsure of myself. A new sense of confidence surged through my veins, leaving no room for the usual timidness and uncertainty I always seemed to find myself dwelling in. My eyes flicked up, taking note that he no longer faced me. Garbled, unclear words poured from his lips as he threatened Marcie, who cowered in the corner while screaming her lungs out. He had no idea I was alive still. 

A slow smile spread over my chapped lips. 

My senses returned to me, hazy at first but sharpening quickly, as I rose to my feet. Marcie’s lone eye darted to me, wide and terrified. I lifted my pointer finger to my lips, pressing it there and shaping my lips to form the universal, “shhh” sign. Her alert stare returned to Shilling, who laughed at her quakes and whimpers. I imagined his blood pouring through my fingers, a single fatal slice to his jugular. A pleased moan caught in my throat, only stopped by the knowledge that I had to keep my silent advantage secret.

Despite the situation, I took a moment to assess the strange sensations coursing through my body. Where I’d always felt weak and flighty before, only a sense of determination and duty remained, driving me with a defiant force that settled foreign to my very soul. My bones seemed heavier, anchoring my willpower down to a solid desire to complete my mission, my purpose.

“Kill them all,” the scarred man had said. While I still struggled to fully comprehend what “all” encompassed, a strong instinct making itself at home in my body screamed at me, not to obey necessarily, but that his words had been right.

My brow furrowed as I fought to understand the new way my body and mind seemed to be acting. To obey and endure, my motto, my way of life, seemed so unbelievably wrong now in the midst of what replaced that tried and decidedly untrue aphorism. A newly formed intuition led me, whispering in my ear to observe and act. Make my own decisions, and rely on myself. Trust myself, like I did on the trapeze or the tightrope. I needed no safety nets to perform, and I needed no safety net to live. 

“You’ll die here,” Shilling hissed, stalking toward Marcie, the bone saw gripped tight in his hand. “Your corpse will be here forever, and when your snob of a mother asks about you, we’ll just tell her you and your new friend Kate sneaked away, never to be seen again after your mysterious escape. You see her dead body?” he continued, gesturing back at me without turning to see me. Marcie glanced up into my unwavering eyes, searching for reassurance and safety through her uncertainty. “Your’s will be just like it, in this room forever.”