Catharsis

TWENTY SEVEN

I blink in the morning light. Thin rays of sunshine come through the dirty window. I hold my hand up to the pale light, trying to make myself believe that I'm not down here. Dust particles scatter in the beams, dancing between my fingers. Turmeric. What the hell is turmeric?

"Thanks for that bone marrow," a monotonous voice says.

I drop my hand palm-up on the concrete and lift my head off my backpack. Kaman is standing against the closed door, with his arms crossed. There's a syringe in his hand. He shifts his weight and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Those samples helped me further develop this drug," he says. "It's not a cure. Sorry."

He takes long, deliberate strides across the floor then. Jerking me upright with his gloved hands, he crashes my back against the cinder block. I roll my head against the wall, away from his steely eyes. He gently slaps my face as if he was waking me out of unconsciousness.

"C'mon, now. Give me a witty remark. Spit in my face. I know you want to."

I remain silent. Out of the corner of my eye, the sun glints off the clear solution in the syringe. It should have been him locked in there with me. He should be locked in here with me. That's it. I clench my left hand.

"I hope you're ready," he says, bringing the tip of the syringe to my neck. I bash my knuckles into his forearm. He bends with the impact. His fingers uncurl, releasing the syringe. It clanks against the concrete floor. I hustle down after it. Kaman doesn't even bother to fight me. Grasping the syringe in my shaking hand, I stand and back up toward the door. I point the needle at the inside of my left arm.

Kaman rubs at his arm and straightens up from the blow. Pulling down his surgical mask, he reveals a calloused smile.

"And what are you going to do with that, boy?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I say through gritted teeth.

"Do you want to prove me right? Is that what you want to do? You want to murder me?" He gestures to the tattoo on my arm. "Then what? You don't have a fiancee anymore. No home. No job. You'll be dead before the year is out. Are you going to run home to mommy like nothing ever happened?"

I shake my head and push the needle further against my skin. "I'm going to kill you first."

He gives a bitter laugh and makes a twisting motion around his wrist. "Then you'll kill yourself, right? Is that how you want this to go? That works for me. Kill yourself on two murders. Die a monster, out for revenge. Samantha would have loved that."

My grip on the syringe loosens. He's right. This probably isn't a good idea. I can't believe I'm entertaining this.

"Go ahead and take the injection. It's a different formula and only half a dose. It will be a short stint, but if my theory is correct, you'll transform quickly and retain your human reasoning. You won't be able to bring yourself to kill me through the pain."

The tension in my muscles starts to leak out. I can feel myself loosening in defeat.

"It's okay, you can let me do it."

He holds out an open hand and I straighten up again. "Why does it matter who does it?"

Kaman steps forward. As he pats my shoulder with an affectionate hand, his brow furrows. "Because I'm going to like it more than you will."

"No. I'm doing it this time."

"It's because you think you deserve the pain, isn't it?" He cocks his head sympathetically.

I chew my bottom lip, holding my needle as close as I can without actually puncturing my skin. "It feels good," I say.

"Oh, Aaron." Kaman clucks. He caresses the side of my face with a curled finger. "You're a terrible liar."