Fredinard

The fog

Trigger warning: This story contains a detailed description of mutilation. If you know, that you are quite squeamish, please do not proceed.

Why does my head hurt?

The pain was intense. His eyes were closed yet the brightness of the otherwise dim light bulb made him wince. He could tell that he lay supine on a hard surface. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a ceiling with peeling green paint.

Where the hell am I?

Casting his gaze over the ratty mattress, stained bed sheets and soiled curtains, he concluded that the place was a royal dump. There was a thick fog in his mind, he realised as he rose carefully.

With shaky steps, he explored the tiny room. As he tried to think of how he got there, his thoughts were momentarily cut short when he stumbled and fell over something. It was somebody’s leg.

When his eyes landed on the mutilated young woman beside him, he jumped back in abject horror. On closer inspection however, he found that he recognised her.

Liz?

Immediately, a flash of memory broke through the fog.

He was talking to Liz again, trying to get her to go out on a date with him.

She frowned, “Dude, what’s that your name again?”

“Fredinard, my dear.”

Her phone rang just then and she moved away from him to answer it. Fred tried to calm himself from the anger he felt at her blatant disrespect. He resolved to tell her that she could finish her call after their conversation but as he moved closer, he heard snippets of her own conversation.

“… It’s just some creepy guy that has been trying to get me to go out with him… Yeah, says his name is Fredinard”

At this, she burst into laughter,

“… I know right. Who the hell names their child Fredinard!… Eeeeew?! I can never go out with him, you should even see him. He’s not my frigging type” She paused, listening intently before she said finally, “Yeah, I’ll see you later tonight love. Bye, gotta let the creep down slowly.”

Fred had left in mortification and simmering rage. How dare she make fun of him, his person and his name? In the public restroom, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He conceded that maybe his serious acne was what Liz found creepy.

Well, she isn’t my type too but I made the sacrifice.

The thought of her laughing as she called him a creep made his blood boil. To let off some steam, he gave an animal-like growl as he delivered a blow to the mirror. Staring at his jagged reflection in the broken mirror, he decided.

She will pay.