The Awakening

Part Two

The Awakening:

Part Two

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

Gotham City

When the boy heard a soft crunch he stopped what he was doing and watched as the small grey mouse shuddered, squirmed and convulsed. The crunch, only he and the small animal he held immobile could hear, was the bone of it’s tiny skull as it was punctured by the boy’s steady but firm pressure on a long needle he had inserted through the mouse’s ear. After pushing it in just a little bit more he let go of the needle leaving it still lodged inside the animal‘s diminutive brain and watched with rapt attention. He leaned in, his nose almost touching the thin shiny metal barb as it moved with the animal’s agony and he heard the weak snuffing sounds the creature made and he watched it’s small furry body rise and fall with it’s last breaths.

It was a slow little death and the boy relished every moment. Blood welled up out of the animal’s ear but only a single drop, like a tear, fell to the boy’s desk. He liked the blood too, it was still warm and fresh, he could smell it‘s coppery tang. He carefully dipped a finger into the spot of blood and traced an outline around the still twitching creature then he rested two fingers lightly upon the soft grey fur and felt the animal’s tiny heart beat it’s last. The boy could feel his own heart quicken as a sense of euphoria rose within him. Nothing else in the world had ever made him feel this way; this elated, this complete. His was a world where he was at his parent’s mercy, where freedom to do as he chose was denied him but this, this moment, this final moment of life of this tiny dying creature… In this he had ultimate dominion.

But, like anything wondrous, even this tiny miracle, it came at a cost. It was his joy and his alone and that was fine with him, he had no desire to share this with anyone. The real price was keeping his secret joy to himself, of hiding it from everyone around him. Pretending that the normal childhood joys sufficed; ice-cream, toys, amusement parks, his parent’s pride and love. These were empty things to the boy, they did not stir his emotions, they did not make him happy, they did not fulfill him like this secret joy did.

But his secret had to be kept and he had to be careful, his parents might stop buying him pets if they found out what was really happening to them. He removed the long pin from the animal’s brain and cleaned it and all the tell-tale blood from the scene with a tissue that he would flush later. He had considered flushing the small body as well and telling his mother that the mouse had escaped but he didn’t want to do that. It would make the experience incomplete, would make it anti-climatic. He wanted it to be found, he wanted them all to wonder what had happened, he wanted them all to flounder in their ignorance. Was it something in the air that was killing his pets? Was it lead in the paint? Was it a virus? Secretly he would smile and laugh at them, basking in the truth only he knew.

Once though, he was almost caught. His old nanny, Mrs. Tully found him about to begin his procedure; it was a hamster that time, and he had been holding it down when she walked in, the boy barely had time to hide the needle but the look on her face told him that perhaps he hadn’t been hiding his activities as well as he had thought. He became much more cautious after that but she had retired soon after the incident anyway. His parents hadn’t found anyone to replace her yet and he hoped they wouldn’t, he was getting too old for a nanny now and a new face around the place would make it harder to keep his surreptitious activities unnoticed.