Thriller/Horror Short Stories

Spotless

Cell 87 had remained uninhabited for 8 days. This time period was peculiar, as this cell unit was one of the most popular in the facility. It usually filled up fast.

The woman, whose name had once been Grace, basked in the emptiness. Sitting hunched over in the corner of her own cell, she glanced around her through the completely transparent walls. In the wall directly in front of her was the feeding hole, where twice a day some arrangement of foods would be thrown in. To either side of her were small holes, smeared up the wall, which allowed her to breathe somewhat comfortably.

Harsh, jerky movements drew her attention to cell 87. A man, dressed in the same all white attire as her, was violently thrown up against the far wall of the cell. Groaning, the man seemed too disoriented to notice one of his suit-covered figures jutting out a cattle prod, landing it straight into his chest. The man convulsed before dropping to the floor, creating a harsh echoing sound throughout the room.

Grace had lost count on how long she had been in her cell for. After being beaten merciless for days, she became a limp, trained machine who no longer ran on instinct but on orders. She had gotten used to the sounds of the defeated, and after taking a short glance at the unconscious man, she closed her eyes.

Waking up to the sound of pounding.

Grace rose to a seated position and looked to cell 87. She wished she hadn't.

The man was on his feet, pounding into the glass and screaming hysterically. His hands were bleeding, dripping red hot blood onto the ground near his feet. Smears on the glass from where his hands had just hit. She wanted to warn him to stop, to stop smearing blood on the glass, but she sat quietly in her cell.

She sat quietly as they came. She sat quietly as they opened his containment. She sat quietly as they held him down, cutting a line across his stomach. She sat unblinking as they cut deep, so deep. Routinely, they pulled out his innards and strewn them across the floor in front of him. One cleaned the glass.

Spotless.

Grace lost track of the time as she watched the man sob, passing in and out of consciousness. The uncleanliness of his cell made her twitch. It must be clean, it must be spotless.

He tried calling out, begging for forgiveness from the Lord and from his sins. Grace smiled at this. You're a sinner, she thought, and you deserve to pay for your sins.

The clean up crew eventually came and disposed of the body. The cell had been a blood bath, with bloody hand prints and marks scattered along the sides of the container. The people stayed quiet as they cleaned.

The woman sat, now in the middle of her cell, with a peaceful look on her face. After all that time, all that noise and blood, she had silence and peace. With a slight giggle and sadistic grin, she noted how much spotless the cell was.

Tucking her hands under her legs, she happily waited for the next victim.

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This is the first of many short stories to be published in this book.  I am the only person editing this, so I apologize if there are any mistakes or typos I missed.  Feel free to comment any interpretations you have of this story, and if you would like a second part!

-Morgan