Decalcomania

Chapter Two - pt1

                                     - Who is he?-

Between the cursed thick metal bars of the dark cell, no doors, no windows and no way out, trapped on the hands of four milky walls, shadowed with dirt and tattooed with the fingerprints of its guests. There sat the young man of the room 418, on a hard metal bed tray, staring aimlessly at the sink in front of him, drops of sloppy water following each other to the deep end. He could hear nothing but the unknown voices in his head, all of them talking at once, making the sense impossible to be reached; his body feels numb as if it is nothing but a burnt corpse, but still, he could feel the bitterness of their touches here and there, fresh purple blue marks marked all over his skin, along with traces of shame and cluelessness. He had been in the cage for as long as he could remember. they had visited him two times a day. Never to talk or help. All they ever did was inject him with that serum or play with his young fresh body as they pleased. He didn't care much, or in fact, he wasn't aware of anything around him, he just wanted to be released from the last proofs of being alive. Darkness was nothing but a home, where he could hide from them, from himself, and as he thought from the demons that were chasing him, stealing his memories. He wanted to save that one last memory, the memory of his beloved mother, the only thing he still can put a grip on in his shattered head.

That was the case of the little boy, Alvin Noah Fuller...

The case of the fourteen years old boy who had arrived to the Juvenile Detention Centre in chained bloody hands, swollen puffy eyes and chapped dry lips. Biting his bottom lip over and over again, as he scanned the gates of his new home opening its arms warmly, welcoming the new young victim. He had no idea why he was there, being aggressively pulled inside the room by the old man, he sat on the chair calmly, tapping his feet on the floor repeatedly. He was waiting for his mother to show up and clean his bloody dirty hands, the red color of the blood scared him and caused a hit on his stomach. But instead, a lady younger than his mother walked inside steadily, dressed in a white blouse, she looked nothing like his mother, but everything like those villains he used to watch in cartoons. She knelt in front of him, analyzing him from head to toe, lust shinning in every way on her dark black eyes, she ran her hand over his hair, his face and then shoulders, violently grasping his arm and grinning evilly.

"Welcome home, young man!" her voice was that powerful to cut all the cords of feelings in his soul.

They dragged him in a hostile manner towards the dark room, where they stripped him, disinfected and subjected him to a very thorough inspection to make sure he isn't smuggling anything into his new so called home. The poor little boy didn't know what's going on, he just obeyed their orders, hoping to get a bar of chocolate or a piece of candy as a reward for his good manners. He thought his mother will be proud when she hears how of a good boy he was.

There he stepped inside his room, watching it corner by corner, it wasn't as beautiful as he had expected. They placed him on the cold bed and uttered senseless number of letters, rules they said, he couldn't hear anything but the beginning of insanity knocking his brain. He giggled in a moment of sudden, leaving the monsters before him smiling wildly at the sign of insanity.

Gently he felt the sting on his arm, a liquid of death moving in his veins, spreading all the way to his brain, and at that very moment, he could feel the taste of no feeling, all his organs shut down at the arrival of the strange liquid. He could no more see, hear or breathe.

The little boy met his beloved friend, a liquid, that can make the pain go away, a liquid, that had a magnificent power to take all his dreams, worries and thoughts away.

The little boy was relieved to meet such a friend, at such a time, in such a place.

Little boy was scared to be forgotten by his beloved mother.

Little boy woke up every single day to be tortured and beaten by those people, there were days when he enjoyed being tortured, it felt good, to the extent that he wanted others to feel it too.

Through the nights, when the sun is no more around to scare him, he would grab the tiny sharp object he stole from the old man, and use it to cut every living part of his skin, the scenery of the warm blood dripping over the floor made him satisfied and content. And it became one of his favorite hobbies. Until the day, his skin had no more space for more cuts, and the old man's neck looked so fresh and captivating for the sharp object. Alvin had no intention to follow his sick brain and cut every inch of the wicked man's neck. But every word that came out of their mouths triggered Alvin's senseless head and led to an ocean of blood and a giggly boy.

He was later transferred to the asylum and reported to be officially insane.

years passed by, like an old flash playing a movie before his blank empty eyes. The cell was no different than the one he was in before, still the milky walls painted with grime and desolation, and the air hard to swallow. He was still sitting there, serenely, staring at the ceiling, haphazardly, and breathing, quietly. Nothing changed but the physical appearance of the little boy who grew older to a man, a man with no feelings, no memory and no hope.

He heard the click-clack sound of her heels echoing in the dark halls, step by step, getting closer to his room. He knew, it was time to draw portraits of disgusted on his skin, he could hear the longing in her walks, she wanted him, and just the thought of it made his lips form into a sickened smile.

There she was standing in front of him, grinning evilly, well dressed and perfumed, her perfume suffocated him in so many ways that can't be described.

She held that drug between her long fingers, ready to put his body to sleep and play with it as she pleased. As expected, the body was now paralyzed, and her hands found their way to his honey messy hair, drawing her index down his face. Maybe his body was numb, but he still could feel her cold finger passing by every corner in his body. He knew, she liked him, because he was different than the other patients, he was calm and spaced all the time, oddly, she found this sexy and attractive. Let alone, his seductive appearance, He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks, sharp jawline that could cut your gaze into million pieces, his eyes were mesmerizing brown chocolate balls, He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His face was defined and intense and his body was muscular and thick, a firm chest and abdomen, strong arms and a graceful neck with a deep collarbone and greenish blue veins. He's the kind of guy any girl fantasizes about.

She, and every woman in that haunted place, wanted him, they couldn't resist him. He, in the other hand, didn't care about any of them, he just wanted them to finish their stress relieving and leave him alone. But sadly, the definition of love was no more a nice thing to him, he thought what they did to him was love, at least that's what they convinced him.