by Jeff Gunzel
“The true problem is that you’re not enough of a killer. Not yet, anyway. Not like your brother was.” Her eyes snapped open at the mention of her brother. “But we are going to fix that starting today. It’s not that you aren’t strong enough. It is your mental weaknesses that must be addressed before greatness can be achieved. Weaknesses such as this.” He turned over his hand, exposing his wrist under her nose. She glanced at it curiously, not understanding the odd gesture. He motioned towards Diovok, who in turn waved his hand ever so slightly.
A burning hunger exploded through her. So fierce, so desperate, the sudden need was nearly enough to break her. It was like craving air while having her head held underwater for five minutes, her lips with only an inch from the surface. So close to the thing she needed most, yet unable to attain it.
Her red eyes flew wide open, and her mouth began salivating like she was a starving dog. Staring at Kuuma’s wrist, she watched its pulse, rising and falling with a rhythmic beat. Dancing to unheard music, she could actually hear the sweet nectar whooshing through his veins, calling to her. Her whole body flared with urgency, a need so ferocious it couldn’t be contained another second. A single drop was worth her own life if that was what it took. There was no judgment, reasoning, or coherent thought. Only need. Mouth snapping open like a tiger, she lunged, intent on draining every drop from his body no matter the price.
As if being struck by lightning, her body jolted with crackling energy. Stunned, paralyzed in the middle of her leap, her limp body thumped against the sand. Twitching, convulsing, she flopped about in anguish. Suddenly it all stopped. The pain, the insatiable hunger, all her senses returned to normal.
Rolling back to her stomach, she wiped the drool from her mouth. For the first time, she realized how substantial the collar’s suppression truly was. Yes, it suppressed her abilities of speed and transformation, but it did something else as well. It controlled the hunger. Without it, she was little more than an animal, a wild beast whose needs were driven only by primal instinct. She was, in fact, everything they claimed she was.
“Now do you understand?” Kuuma asked, rubbing his wrist, possibly wondering what might have been had Diovok not reactivated the collar in time. “This is just one of your weaknesses, one you must learn to control. Unfortunately, as far as we have figured out, this is not the sort of knowledge that can be gained by instruction. This thirst of yours is a byproduct of mixed blood that was never meant to be. Since no amount of willpower can ease these urges, your physical body will have to be transformed at a much deeper level. It must be distracted, then forced to accept that change.”
The others had drawn close now, moving in cautiously, not sure if they were even allowed to be part of whatever this was. But Kuuma didn’t seem to mind the curious audience. His casual stance was inviting, as if he wanted them to watch. Two pairs of guards emerged from the dark tunnel behind him, each pair nearly running with the item they held. The first carried a bench with leather straps which hung loosely. The other pair stumbled along with a steaming metal container, stopping every few steps to readjust their grips on the heavy object. Even the handles were hot, evidenced by the constant blowing on their hands each time they stopped.
“I want you to know that I take no pleasure in this,” said Kuuma, glancing over his shoulder at the men setting up behind him. “But we have not found any other way to deal with these limitations you have. This is a necessity. You should take heart to know that we have narrowed down the procedure. We can thank your brother for that. Let’s just say he fell victim to quite a bit of trial and error. You should be grateful it was not you.”
Viola stared at the steaming table, terror gripping her as they threw back the lid to reveal hot coals and various pokers, all glowing an angry red. “Please,” she begged, her breaths coming in short bursts as rising panic threatened to consume her. “You don’t have to do this.”
Kuuma leaned in closer, his nose nearly touching hers. “Oh, but we do,” he whispered. “The sooner you respond to your training, the sooner it will be over with. Not today, of course. The treatments take some time before they take hold. Weeks, months perhaps, that really depends on you and how fast your body responds. A word of advice, though.” He clapped his hands right in her face. “The more you try to resist, the worse it will be. During your training you must remember that pain is not your enemy. I am not your enemy. It is your cursed body that has forced our hand. We are simply fixing one of the creator’s many mistakes.”
Two guards approached to lift her off her knees. Each hooking one arm, they began to drag her towards the bench. She wasn’t purposely resisting, it was just that her legs wouldn’t obey. Stunned, shocked, she could no longer feel anything below the waist. Feet sliding along, leaving track lines in the loose sand, the bench drew ever closer. Her vision narrowed, blackness engulfing everything else around her.
Too numb to resist, they pushed her back down to her knees, head and arms flat across the bench. She felt the leather straps tighten over the top of her wrists, each one biting down hard. She flexed her fingers on one hand then rolled her head to the side. The others were all right there, looking down, expressions filled with genuine horror…all except Umoro, who wore a smirk, arms folded across his chest. What was going on here?
Diovok and Kuuma stood off to the side, their fingers tracing around some sort of chart. Looking up, Viola caught just a glimpse of what looked like a mapped-out body. From here she could see lines leading from various parts of the body, each with scribbled instructions she couldn’t read from this distance. Somehow, their completely ignoring her while going over the chart made things even worse. She felt like an animal being led to slaughter. They showed no emotion, no remorse in the preparation of doing something that just needed to be done. She wasn’t a person to them at all. Just a thing that had to be fixed.
One of the guards came up behind her. She flinched, feeling his fingers wiggle beneath the back of her tunic. With a sharp tear, it tore away, leaving her back exposed.
“What are you doing?!” Salina shrieked, finally working up the nerve to speak out. Running up to the bench, she hovered over Viola’s strapped body as if she could somehow protect her. “Stop this madness at once!” A backhand from the guard sent her sprawling onto the sand.
“She is not being punished,” Kuuma reminded, stepping over to straddle her. His voice was cool, no anger, no emotion. “She is being trained, no different than the rest of you. She is, however, a special case. Her body is different than yours and therefore requires a different approach.” He looked up, his eyes sweeping across the guards as well as the slaves. “I do not need to explain my actions to any of you. The next one who tries to interfere will be executed on the spot.” He gestured back towards one of the guards. “Proceed.”
Viola watched two pokers get pulled from the hot coals, their ends a deep red with black smoke coiling up from the tips. Right over the top of her head they were handed to the guard behind her. Salina pushed up from the sand and crawled towards Viola on all fours. There was nothing she could do to stop it, but that didn’t mean she would abandon her friend, either. Viola’s lips trembled with terror, her eyes wide with fear, staring off at nothing. Her mind seemed trapped in some faraway place. She didn’t appear to notice when Salina’s fingers slipped in between her own, grasping her hands. She didn’t so much as blink when Salina leaned her forehead against hers.
“Viola,” she whispered, their cheeks nearly touching. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? I need you to stay with me. You must concentrate.” Viola’s vacant eyes rolled away, her lips still trembling as if she were freezing. “Viola!” Those red eyes snapped into focus, suddenly looking at Salina as if only now noticing her.
Ignoring Salina, Diovok leaned over her and held the parchment out in front of the guard. Obviously, this map of sorts was to be his guide while he worked.
The man nodded, then lined up his steaming rods accordingly. Salina ripped a str
ip of cloth from her tunic, then quickly rolled it as tight as she could. “Bite this,” she whispered, shoving the piece into Viola’s mouth. But she didn’t bite down. She did nothing but tremble, her tear-filled eyes wide with disbelief. How could this be happening? What had she done to deserve this?
Similar to when her arm was branded, Viola first heard the hiss of hot metal searing flesh, accompanied by a slight pressure beneath both arms. Then the pain hit like a storm... Her ensuing scream shook the walls, a bloodcurdling screech that even saw Umoro cover his ears and look away. Inhuman, primal…only the sound of a demon being skinned alive could compare. The haunting echo seemed to radiate from everywhere at once, a lingering chorus of torment riding the wind like a lost soul. Then that too faded away in a haunted whimper of repeated echoes.
“Listen to me. You must hear my voice,” Salina pleaded, shaking away the ringing in her ears. Viola’s face was twisted in agony, her eyes pressed shut while her body trembled. “You’ll go mad if you don’t do as I say. Count with me. Distract your mind or lose it forever! One hundred, ninety-eight, ninety-six.” Counting backward by twos, Viola’s faint voice joined in. Together they chanted as one, trying to keep Viola’s mind focused on something other than the pain.
Diovok leaned over Salina again, completely ignoring both of them as he held out the chart once more. Sliding his finger over, he tapped the exact spot where the next round should take place.
“Ninety, eighty-eight...”
The masked being didn’t even look down as the chant continued at his feet. After the guard was given a new pair of rods fresh from the coals, Diovok tapped his finger again for emphasis. This was a specific science that had to be applied just so.
“Eighty-two, eighty...”
The guard positioned his rods, taking care to hover over just the right pressure points. One down...too many more to go. They would be here a while. “Seventy-eight, seventy-six, seventy-four...”
*
Stiff as a board, hands flat against her sides, Viola looked much like a corpse as she stared up at the ceiling. Unblinking, unmoving, it was hard to say just how long she had remained in this position. Salina watched her from her bed, many a time her mouth opening to say something, anything, only to think better of it before looking away. What could she possibly say to this tortured soul? Words of comfort would only come across as some kind of cruel joke. Nothing she could say would remove that tortured experience from Viola’s mind. She felt helpless.
Viola closed her eyes, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. It was the first time she had moved in hours. In truth, the burn cream along with a bit of magical healing had done wonders for her… physically. Her body felt perfectly fine. But what of her mind? Could such a cream or remedy repair her shattered emotions, take away the agonizing memory that bloomed back to life every time she closed her eyes?
“Viola?” Salina said, her voice but a whimpering rasp drifting through the darkness. “I-I don’t know what to— If there is anything I can—”
“Go to sleep,” Viola replied, her voice cold, emotionless, dead.
“Viola, we can’t keep on pretending this didn’t happen. I really think you need to talk to—”
Viola rolled her head, her red eyes fixed in a glare that chilled Salina’s blood. “Go to sleep,” she repeated. Her words were even softer the second time, yet carried the weight of a thousand stones. Swallowing any remaining words still caught in her throat, Salina sighed and rolled back to face the wall. There really was nothing more she could do.
After a time, Viola heard the slow breaths of deep sleep coming from her roommate’s corner. But it would be a long time yet before her own body would find rest. The sounds of her own screams rattled around in her head, a distant echo permanently burned into her subconscious. How could anyone ever repair such damage to their own mind? Did time really heal all wounds?
She jumped at the creak of settling stone, a muffled pop that might as well have been a murderous scream. The walls felt as if they were closing in around her. Her mind had become every bit a prison as the stone that held her physical body captive. A twitch of white flashed past the doorway, causing her to sit up straight. She rubbed her eyes, blinking several times before staring back out into the hall. Darkness, silence—there was nothing there. I’m going mad... The clinking sound of a dropped can rattled from out in the hallway. She glanced over at Salina, wondering if any of this was even real. Was her mind just playing tricks?
“Salina?” she whispered. Salina’s chest rose and fell, the occasional mumble interrupting her light snoring. Deciding there was no reason to wake her, Viola rolled off her bed and went to go investigate. Why draw any more attention to her slow spiral into madness by involving others? They would all bear witness to it soon enough. Peeking her head into the hall, she glanced around. Nothing but darkness. But just as she stepped back to return to her bed, she heard a banging sound. Louder than before, it sounded like it was only a few feet away. Dashing into the hall, again she found herself staring into darkness. But the sound had come from right here.
“Hello?” she said, feeling foolish even before the word left her lips. She wasn’t the only one here. A guard, one of the other captives, perhaps. Those sounds could have been made by anyone. But instead of returning to her room, she felt compelled to further investigate. I really have gone mad.
Nearing the intersecting crossway, she could swear there was someone standing up ahead. In the dark it was hard to tell, and she certainly didn’t trust her eyes anymore. But when it moved, she was certain. “Hello?” she shouted just as the figure disappeared down the left corridor. What looked like a series of white ribbons trailed behind the figure like streamers.
Curiosity winning out over caution, she rushed up to the crossway just in time to see the trail of ribbons turn the next corner. “Who’s there?” she rasped, intending to shout yet barely producing any sound at all. Should she alert one of the guards or go back and wake Salina? But the figure would most certainly be gone by that time. For some reason it seemed important not to let it out of her sight.
Turning the next corner, suddenly everything seemed to warp. The walls breathed in and out, her feet churning in mud as she tried to reach the end of the hall that seemed to constantly be moving away. In a snap of blurred reality, the end wall rushed up on her. Only a few feet away, she found herself staring at the back of the white figure.
Wearing a white dress, the bottom tattered in long flowing strips, the figure faced away from her, but was no longer trying to run. “Are you lost?” Viola asked, realizing the absurdity of her own question. Who would be lost down here? How did this girl get down in here in the first place?
The figure in white slowly turned back, white hair dragging across her shoulders, black lips turned up in an impish grin. Her red eyes glistened in the low light. Viola gasped, her mind unable to grasp—unable to accept—that there was a perfect reflection of herself smiling back at her.
“I don’t believe I’m the one who’s lost,” said her image, the voice slightly different than Viola’s but still plenty familiar. “You, on the other hand...”
“Wha— Wh-Who are you?”
The figure flipped her hair to the side, tilting her head with childish innocence. “Don’t you know? Has it been so long that you no longer recognize me?”
“I don’t understand,” said Viola, her eyes beginning to tear. It was all too much. “Why are you haunting me? You can’t be real. Please, go away.”
“Again you are mistaken,” said the figure. “For you see, you are the one haunting me!” Her red eyes flared, blazing like hot embers before dimming back down into a deep shade of red. That childish smile returned as she cocked her head the other way. “And if you don’t stop soon, we both shall suffer greatly. I don’t want to live like this. I can’t imagine you want to, either.”
“I don’t understand,” Viola repeated, tears flowing freely now. “What do you want from me?”
“You must le
t go before it’s too late!” Her hissing whisper echoed from everywhere at once. “Xavier, Liam—the humans are no longer part of your life. But most of all, you must release me.”
For the first time, Viola saw a familiarity in those eyes staring back at her. That innocence, it was a version of herself she thought long dead. The version that knew nothing of the world, that cared for people even though they treated her like a monster. It was the version of her that had no place in this world. A ghost, a shadowed memory. This representation of herself existed a lifetime ago, yet here she stood, desperate and pleading.
“They’re coming,” her image warned, alert eyes darting around in terror. Viola glanced around but heard and saw nothing. “I am no longer a part of you. You are dead to me.”
“Why are you saying such things?” Viola whimpered, overwhelming emotion flooding through her. “You were me once. You still are me! I understand that much has happened, but I will always embrace my past. Help me. I need your strength. We are the same person!”
The image cocked her head, gazing back with amused curiosity. “You are mistaken, again,” she whispered, a drawn-out hiss that echoed through the darkness. “That is no longer true. I am nothing more than a shadow of your former self, a ghost of your past that you must release. For you see, I am the one who is innocent, pure of heart. I am the one who Xavier loves!”
Viola’s knees buckled, barely able to support her weight. She nearly dropped to the floor. The image’s eyes pulled back into her head, leaving behind empty dark spheres of black. The skin of her face withered, browning strips peeling away as if rotting in real time right before her eyes. Exposed teeth grinned a decayed, lipless smile. The skinless jaw opened wide, words spilling out in a seamless echo. “Who could ever love you? You are nothing but a murderer!”
