Circle Jerk

by catt dahman

  Lovie looked in the shadows and saw Vinnie was using his big, horsey teeth to gnaw a finger bone. She gagged.

  “Is he doing it?” Mike asked.

  “Yo, I sure as hell am,” Vinnie called.

  “He really is,” Lovie gagged again.

  “Gonna burn Carina’s Bible and make a fire for your big hand. Yo, ain’t no one gonna beat Vinnie here, and I’m hungry, and I am gonna eat.”

  Lovie cried and gagged again, and Carina prayed loudly, but Vinnie didn’t care. He was hungry, and this was food. It wasn’t good food, no it was bad food, but it was better than the pangs in his belly. He wouldn’t have long to cook, so he grabbed pages and crushed them into wads so that he could light them better; then, he set the open book upside down with the light underneath. His knife would hold the meat like a shish kebob over the flame, and if it got soot and ash all over it, what did that matter?

  He lit his candle to have better control.

  In his mind, the others were beneath him and were a bunch of pansies. Had any of them grown up having to dig in dumpsters to eat when the old man was off on a drunken bender and Mom was crying and lying in bed, refusing to take care of her children? No. That was Vinnie who dug around and fed his brother and sisters.

  Had they been around gangs, drugs, and crime every day since they were born? Had they learned to run as fast as possible to avoid the boys who would beat him up if they caught him? No, that was Vinnie. They didn’t carry a knife that was used several times to make the bullies or pervy old men back off. These people didn’t understand about doing whatever it took to survive; he did. He hadn’t survived the bad streets to die in some stupid basement. This was nothing. He was going to get out and make some people suffer.

  Payback was his motivation, and he’d do anything and everything, right or wrong, to get the chance for some repayment of misery.

  As he finished tearing out most of the pages of the Bible, he saw something peculiar. Without the faint light, he would have missed it. Cut into the pages carefully was a shape and within the shape was.... Vinnie grabbed it fast and hid it under his thigh so that the nosy women never saw it. He had to be careful and think about this.

  He took the severed hand from the baggie, sniffed it, and found only a blood scent; it wasn’t rotten or poisoned, he decided. It was smaller than his hand, but a man’s, and it was soft and had unblemished skin. A weak Nancy-boy.

  Vinnie lit the Bible and cooked the hand carefully, turning it, knowing that he was barely getting more than a small burn on the flesh. It still would be better if it were cooked. “Gimme that teddy bear you’re hiding. That’ll add more to the fire for cooking. I’ll give you half da meat,” Vinnie told Lovie.

  “Go to hell.”

  “Yo, ya dumb broad, I’m there. I been in hell a long time, and I have my own room. Cozy, warm one.”

  “It stinks,” Kim said.

  Jake thought it smelled terrible, but he drooled more. No one was watching, and if any were, all they would see was his grimacing as he ate the worms in the baggie. There were a lot, they were dried, and they didn’t taste bad. He slid the finger into his mouth and tasted iron and a flat, boring taste. He chewed, gnawing the flesh. His saliva filled his mouth, and he picked every piece free.

  He wasn’t full. His hunger didn’t lessen but increased. He wanted more. Anything. He stared at Lovie’s hand for a while and drooled as he cried again. He made himself stop looking at her hand, her plump, white hand and soft wrist. He had been hungry but was doing okay until Julia taunted them with ideas about food, letting them know how long they had been without food, making them hungrier by far. He was all right, and then, once offered the terrible finger, he broke and ate. He felt he had been teased into doing this. He never would have thought about it on his own. Right?

  Jake knew he was slipping away, but he couldn’t stop himself. In a short time, they had sunk this low, to eating human flesh, but the hunger was so bad, and he believed what Julia said: this was the only food. The second they ate what was in the baggies, everything became true.

  They crossed invisible lines.

  In the shadows, Andre took the meat Ruth had and the meat he had and very carefully carved the meat from the bone to make very thin slices until he had a good sized pile. They hardly spoke and then only in very close whispers. Ruth handed him the bottle of hot sauce, trying to swallow down the lump of nausea in her throat. This wasn’t something they discussed because there were no words. It was nothing but survival.

  Andre knew this was all real and that Julia meant what she said as soon as he saw the baggies. If Julia were bluffing, there wouldn’t be human parts in bags.

  If they didn’t eat something, they would die. If they waited, the meat would rot. They weren’t willing to let people such as Owen, Vinnie, Skot, Terri, and Mattie beat them.

  Ruth took the slice and watched Andre, and he nodded as he put his piece into his mouth. They both swallowed as if eating raw oysters. For a moment the gag reflex threatened, and then it was gone, and the flesh went down. “Again,” Andre said.

  Ruth cried the entire time.

  They finished the food and drank a lot of water because the hot sauce was spicy, but it had covered the taste.

  Vinnie slurped and made a show of eating his food. Carina vomited and cursed him in Mexican, but Vinnie grinned the whole time.

  They heard something metallic bounce to the floor. And again. Three times.

  “Flowers?” Kim asked.

  “I smell it, too,” Ruth said. She looked around, and the shadows doubled before her eyes. Her head felt heavy as if it were filled with cotton. She didn’t know why, but she called out, “Nick? Nick?”

  “Ruth. I’m…’re.” He fell silent. Skot and Jake yelled and asked what was happening; Lovie yelled a few times and then slumped.

  “Oh, no,” Ruth whispered. She slid sideways and giggled softly.

  The lights went out.

  Chapter Eight

  “Use your damned bags and bottles. From now on if you pee and shit yourself, you can lie in it,” Randy walked around the cages. He smiled as he told them that, enjoying how all of them jumped at his harsh words. He had his hose with him, and the nozzle dripped in a threatening way. He carried ice-cold water.

  He was a big man, strong, and well built. He was attractive, so it was no shock that Lovie had been attracted to him.

  Ruth watched him, wishing she could remind him that being crude wasn’t necessary, but what was the use when he was a monster anyway? His language fit him. He was only part of the problem, anyway, but one she feared. Strange how ice cold water could cause so much terror, considering the situation, but she was very afraid of the water. The drops were so cold they were more like fire, and the lasting cold made her bones ache and throb.

  Only a few cages looked wet. Evidently Carina, Terri, and Owen had soiled their cages if Randy’s words related to his actions. Carina had vomited, and Terri had been sick in all ways. She was really ill. The stench was like a cloud, making everyone suffer more. Julia was truly a sick person if she enjoyed so much unhappiness. Ruth wondered why Julia was bent that way, but at this point, it hardly mattered.

  Randy went on, “I didn’t mind cleaning up the third time when all of you were knocked out, but I resent having to do this in the first place. Use the stuff we gave you, and stay clean, or you can live in filth.”

  He sprayed the water over in a corner, close to Mattie who complained under her breath. He had cleaned by spraying away waste, but the stench remained.

  “And if you don’t want to eat what you have, toss it out or keep it for later, but the rot is setting in.”

  Rot?

  Ruth thought past the fuzziness in her head. Rot and Randy’s comment about this being the third time he sprayed the cages made her wonder. She thought she had slept a long time and remembered a few times, awakening, trying to find a better position, and falling back asleep. “How long were we…how….”

  “Gas. With en
ough money, you can buy anything. I had to wash the cages with a mask on,” Randy said, snarling at Ruth as he answered, “And I don’t like doing that.”

  “How long?”

  Randy sighed. “Why do you care? A long time. More than twenty-four hours. That’s why you’re gulping the water and peeing so much.” He chuckled as most drank their water and used their bottles to pee. His skin was shiny with an oily sweat, and his eyes darted in an excited way that made Ruth sure that he really enjoyed this, contrary to his complaints. Julia might be crazy and curious, but Randy did this because he got off on watching the misery. “You were boring Julia, so we let you get…say…a little hungrier!” he said as he snickered.

  He went around and filled each water bottle again since most were drained. He waited while a few drank all of the refill; he patiently added more water. “Julia hates when it gets really stinky, but I don’t care. Like I said, use what you have or suffer. Bad news is you’re about twenty-four hours hungrier…even those of you who ate a little.” He laughed at his own comment and walked away. The observation, shaming them, gave him pleasure.

  The lights went out, leaving them in inky blackness.

  “I’m starving,” Skot said.

  “We know. We know. We know,” Kim screamed back.

  “Unlike some of you, I didn’t eat people.”

  “Do you think eating a finger helped?” Jake yelled at Skot. He shook with the effort of yelling.

  “Then why did you do it?” Skot yelled back, “and if it don’t help none, then why did you do it, savage ?”

  Jake didn’t know. He only knew he was fading fast. He had felt strong, and then, within a little while, he was just...weak. From medical training, he knew what was happening. He was dehydrated slightly, but his blood sugar was way down from having no food. It caused irritability, exhaustion, and confusion. As he starved to death, his body was consuming itself. Knowing didn’t make it stop.

  Someone cried harder.

  “Cannibal,” Skot said.

  “Just shut up,” Ruth said. She slapped Skot hard across his hand and narrowed her eyes as he cursed more.

  “Hey, Owen, think those neighborhood kids would be glad to see ya like this? I bet they would. I bet they’d love it. The parents, too, iffin’ they knew what you did to the little kids,” Terri said as she waited a second, “and you shouldn’t have stabbed me, ya pervert.” She groaned as her bowels cramped, but she tried hard not to dirty herself again. She felt so sick.

  “Terri is feverish. I think her foot is infected. Owen, feel her wounds, and tell me if her skin is hot.”

  “No.”

  “Owen, do I need to remind you….”

  Owen shifted and huffed as he did what Nick ordered him to do. Terri’s foot felt slimy, and he shivered and gagged as he understood that the wounds were oozing infection. He and his knife caused that; the knife had been dirty. Some great shock, there. He hadn’t known, nor had he cared at the time. He didn’t particularly care now except that they were forcing him to touch the repulsive fluids.

  He was angry. Prissy knew about his issues. The urges were like demons he fought against all the time, sometimes able to stop himself and sometimes giving in to what he knew was wrong. Prissy had been his only help, the soothing voice that led him away from the window so he didn’t call over to the young people. She was his distraction, his compass, his savior. He wasn’t ignorant; he knew what he did was wrong, but without Prissy, he didn’t know how to stop doing bad things.

  The shame was overwhelming as everyone heard Terri’s accusations. He could deny them, but Prissy might chime in, if he did. How could he be sure what his sister would do after she obviously told Terri his secrets? Prissy and Terri. It made Owen’s gut ache more to think about that.

  If they had something, then did that mean Prissy would move out? Would she leave Owen? Who would watch out for him, then? She might tell more secrets; Owen didn’t know which ones she had already told. It was enough to make his head ache.

  His leg already hurt. How long had they been here? Sometimes, he thought weeks, and sometimes he figured it was more like a few minutes.

  “Owen? Are you there? How is Terri?”

  “She’s infected, I guess.” It was all he could say. Owen decided he hated Nick. He wasn’t fond of anyone, really, but Nick and Terri, he hated. And Mattie. And maybe Prissy.

  “Your fault,” Terri said.

  “Yours. You caused me to lose my temper.”

  Mike huffed and said, “No, you lost it by yourself. You could have just been ashamed and not hurt Terri, and then you would have never done the bad things.”

  “Too late for that,” Owen said. He hated Mike, too.

  “We know. Now, you have to do something. Be responsible, Owen,” added Nick.

  Owen glared in Nick’s direction. He sounded like teachers Owen had a few years ago, like his parents, like shrinks, like the stern minister that went on to yelling next. They all yelled eventually. Owen was used to ignoring all the raised voices and the disproving looks. Those could make a person depressed if he took them to heart.

  “Help her,” Prissy said.

  Owen jumped. She had stayed quiet all of this time, only to beg a favor from her secret girlfriend? He felt rage center within his chest again. He didn’t think he could prevent another attack on Terri, and then, Nick, that hateful person, would order Mattie to stab Owen. There were insults after insults here. His brain buzzed with what sounded like a million bees.

  Nick told him, “You have to help Terri.”

  “Kiss my ass,” Owen said as he sat back and crossed his arms. He was sick, hungry, miserable, and furious, and he was damned if he also were going to be ordered around. Maybe Mattie didn’t have it within her to do to him what he had done to Terri; besides, Owen had only done that in a black and red haze of anger. She wasn’t that vile, he figured.

  He was wrong.

  Mattie was tired of the fighting and was angry, as well. She took it out on Owen, not by stabbing him with her needle, but by following the orders of her cocaine-fueled brain. She leaned over, opened her mouth, and chomped down on his foot. It took pressure, but in seconds, the flesh parted and warm, salty blood filled her mouth.

  She did it just to be mean.

  It satisfied her rage and her need to hurt someone as badly as she was hurting, but the taste changed something. She wouldn’t have called the taste of the blood good, but it was warm and better than the tasteless water she had been drinking. It shocked her as much as anything could.

  She wasn’t a curious sort, but she was interested in the new sensations in her mouth. After messing up her cage with her wastes which amounted to nothing but water and stomach acid, she was past hunger, she was starving, and the blood felt like a kind of food. It could even save her life, she thought, and what was Owen but a waste of oxygen? He was a pedophile and a pervert. No great loss.

  She was used to judging others. It kept her in business. She judged which johns looked dangerous, so she avoided them or made sure her razor was close, judged who would pay a little extra because they were desperate or hadn’t found another working girl, and who was drunk and could be rolled for some extra cash. She didn’t really judge people based on morals since her own were very liberal, but she didn’t care for people who hurt kids. That was low.

  Without thinking it over, Mattie started chewing and ripping away flesh, gulping it. Once she began, she couldn’t stop even though everyone was yelling at her. She was so hungry.

  “That whole side is falling apart,” Skot announced, “way to go, Mattie.” He was repulsed but still cheered. He didn’t care that Ruth slapped his hand; he didn’t care if Ruth hated him, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought of him. He was here to survive.

  Nick and Mike screamed at her, but Mattie didn’t stop. The ripping away of the skin sounded like tape being pulled off a roll. Owen shrieked hysterically.

  “Mike, do something. Make her stop. You have her hand; do something,
” Nick yelled.

  “I can’t. I can’t. Oh my, God, I can’t,” cried Mike as he banged at the bars but couldn’t make himself do anything to Mattie. The idea of harming anyone, even Mattie, was something he couldn’t think about. How could anyone ask him to hurt others? This whole situation was about hurting other people to stay alive, it seemed.

  “Mike, come on, we need you.”

  “I can’t,” Mike said and turned, “Mattie, stop, please. I can’t do this.”

  She didn’t stop. Owen got louder, despite that there was no way he could be any louder as he bawled hard enough to ruin his vocal chords. He made gibbering noises in between peels of shrieking. He wet himself, and the scent of urine filled his cage.

  Prissy howled and beat on her bars, and Skot laughed.

  It was as if everyone had gone insane at once.

  Owen had his knife, one that he had sharpened against the metal, but he didn’t turn it on Terri. He wanted a chance to stab Mattie. She stopped biting and went to work on his foot with a knife she had, working at the bones of his toes and stripping away more flesh.

  As she crunched and chewed, Owen had a rare, clear thought. She wasn’t going to stop until she consumed his entire foot. He would bleed to death, but until then, he would feel every slice and every bite. With the pain and fear came the knowledge that he really didn’t want to live anyway, not after knowing about Prissy and Terri and not after having everyone know his sins.

  He would cheat all of them. Let Julia get her pound of flesh, so to speak, and let Prissy wonder why he was quiet. Let Mattie have rotten flesh instead of live food. More than that, let him be free of the pain.

  Without any more consideration, Owen took his knife and plunged it repeatedly into his throat and chest, hoping to hit his heart. He didn’t get the knife that deep, but he did enough damage to his neck that blood began to spurt. His agony seemed to go on forever, and he screamed the entire time, but after a few minutes, he felt cold, and the pain lessened.

  He stopped screaming and slumped, feeling drowsy.