The goal was never to kill or knock out anyone—like I said before, that would just complicate things. What I was experiencing was little different from the smoker who has a cigarette first thing in the morning, the worker who needs a stiff drink after a stressful day. We all need that little hit from time to time—that little toxic in our veins, that little thing we know is bad or dangerous. We all have a little evil in us all; that little slumbering monster with its devilish hunger that we need to let out of its cage from time to time.
Deep down inside, we’re all monsters anyway. Fucked up selfish little monsters. It’s past time that we finally globally admitted it. Think back to history class if you don’t believe me. From wars, to torture, to downright cruelty—we’re selfish, greedy, little monsters, too afraid of what we truly are, and so we compare ourselves to other monsters to make ourselves feel a little better. Some people do drugs, some shoot guns, some do drugs and then shoot guns. Most take it out passively on those around them. For people like me, well, it’s a different story.
It had been a stressful day, and this was the most proven method for me to relax.
Jason reached over to close the door and rolled up the windows. The heating was up at full blast. Already the windows were starting to fog. He leaned back in his seat, stretched out his aching legs, and cranked up the radio to full blast.
FROM THE DIARY OF PETER CLAYTON
People don't like anger and think of it as a purely negative emotion. Sarah once left me an article she had found which she felt was appropriate to me:
‘Modern psychologists view anger as a primary, natural, and mature emotion experienced by virtually all humans at times, and as something that has functional value for survival.
Anger can potentially mobilize psychological resources and boost determination toward correction of wrong behaviours, promotion of social justice, communication of negative sentiment, and redress of grievances.
It can also facilitate patience. On the other hand, anger can be destructive when it does not find its appropriate outlet in expression. Anger, in its strong form, impairs one's ability to process information and to exert cognitive control over their behaviour.’
People don't like anger. One of, what we are told to call, ‘the seven deadly sins’. Anger can be a positive, pure, and constructive emotion, to protect yourself or others—from the monsters within and the monsters outside. Focused rage, is what I decided to call this—anger with direction.
Anger is something that we are born with, an integral part of us, from the age of eighteen months to three years, to provide the motivation and energy for the individuation developmental stage. This is what I like to call the ‘rage stage’. The stage of our lives when the little rage seed inside of all us starts to grow. It’s hardly coincidental that anger emerges at the same time that thinking is developing.
When on rage, it is not as negative as others would seem to think. On rage, we thought more optimistically, we felt alive. Dangers seemed smaller, the world more tolerable and unfortunate events all but impossible. In a way, perhaps, we were blinded by this sensation.
This is why I never wanted our Playdates to feel fear. I wanted them to feel angry. I wanted them to feel not just our rage, but also their own.
So, if you are still reading this, then don’t be afraid.
Be angry.
CHAPTER 20
The scene playing in the basement of a seedy club downtown was entirely different from what was above. On the surface level, men in fashionable shirts and jeans met in groups to try pick up some girls. With a drink in hand as their social crutch, they would begin the age-old art of courting. Hell, with a bit of luck, some of them might actually get to bring the girl home and fuck her.
Below ground, things were done a little bit different.
Jason wore a top made of two chains wrapped around him like suspenders, matched with a pair of leather trousers with studs running along the pant legs.
Marcus wore leather shorts and a black t-shirt depicting a bloody cross. Tony was topless and wore a pair of leather trousers so tight they were practically a second skin. Jonathan and Alice had not been invited as Jason had so stubbornly stated.
In the centre of this candlelit dungeon was the Playdate, Chloe. She wore a leather bikini associated with S+M with spikes jutting out at the breasts. Her thong was also studded in a similar fashion. She wore nothing else apart from a seductive grin as the men admired her exposed and vulnerable lithe body.
She was held like a fly in a spider’s web of chains that bound her legs and arms backwards in a submissive gesture. In her mouth was a leather ball gag with 'slut' stitched in bold, stylish pink lettering. Her midnight black hair was tied back in a loose-fitting ponytail that cascaded down one shoulder.
Her eyes were dark, like two panthers stalking the surrounding men. A flicker of green glistened under all the heavy makeup. Two intertwining green vine tattoos flowed around her hips, cupping underneath her supple breasts. On her back, two wings spread out like the wings of a black dragon.
She was incredibly beautiful—there was no denying that.
As my eyes were drawn to her stunning body, I could not but help notice the red marks from where the chains bit into her flesh.
Within seconds, the show began.
Marcus was the first to start this rather odd Playdate. He grabbed her from behind, skeletal hips thrusting against her. His eyes never left her bouncing buttocks as he eagerly picked up the pace. His mouth hung open in a trance. His entire body shook like a cold breeze had struck it.
Chloe moaned lightly as the party began.
“Ease up there, son.” Tony pushed Marcus aside. “Let me show you how it's done.”
Tony wrapped his wide hands around Chloe's small hips. She craned her head back to catch a glance as Tony entered her from behind. Her face twisted into a mix of pain and pleasure. A sharp moan escaped her parted lips.
Jason mockingly laughed in approval.
“You like that shit, huh? Do ya?” He yanked the length of her hair like the reins of a horse to meet his steely stare.
Chloe groaned a response. Jason hit her and mockingly laughed. She immediately hid her face.
“Come on, man. Take it easy on her,” I insisted, announcing my presence.
“Shut the fuck up, Pete. You got no say in this! Not on my night!”
“Marcus, come on! Join the fuck in already!”
Chloe tried to protest against her restraints.
“What did you say, baby?”
Tony thrust harder into her this time. Chloe moaned louder. She violently shook her head from side to side.
“Think she said she wants it harder,” Tony mocked.
“She could be trying to say stop,” I said.
“She'd say the safe word then,” Jason sneered as he lifted her head up again.
“How the fuck would she do that? You've got a ball gag in her mouth!” I gritted.
Hurting people was one thing, but to sexually assault an innocent woman? That was a different breed of monster.
“I know right! Dumb bitch!” Jason slapped her again as if to accent his point.
He kept her head up in a tight grip, but her whole body seemed limp. She mumbled something inaudible into the gag in her mouth.
“Come on, for fuck’s sake!” I snapped, drawing attention to the red tear in the corner of her eye. “Look at her.”
The room fell eerily still. The hanging silence was broken only by her faint sobbing. Jason waved his hands for Tony to stop.
I shook my head in disbelief, knowing the monsters I had helped him create. This might have been Jason’s Playdate, but it was time that he learned how to play by my rules.
Chloe mumbled something into her gag between sobs. Her left eye looked a little swollen and bloodshot. The side of her face was black with smeared mascara and red tears.
Jason removed the ball gag from her mouth and brushed the matted hair away from her face.
“Stop
. . .”
Her voice was little more than a faint whisper.
“What did you say? I can't hear you!”
“Jason. Stop . . .”
He was in no mood for listening however and rose to his feet. He cupped her head up under the chin with one hand.
“Baby, don’t look so sad. You agreed to this. Just think of the money. Besides, we’re just getting started.”
* * *
Frightened, she could only watch as his hand rested on the back of her head. He pulled her head back by her ponytail, his wild eyes staring down at her.
“You going to keep complaining?”
She shook her head and tightly closed her mouth.
“Marcus!” he shouted, eyes wild and savage. “You gonna just stand there or fuck this bitch already?”
Chloe stole a sad glance at Marcus. He noticeably flinched again as if physically struck. The uneasiness was seeping from his every pore. He backed away from her each time their eyes locked even for the faintest of seconds.
She stole another glance at me, her face urging me to intervene.
The rules of the Playdate had stated that this was his night. The addict demanded his hit and all I could do was standby and administer a higher dosage than before to keep him sedated. To try to keep him human. Hell, were any of us even human anymore or had we finally crossed the threshold?
“You take one step closer and I’ll bite your fucking cock off,” she spat at Jason.
Jason’s face became as dark as the shadows around him. He struck her across the face. Tears ran down her face. He mockingly laughed.
Blood ran down from the corners of her mouth. She tried again to wriggle a hand free from the chains holding her in place.
“Take it, you slut,” Jason grunted as he pinned her arms behind her back. Tony thrust harder than before, lost in the intense pleasure, a frenzy of tortured passion. Both men looked like savages as they tortured this poor woman.
She had no idea what she was in for. She had never met rage junkies like us before.
She had agreed to it, and this was her experience to take away no matter how ugly it got. It was a symbiotic experience after all. A primal bond was being created which few in this world would ever feel—a hideous cocktail of rage, terror, and primal lust.
Marcus hid away in one of the corners of the room, unable to watch for more than a few seconds at a time. He whimpered like a wounded puppy. I watched as he curled up into a ball of tears and shame.
Chloe moaned again, this time in pain. I felt something sharp stab into my chest as I watched.
I felt guilt.
CHAPTER 21
Chloe tried to free a hand from the chains, but Jason grabbed her wrist so tight that she felt like it was about to snap like a twig. She cried out in pain. The taste blood filled her mouth, and it made her sick to her stomach. Suspended in the air, all she could do was look down at the bloody tears on the floor below. Jason’s grubby fingers tried to pry her mouth back open. His sharp fingernails cut deep into her lips. Her mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.
Her eyes filled with red tears. Blood and mascara ran down her rosy, puffy cheeks.
At that same moment, Tony came inside her. His broad hands tightly gripped her buttocks as his sweaty body almost buckled over completely.
“Fuck you both,” she winced, fighting down her repulsion with every spat syllable.
“Fuck me?” Jason looked amused. “Did I just hear you right? Is that what you said, Chloe? Fuck me?”
Tony smirked, only half-watching, as he unfolded his expensive suit from a filthy locker and began dressing himself. Marcus was still hunched down in the corner with his hands over his ears to block the approaching sound of knuckle meeting flesh. Jason hit her again and again. Tony remained as impassive as ever. To him, this was strictly business. Still tied up and defenceless, all she could do was close her eyes and wait for it to be over.
Jason never saw me coming.
* * *
I tackled him to the ground and started slamming my fists onto his still laughing face before he could realize what was happening. I slammed my fists down so hard I heard a bone snap in my hand.
“Get the fuck off her!” I yelled, pain flaring through my fist, but I kept on smashing my splintered knuckles down onto his bloody face.
“Peter! The fuck you doing?!” Tony came barrelling towards me with the force of a speeding bus. I managed another two hard punches into Jason's face before Tony lifted me into the air. I thrashed and fought, but his tree trunk arms wrapped tight around my neck. I hung for several long seconds, legs kicking out from beneath me. My vision swam. I watched, vision blurring, as Jason rose, battered and bloody, stalking towards me.
The last thing I remember seeing were Jason’s bloody knuckles slamming repeatedly against my face until my world turned black.
FROM THE DIARY OF PETER CLAYTON
That night after Marcus carried my broken body back to my apartment, I dreamt.
It was rare that I dreamed anymore, but this time I dreamt.
I dreamt I was falling.
I fell into a swirling black vortex as dark as the eternal night. All around me, the stars were being sucked in, too. Some stars brushed past me, stinging as their sharp corners grazed against my skin. Others seemed to whisper incomprehensible words. I turned my head away from the vortex as I slowly fell to look back at the stars trailing behind me.
I blinked several times from the blinding lights. My eyes struggled to focus against the constant flashes of light, but with each blink, I saw faces burning into my retinas.
I strained my eyes harder against the falling stars. The closer I looked, the more these stars took the form of distorted faces. People from my life took shape. The more I concentrated, the clearer I could hear some of their voices as they spoke to one another and then to me.
The star of Marcus shone faintly. I called out to him, but he did not answer. He hovered above me, silently, watching me fall, almost judging, before darting away back into the darkness above.
I watched as the star of Marcus spun away before another star stabbed me in the ribs. I yelled in pain as I tried to pull it from my side. It snarled and snapped at my fingers. I stared down in shock as the face of Jason locked eyes with me. With blazing eyes, it pulled away in a trail of my leaking blood.
I held my side and winced in pain, lost in the falling sensation that was quickly overcoming me. I wanted to close my eyes, to end this sorry existence and fade away.
But the feeling of loss and sorrow did not last long. A warm star cuddled up against my bloody side. The warmth soothed the burning pain Jason had left.
I smiled. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who was there for me.
The star of Sarah clung to my side. I whispered to the falling star that I loved her. I finally opened my eyes and looked down at this star, the brightest and most beautiful of them all. Her voice shone with radiance yet her words pierced deep into my soul.
She told me how she could never love me. That I was a monster and all of this was my doing. I clung onto this star for dear life as I began to fall faster. The star of Sarah squirmed under my arms, but I held on. Finally, I brought myself to let go.
Alone, I fell faster and faster as the stars blinked out of existence. I turned my body as I fell to meet the vortex of my own creation. Grinning as I saw my face in its centre smiling back at me.
CHAPTER 22
I let the phone ring for several long minutes before I picked it up. It was the fourth time it had rung all morning. I hadn't been intentionally screening my calls; I just hurt too much all over to try to move. I hadn't even made it to the bathroom to check the extent of my injuries, but I knew it was bad. Judging from the pain, I reckoned that something was probably broken in my face and possibly one of my ribs. The knuckles on my right hand were swollen and black.
I looked around and saw bloody tissues scattered around my nightstand, some had fallen onto the carpet below. A bow
l of melted ice rested on the floor by my side with a few melted ice packs.
Marcus had long left.
How long had I been out cold? I could not tell. I had little recollection of being carried back to my apartment or him cleaning my wounds. Beside me, lay an opened medicine box of unsorted painkillers, bandages, and aspirin. I rummaged through the overturned mess and popped a painkiller. I felt too sore to try to get a glass of water so I crunched it between my teeth before reaching over to pick up the still ringing phone.
“Yeah?” I rested the awkwardly on one bruised shoulder.
“Pete?” replied the panicking voice of Alice, “Jesus, Pete, I just heard what happened.”
“How?”
“Jonathan called me with the news.”
“Look, Alice, don't worry about me. I'll sort it out.”
She paused for a moment too long.
“Pete, what the hell are you talking about?”
“About Jason and last night.”
Another long pause. My head swam, and my entire body hurt so badly that I needed to lie back down.
“Pete, have you talked to anyone apart from me today?”
“No,” I replied, rubbing my throbbing forehead. “Why the hell would I?”
“Pete, something happened last night to Marcus . . . it’s . . . he . . .”
“Alice, tell me. What happened?”
On the other end of the line, I heard her sobbing. A pill crunched inside her mouth.
“I can't do this over the phone. I'm coming over.”
* * *
Alice lived on the other side of town in a rather luxurious apartment on her own. Well, I'd never actually set foot in it, but from what Jonathan told me it was definitely high class. She arrived at my front door in less than twenty minutes. A sharp buzz of static from my doorbell made my head throb even worse than before. For a woman who was late to everything this worried me a little.
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