Topher Bradshaw - Inhumanity

It’s not the damp darkness or the smell of decaying materials surrounding me that bothers me tonight, it’s the fact that I’ve planned this night for so long, and that the feeling of compassion has yet to arrive. I don’t feel any remorse for my planned behavior but more a relief that vengeance will finally come. I’ve been sitting here losing track of time contemplating if I have set everything up right. Looking over at her she lays tied to the cold aluminum dolly almost in peace, perhaps dreaming about good things to come. The reality is that there are not going to be any good things to come, but as if her awareness realizes this as she starts to stir. Secured to the dolly with duct tape she is incapable of moving and her rapid breathing gives away any hope of playing possum. She tries to move her head to the side and take in her new environment but the tape restrains her movements to a few millimeters, concealing the fact that I’m sitting behind her planning her demise.

“Are you scared, Kristy?” I ask her in a low growl attempting to mask my voice.

“What do you want?” She mutters in a low voice.

No more words are spoken, only movements made by me as I approach her from behind. As I walk past her right side I can almost hear the beating of her heart as her blood pressure increases. I ponder as to if this reaction is because she realizes the imminent danger she faces, or if it’s because of the disappointment that she can’t see my face. I have no reason to hide my face, as it is more desirable she sees it, however, for now, it is not the time and therefore she will have to endure my attire of jeans, a black sweatshirt, boots, and the Guy Fawkes mask. I chose this mask to make a statement to her, a statement about revenge and retaliation. This is after all the very reason these events are transpiring this evening, but the plan is to enjoy building the suspense till the opportune time to divulge the very purpose of this engagement.

Kristy looks up at me as if she was an abandoned dog trying to figure out where she fits in life, and it is awkwardly pathetic to see this very creature who has caused me so much pain, seem so perplexed about her predicament. It’s not that I believe I am innocent, I have caused a great deal of pain to others, but never have I done it with the sole intent to destroy them, until now. Staring down at Kristy I can see her stare back at me with those green eyes as if she could see through the mask and this thought causes me to feel a smile grow upon my face, one that either of us can see. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for as the time has come to return the gift of agony and pain she had once given me. Walking behind her and grabbing the handles of the dolly, the wheels start to creak as they begin to rotate and I can see her body tense.

“Please… I’m pregnant!” she shouts as we start to exit the room. I keep walking and directing the dolly down the hallway, sensing she is seeking for a response.

“I know.”

The dim lights that glow from their containers held by the crumbling ceiling send a cold shiver into the air as any sense of hope drains away. As I wheel her into the main room the dolly begins to rock back and forth from the cracking and decaying concrete floor. I can’t see her eyes, but judging by the amount of tension radiating from her body, I can tell she sees we’re headed towards the center of the room, which houses another room, who’s walls are made of clear durable plastic. From the outside, one can make out shapes of items and equipment residing within, but it is only once you enter that you can see its true contents.

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” she pleads as we approach the makeshift plastic door.

I provide no response and proceed to push the dolly through the sheet of plastic. As we enter the light increases on a blinding scale taking both of us a minute to adjust. Kristy looks around the room taking in the contents in an attempt to process a room that looks very similar to a makeshift surgical suite.

She glances to her right and sees a familiar face, “Matt!” — she shouts. “Matt, wake up!” she pleads again but receives no response. I grip the handles behind the dolly and proceed to align her next to her passed out lover.

“Is he dead? Did you fucking kill him?”

“He’s very much alive Kristy, at least for now!”

“What do you want from us?” she exclaims.

“That’s your question, not anything more enticing such as who I am.”

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, is who you are!”

“Kristy, I must say I’m a little shocked. The second thing you said to me tonight was that you were pregnant, yet there was no plead for your baby, just that you’re pregnant. What’s funny, at least to me, is when I told you that I knew, you didn’t even question how I knew that small piece of trivial information, or that I would also know you had three other children.”

“Where are my kids?” she asks now realizing the stakes have just increased.

“And there it is. Now you care, now you are worried! Well, let me put your mind at ease!” I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out my smartphone and walk over displaying the video to her. Her face tightens as she takes in the scenery of the three children back to back in a circle secured by duct tape and held in a large metal cage.

“Please don’t hurt them,” she pleads. “They haven’t done anything to you, we haven’t done anything to you!”

“Your right they haven’t done anything to me, but you and your husband have done lots to me. You’re a shitty mother Kristy, and an even shittier wife. What’s was that expression you liked to say, don’t mess with mama or papa bear. Well, guess what, Mama and papa bear are about to get their shit messed with!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” she screams. The air goes silent for a few seconds but is then broken by the sounds of moaning. I glance over and can see Matt starting to stir as the sedative begins to wear off.

“Baby, can you hear me? Wake up babe, it’s an emergency! Wake up!” she says in a stern voice. Matt took much longer to awake than Kristy, but this is not uncommon as each person has a different tolerance to drugs. The solution often is to provide stimulation, and with that in mind I grab the cattle prong from the table behind me, lay it across Matt’s lower torso, and press the button sending jolts of electricity through his body, and a small cloud of smoke radiates from the spot.

The smell of burnt flesh joins the screaming in the air that radiates from both Kristy and Matt. I didn’t leave the cattle prod in touch with direct skin for very long, but it was enough to char some of his skin, but that’s the funny thing about flesh, is that the tiniest amount can fill the air with a pungent odor that lingers like an annoying friend that doesn’t know when it’s time to leave. Matt and Kristy at this point have stopped screaming and are squirming in an attempt to make contact with one another, but the duct tape holds them in the perfect place. I can hear them start to whimper and talk to one another, and can see from his face that Kristy has provided him with the summary of the events so far.

“You better not harm my fucking kids!” Matt yells at me in an attempt to display his dominance.

“Matt, drop down the testosterone. You’re not going to do anything,” I state calmly.