Justin Cairns - Little Red

The lights boomed to life and stung his eyes, he wanted to rub them but couldn’t. He gazed upon the structure, the metal frame stood upright, his body secured to it. The wheels on the base made it easy to move him, he attempted to shake his prison, to tip it over and possible wriggle free. It failed. The howl caught his attention as the song began. It’s volume was low but it seized his movements, his eyes shot rapidly from left to right as he looked the source of the music. It gradually became louder, the room still empty. From the woods came a cracking sound, the painted trees became darker, as if a shadow had been cast upon them. He watched in fear, the shadow moving through the wooden giants. The music increased as the beast approached the edge of the wood line, Nathan caught its movement, stunned by the appearance from the painted wall. He watched it stalk the path, the long nose sniffing the array of scents. It froze; the smell caught its attention. Nathan wondered what it had found, what made it stop in its tracks. The fear filled its nostrils; the grey skin on the bridge of its nose began to crease as it inhaled wildly. The deep red eyes fixed upon Nathan, the teeth protruded from its mouth as it grinned at its prey.

The beast jumped back into the woods out of sight. Nathan squinted as he focused harder at the wall. Where are you? Where the fuck did it go?

The slice to his chest shocked him, the wolf attacking from his blind side. The warm blood ran down his stomach and into his trousers. He looked down at the gaping wound, his guts bulging with pressure.

‘What the fuck!’ he bellowed as the pain shot through his body.

The second strike tore the skin on his right arm, the flesh peeled open to display his muscle fibres and bone. Once again, the pain chewed through him. He cried for help, his head thrashed from side to side. The warm breathe caught his ear and he swung his head to see the beast. It wasn’t there. The teeth ripped into his cheek as the jaws clenched against his face, the scream fell on deaf ears. He wanted to wake, the pain felt real. He told himself to awaken, the order not adhered to. The large yellow teeth sunk further into him, the jaw popped in his ear as it was dislocated. He screamed louder………………….

The lamp was activated as a shaking hand located the switch. The sweat dripped like a tap from his face, his hand stroked his cheek, the cover pulled back to check his stomach. He noticed the large wet patch under his legs, the palm of his hand placed upon it. It was damp, he moved the hand to his face and stopped as the strong stench of urine struck him. He had wet the bed, the first time since he was a child. He felt slightly ashamed at the loss of bowel control. The dream had sent a fear through him that his body had not felt for a long time. He recalled the last time he had experienced that type of scare, the blade entering his body and dicing his limbs. The images flooded his mind, the young boys found dead, the dungeon of bodies, the methods in which the killer used. The monster, six feet four inches tall, built like a brick shit house. The Golden Boy Killer.

He needed a shower, to freshen up his skin and awaken his mind. His dreams would not allow him to sleep, they stopped his body from energising its self. He still felt tired, more so due to the way his body had reacted to the dark vision. He washed away the remains of the bad dream, his face rough from the lack of shaving. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the accessories to trim his face, or that he didn’t have time……he just didn’t have the energy.

The yellow patch remained on the mattress, he pulled the soiled sheets from the bed and left them in a pile by the door, embarrassed at the thought of the cleaning lady retrieving them. He flipped the mattress over to the dry side, he hoped it was dry and hadn’t seeped all the way through. It hadn’t.

He pulled on some underwear and jogging pants, the top half remained naked so he could air himself. He noticed the digits on the bedside clock tick to 04:35 , he was awake, even if he wanted to go back to sleep he couldn’t, the dream had hurt him mentally, it had scared a delicate section of his brain. He sat upon the stripped bed, his back flush against the head board. He opened the drawer beside him and retrieved the folder. He hadn’t got far through the contents, he thought about killing some time and attempting to dilute the rest, looking for anything similar to the monster he, and several others, were hunting.

The typing upon the pages was small, so small that Nathan had to bring the page closer on several occasions, just to be sure of the word he was reading. Every now and then he peered up to the wall, his eyes reading the emotions upon the Wolf’s victims faces. He hated the man, despised his kind, and last night he took the opportunity to assist in cleansing London of that scum. He saw his feeble efforts as helping Richard, although there was little partaking from himself. He thought about the methods that his new colleague used, the things he had only seen in films, words spoken in random chat about the myths of interrogation. Last night was no myth, he remembered it well, too well for his liking. He had seen pain inflicted upon many people, one of whom was himself, but the type of torture he witnessed that evening had been the worst he had ever seen. He contemplated that the events had maybe triggered the haunting nightmare to strike with a fierce touch. His attention was given back to the file.

***

Jack awoke with a thudding skull. He had drooled upon the floor, again. His alarm had beeped on several occasions and he chose to ignore it. He had shot up when realising that his fellow co-workers would soon be entering the building, seeing him in the current state would really effect his position and rumours would begin to circulate like wild fire. It was one of those environments where people knew your personal business before you did. He pulled the sleeping bag from his legs like a butterfly escaping its cocoon. His arms stretched out wide, testing his wings for the first time. His back ached at the base of his spine, he laughed at the memory of Nathan whining at him to ‘stop being spineless’ and ‘man up’. He missed the banter they held, he missed his only friend. He made the decision to call him after freshening up, he had to sort himself first before anybody witnessed his appearance. He shuffled to the toilet, the sleeping bag wedged firmly back into the drawer. His face looked similar to the blurred reflection he cursed the night before. His skin cracked around the mouth, the neck sagging slightly. He filled the sink with cold water and removed his t-shirt. He sunk his head into the pool of chilling liquid, the throb under his skull slipped to the rear of his head, banging harder. The slow trickle chilled his neck as he stood, the droplets snaked down onto the neckline of his clothes. He felt a little more awake, but still looked terrible.

‘Shit Jack………what are you doing to yourself?’ he asked the mirror.

The heavy feeling in his stomach gained air and flowed up through his guts, he turned quickly and embraced the toilet. The bile exited his mouth, the tears formed in his eyes.

‘Jesus’ he panted between breaths.

His face was submerged once again in the sink. He needed chewing gum quickly, before someone made the huge mistake of starting a conversation with him.

***

Nathan had flipped through a specific story several times, the details caused his brain to tingle. The information was of a murder scene, over ten years ago. The date was placed as 13/10/2002 and the find was of a room with two bodies. The male had been stabbed multiple times and the attack was the cause of death. The young girl, ten years of age had been stabbed once, the location of the injury was to her chest, resulting in her heart being pierced, killing her instantly. He sat up and removed the pages. The folder was placed upon the bedside cabinet and he arched over his findings. The pen began circling certain pieces, the black ink smudging parts of the page. He read on, finding that a child was missing from the household, later reported to be living with his uncle, no address was given and no name of the uncle. The final paragraph displayed key features to the case, such as telephone numbers, building numbers, names of those investigating and names of the victims and missing child.