E52 Read online

  “E52”

  Written by,

  Shawna Stewart Lowther

  Chapter One

  A sharp, stabbing pain overtakes my right thigh as they once again inject the poison into my system. My veins burn as the foreign drug streams through my blood. I try to fight, but the men holding me down are strong and unwilling to release me. There is no need to scream; these men are heartless and do not care about the pain that they are putting upon me.

  As soon as they are satisfied that there is not a drop of the drug left in the syringe the men rush out of the room. They are afraid and do not want to be anywhere near me once the toxins take effect.

  I scratch at the walls. The flesh from my fingertips rip open as I continue to dig deep into the slabbed walls. The rage I feel inside is more than I can handle. I must destroy something and I do not care what it is.

  Seconds later I start to feel as I always do once the drug overtakes all my senses. I am hungry. But this hunger is something that I can not satisfy. I crave blood and flesh. I feel that I will die if I do not get what I so desire. To give in to the craving is not an option. I will not kill.

  Overtaken with the need to feed, I glare at my own hands. Blood is dripping from my fingertips; splattering on the floor like tiny drops of rain. The red serum is enticing. I lick my fingers.

  “Mmm”

  Not truly satisfied, I continue licking my fingers until not a drop of blood remains. I then turn my attention to the blood splatters on the floor.

  “More!” my mind screams.

  Dropping to the floor, I ingest the small droplets of blood. My blonde hair; long and matted, quickly becomes tainted with blood. I push my hair back behind my ears and continue to lick up the remaining serum, relieving the concrete of any of the vital fluid.

  “That was just a tease,” I think to myself, lying on my back. “I want more.”

  I glance around.

  The room where I am kept captive is bright and unwelcoming. I can’t remember how I got here nor why I was chose to go through this insanity. I look around. There is a large mirror to the east of my hospital bed. It is a barricade to keep the others safe while they observe my actions.

  Today they are taking a step further in trying to break me. This is evident by the potent smell of blood that they are now filtering into the room. Like a crazed dog I sniff the air and take in a deep breath. The smell causes my senses to frenzy. Everything about the strong aroma entices me. The inside of my mouth becomes saturated with saliva. Drool escapes from the corner of my mouth. My body needs the forbidden serum that I smell, but more than anything I want to devour the flesh that protects it.

  “This is not who I am,” I think in my mind. “I am not a cannibal.”

  I lay down on my bed and close my eyes hoping that I will find a memory that will ease the hunger that I am feeling.

  “Just think of something pleasurable,” I think to myself.

  The drug that they have given me today is much stronger than any that they have tried before. And although, it is evident that I am pregnant, I do not acknowledge the pregnancy nor can remember anyone or anything from my life. I quickly anger. My flesh becomes hot as the temperature rises within me. The fever that I am experiencing is at on all time high, but I do not sweat.

  I try ignore the need to feed any further, but I can not. Leaping up from the bed I let out a blood-thirsty growl like the other monsters I have heard in this dreadful place.

  I search around the room for something, anything, that I can eat that will satisfy the undying craving that proceeds to grow inside me.

  There is nothing, but my own flesh.

  “Take a bite,” My mind suggests.

  As I lift my arm to my mouth I am immediately overwhelmed by the smell of the delicious dinner in front of me; my own flesh. I take in a deeper breath.

  “What a delightful bouquet,” I think in my mind, as the aroma of the flesh continues to seduce my sense of smell.

  I can’t give in!

  “Please help me!” I scream, glancing toward the mirror. “Please make this undying need go away!”

  Fighting the urge to take a bite; I lower my arm.

  “I know you're in there!” I scream, pounding on the mirror.

  The people that keep me captive can hear every word that I am saying and can sense the desperation that I am feeling. Determined that they must have even a small amount of compassion, I continue to beg them to help me.

  The room remains silent of any other voices but my own.

  My plea is left unanswered.

  Blood is once again oozing from my fingertips, further enticing my senses.

  “Do it!” my mind screams. “You must!”

  Resting my fingers gently against my upper lip, I take long, deep breaths. With my heightened senses, the smell of iron seeps from the blood.

  I moan.

  “Do it!” My mind continues to insist.

  Slowly I move my fingers across my mouth; coating my lips with fresh blood. I close my eyes as my tongue is seduced by the relishing taste.

  The sensation of the warm flesh against my tongue and the taste of the escaped serum shoots a chill up my spine. It is what I desire more then anything, but it is that of my own. I know if I give in and take a bite I will become victim of my own wrongdoing. But I know that the self-inflicted pain end the agony that continues to grow within me will finally be satisfied.

  “Just a little taste,” My mind suggests.

  No longer able to fight the urge, I open my mouth and rest my teeth against the skin of my forearm. My teeth, sharp, slice through my flesh like a hot knife.

  The pain is unnerving, but the taste of the warm blood and flesh is exactly what I have been craving.

  “Mm mm,” escapes from my mouth.

  The flesh is awkward to chew, rubbery and unforgiving to my teeth. I chew slowly at first, but with every savory moment my mind frenzies.

  “More!” my mind screams.

  I swallow.

  As my body shakes in excitement, I open my eyes wide. The crazed state of mind I am in has taken over any instincts that a normal human would possess.

  I glance down at my arm and notice that an unleashed dam of blood is pouring from the wound. My hunger quickly escalates.

  As the insanity continues to plague my mind, I continue to rip at my flesh; devouring tiny pieces at a time.

  “Stop!” I hear in the distance.

  I glance up... but only for a second. My mind refuses to set me free.

  “No!” I growl as I slurp the blood from my arm.

  “Walk over to your bed!” an unseen person demands. “We are sending in someone to help you.”

  “I don’t need any help!” I snarl.

  Blood from my mouth showers the mirror in front of me.

  I glare at the blood splatters; not because I am worried or scared, but because I want to devour... every... last... drop.

  My face slams against the mirror, as I frantically lick the coagulated chunks of blood off of the only thing that is protecting the ones who study me.

  “Look what you've done! You have left me no choice.”

  “I must eat!” I growl, scratching the mirror.

  The red serum smears on the mirror, leaving claw-like images on the glass.

  I continue to snarl like the crazed animal they have made me.

  “Just calm down,” A voice echoes through the room. “We can do this one or two ways. One will harm your baby, the other will help both of you.”

  At first their words do not affect me and I continue to claw the mirror. But as I tire I realize that one word continues to haunt my mind... Baby. I seize my actions, tilt my head to the side and look blankly at the mirror.

  “Baby?” I question in my mind.

&nbs
p; I place my palms on the mirror, lean in and glare at the protection glass. I can not see them, but I know they can see me.

  “What baby?” I ask calmly.

  “Your baby,” The man answers.

  Confused I stand silent and listen for any other noise except for the sound of my own beating heart. I hear nothing. Keeping my stance I glance over to the right and then to the left. I see no evidence of a baby.

  “I don't see a baby,” I snap.

  For instant the mirror becomes transparent and I can see one of the men behind the barricade. He points at my stomach. The room he is in darkens and the mirror returns to its original state.

  Panicked, I take in a deep breath I look down at my stomach. My gown, drenched with blood, clings to my skin, causing my stomach to be more prominent.

  Fresh tears stream down my face. They have spoke the truth. I am pregnant.

  These bastards have taken it upon themselves to put my baby at harm.

  “Why would you do this to someone, especially to someone who is pregnant!” I scream out in rage.

  As I slam my fists against the mirror, my attention is quickly captured. An unnerving pain shoots from the tips of my fingers and up my arm until it has taken over my right arm in its entirety. I cease what I am doing.

  My arm is so badly wounded that a fragment of bone is exposed where my flesh once protected it. My stomach instantly sickens at the sight.

  “What have I done?” I cry repeatedly.

  Shielding my fear, I cover my face with my blood-drenched hands. The slimy substance masks my face like a second skin.

  “Now do you understand what you have done, Myrna?” The man asks.

  “What I have done?... What “I” have done?” I scream out. ““You” did this to me!”

  My stomach continues to sicken. Vomit rises to my throat and within seconds violently spews from my mouth. Blood and chunks of undigested flesh cascades onto the floor, causing sprays of the mucus to splatter onto the floor and against the wall in front of me. I continue to vomit until there is not a speck of the undigested meat left in my stomach.

  I am livid.

  Their help is the last thing I want, but it is the thing I need most.

  “Yes, please help me,” I weep. “I don’t want to die and I don’t want my baby to die either.”

  Aware of the seriousness of the situation, I grab a towel from the table and wrap it tightly around my arm. The pain intensifies. My knees weaken and I feel as if I will pass-out at any minute, but I must stop the bleeding! I continue to apply pressure to the wound.

  The undying need for flesh that I had felt moments before, has now been taken over by panic.

  “Hurry!” I scream, as blood seeps through the towel. “ The bleeding will not stop!”

  “Someone is at your door. They are coming in to help you, but you must sit down on the bed and try to relax.” The man demands.

  Frightened, I do as told and walk over to my bed and sit down on the edge of the mattress. My body is quivering out of control and I feel I must keep moving or I will suffer the same fate I did just moments before.

  I kick my feet back and forth.

  Still unable to contain the anxiety growing within me, I try humming a song.

  I glance down at the towel on my arm. The blood continues to seep through the towel soaking the white material with the red serum; evidence of the hunger they have fed me.

  “I had no other choice; they had made sure of that.,” I think in my mind.

  I take in a deep breath and release it slowly, trying to relax my frantic heart. It helps but only for a moment, so I repeat the ritual until my erratic heartbeat subsides to a healthy rhythm.

  The only door in my room opens. Immediately, the sweet aroma of human flesh escapes through his clothing. A young man walks in. He is holding a tray. I need not ask what he has brought me, I can already smell it. He now, has my undivided attention.

  My fever returns.

  In an awkward, jolting movement I leap from my bed.

  I need what he has, and what he has, is the flesh that I desire. The door behind him slams shut. The others have made him captive. I, will make him my next meal.

  Now standing next to him I rest my head on his shoulder and take in a deep breath. Blankly he stares down at me.

  The aroma of his flesh overcomes any other fragrance in the room. Letting out a soft moan, I lick my lips, take in another deep breath, and savor the bouquet of his yumminess. I do not care what is in the tray; what I want, only he can provide.

  Slowly cocking my head to one side and then the other, my glaring eyes never lose sight of his brown eyes.

  He does not appear nervous or scared in the least. This surprises me. If he knew what I was wanting, he would run…without hesitation he would kill me.

  I continue to take in the aroma of his flesh, all the while my mouth watering; saturating a small area of his uniform. My heart beats in excitement.

  Just a small bite of his milky-white flesh will satisfy this horrific craving.

  Pressing my face against his neck, my blonde hair blankets part of his flesh. Blood from my face smears on his skin but does not mask his distinct smell. Seduced by his aroma, I continue to breathe in the potent smell of freedom from my pain… him. My breathing quickly escalates to a rapid panting.

  Uncertain of my next action the man does not move.

  "Just one taste," My mind suggests.

  Wanting more, I allow my tongue to slip from my mouth. I can feel his jugular vein pulsate against the tip of my tongue.

  My body shivers in anticipation. I must have a taste of his delectable flesh.

  “You smell delicious,” I whisper, drool seeping from the corner of my mouth.

  The man takes a step back.

  “I have fffood for you,” He stammers.

  His voice, now that of uncertainty, he stutters as he speaks.

  I lunge forward, grab his arm and lightly bite it; but I do not break the skin.

  “I see that,” I look up at him and say, licking my lips.

  The man looks at me, his smile has now vanished. My attention is not his for the taking. I grasp his arm tighter.

  “You don’t have to do this,” He whispers. “If you let me go I promise I will come back for you and get you out of this place.”

  In a kind gesture the man brushes my hair from my face. His hands are now shaking. as is the rest of his body. Still holding his arm I glance up at him. His kindness is something that I have not felt in a while. For a brief second I rest my face on his hand and take in the warmth and kindness that he is bestowing.

  “They can only feed you the desire,” He says beneath his breath. “It is up to you to do what you know is right.”

  With my face still resting against his flesh, I press my face harder against his hand in hopes that the compassion that he is bestowing upon me will set me free from the pain I am feeling. But, try as I might, Iany empathy I feel for the man quickly fades.

  “I have been watching you,” He continues. “You are not like the others. You have an inner strength. You can fight this.”

  The man speaking is obviously unaware of the amount of drugs that remain streaming through my veins. I do not care about his promises nor his desire to live.

  Never losing eye contact, I continue to glare at him.

  “Please,” He begs, taking another step back.

  With him remaining my prisoner, his arm is now stretched away from him.

  Although I am much shorter than the six foot tall man, I fear him not. I charge at him, knocking him to the floor. The sudden strike of violence causes the man to drop the tray. The tray is hurled to the other side of the room, landing unscathed.

  The empowerment that the drug feeds me is too much for him; I am in control. He will not be able to escape the wrath I am about to put on him.

  “Death for you may not come easy,” I growl.

  Now sitting on his chest, his body is pinned down by my strong arms. Leanin
g forward to take my first bite, I expose my blood stained teeth.

  Desperate, he squirms beneath me, but remains hostage to my strength.

  "There is no need to fight," I snarl. "You can not escape me."

  With great power I shove his head to the side and lean down.

  The warm flesh of his neck feels natural between my teeth.

  I long to feel his blood flow down my throat.

  “Please don’t do this,” He whispers. “I can help you and the baby.”

  My consciousness begins fighting against my desire; but I yearn for his pleading to continue. A part of me finds the game that I am playing with him amusing. Someone needs to suffer as I have. He just happens to be the one here.

  I chuckle at the thoughts streaming through my mind.

  “I know you don’t want to be like this,” He continues. “And I am the only one that will help you. You can trust me.”

  His voice suddenly becomes familiar to me, but yet his identity escapes me. I release his flesh from my teeth and sit up; his arms and body remaining hostage to my strength.

  “Why should I trust any of you?” I ask. “You are the ones that have done this to me, at least one of you should suffer.”

  “Because I can help you,” He whispers, attempting to release my arms from his.

  “Just eat what is in the tray,” He continues. “It will satisfy your craving and calm you down.”

  I glance over to where the tray landed. It is only about ten feet from us.

  “Please,” The man begs. “They have put a drug in the meat that will help you relax. It will not harm you nor the baby.”

  Releasing the man from beneath my grip, I rest on the tiled floor and try to gather my thoughts. Once I feel composed and a bit more in control of my actions, I crawl over to the tray.

  Two distinct smells escape the closed container; one that of blood and the other, raw meat.

  After undoing the latches on each side I lift the lid.

  “Eat the raw hamburger first,” the man suggests.

  Taking the pound of meat into my hand, I devour the blood-soaked hamburger; swallowing most of it without bothering to chew.

  The man had spoken the truth; within seconds I no longer have the desire to rip him to shreds.

  “Can I please approach you now? He asks.