His impressive scowl carved deeper into his ugly face, but it still wasn’t enough to lure him into the fold.
I had to control my position. If they closed the circle at my exposed back, that would be the end for me and my reputation.
Reluctantly, I side-stepped into the padded cell, backing into the furthest corner. A full-length mirror dominated an entire wall, reflecting the scene from all angles.
I’ll enjoy this.
I tracked their advance with a predator’s precision.
They all followed except for Fern, who locked the iron door behind them, enclosing a supposed clinically insane psycho in a room amid three victims.
The first came tunnelling forward, her motions amateur at best. She was the only female in the group. I panicked. I’d never hit a girl before.
Reacting on instinct alone, I blocked her assault, and when my punch was about to make contact, my fist unfurled. Instead she copped an open-handed palm straight across the face, the slap hard enough to snap her neck to the side. She was dazed, her footwork shotty when she tipped to her knees.
“Sorry,” I said, in a tone that wasn’t sorry at all. “Gender equality and all that.”
Crouching low, I had little time to prepare for the next. His face was red, eyes bulging from their sockets, veins popping from his flesh.
“You have to lay off the steroids, man. They won’t help you in this fight.”
His reply was a chesty snarl, more animal than human. I was impressed. If it was anyone else, they’d probably be intimidated.
We parried a few shots, his technique better than the last one. In the end, his anger overshadowed his defensive skills.
When he charged forward for an offensive strike, I dodged. Rotating back to build momentum, I launched a kick forward. He raised his arms to defend his head, realising too late that wasn’t my aim. My boot ricocheted into his solar plexus, his chest concaving at the sudden impact. He immediately keeled over, gasping for oxygen to fill his deprived lungs.
I cracked my neck from side to side, ready to disable the third and final, when a distinct click and sharp hissing sounded from above. Gusts of white vapour filtered through the vents in each corner of the ceiling, the space filling with thick smoke at an alarming rate. The two guards closest to the oncoming gas began to cough and clutch at their chests.
Fuck this for a joke.
I ripped my jacket off and knotted the sleeves tightly around the lower half of my face as a makeshift filter. Using my last remaining strength, I proceeded to slam against the mirrored wall, hoping it led to an adjoining room, knowing I’d never get through the iron door.
Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out!
My steps staggered, my feet heavy.
It was harder and harder to lift my limbs. My brain was foggy, thoughts delayed and disjointed. All my focus was consumed by the one and only need for escape.
My throat contracted and my legs buckled beneath me as I faltered down to one knee.
The mirrored wall in front abruptly cleared into a window, blue eyes staring back at my crumpled form, filled with sheer hatred.
Fern held his crooked nose as blood continued to pour down his body. He pushed a button on a side panel and spoke into a microphone, his voice rebounding through the room.
“You really are a fucking psycho, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, so we can cure you.”
“YOU’RE A FUCKING PUSSY ASS BITCH!” I screamed, my throat strained from the poison. Raising a finger, I pointed straight at the vile fucker through the display window. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” I promised.
He laughed. The idiot actually laughed at me.
My body shook from murderous intent. Or was it from the medication racing through my bloodstream? Either way, I was lost to it.
“You, kill me? After what they have planned, I find that hard to believe.” He laid a red-stained hand against the glass, smearing the surface with his decrepit lifeforce. “You think you’re special? You think you’re important? They’re going to drill a hole in the middle of your fucking skull and turn your brain into goo. When we see each other again, I’m going to have to talk to you in single syllables. I will remind you of this little conversation, but I doubt you will even remember,” he finished with a triumphant grin.
In one last-ditch effort, I roared with all the energy I had left, my fist launching forward, using his head as the target. My bones screamed at the force—which was entirely worth it when the window splintered on impact. Absolute satisfaction buzzed through my system as the last image I processed was Fern’s face, draining of all colour. The protective glass between us shattered to the ground, and I along with it.
Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, light intermittently filtering through before evading me once again. Distant voices resonated through my hazy mind, trying to differentiate each person and what they were saying.
Scuffed footsteps approached my limp body (that would not respond to any of my demands). “Look at this damage. I told you I wanted this to be clean. There are four unconscious staff members here, Fern. Why was the gas released while they were still in the room?”
“I apologise, sir.” I know that voice, that surly bastard’s voice (which was thankfully still laced in pain). “It required a lot for us to detain him. We could only subdue him through the gas, which wouldn’t have been effective if the rest of my team weren’t able to keep him here.”
A dramatic huff immediately followed, which could only belong to Manager Burner. “It’s too late now. Take him into theatre. Dr Mudlark has everything prepared. We are going ahead as planned.”
“Yes, sir.” The gutless pussy.
Distantly, I could feel my body being dragged and lifted (not fucking gently, either). Up and down stairwells, pushed and pulled through doorways, the turbulent motion making me dizzy.
One image recurrently dominated my mind: the mysterious siren who charged into my life. During my whole stay in Oakview, she was my one single regret, the aftershocks of her loss cutting deeper than the knife she’d previously held against my throat, more directly stabbing into my chest.
They strapped my limbs and head to a wheeled stretcher in the centre of a clinical operating room, surrounded by hospital trolleys of medications and equipment. A high-pitched sound pierced my ears, the distinct hum of a power drill rotating at speed. Fern’s words played on repeat.
They’re going to give you a fucking lobotomy. Get up. GET UP!
I thrashed against the restraints, releasing a desperate, almighty roar.
