This Is Our Future.

I glared at them. Those hands. The horrid hands that had seen everything I refused to see. The hands that blocked the good away and invited bad. The things lying on the floor. I hated my hands. Hate was actually a word that didn’t even describe the feelings I had for the monsters at the end of my arms. They were ugly and small with scars on the skin. You could tell the scars weren’t from working outside. They were from the hatred of me, hatred of others. My hands caused disgust and I was the one to suffer for their wrong doings. One thing I learned over the years was that my hands would do anything to deceive me. They would write wrong words on tests, when I myself was thinking the right thing. They would smack people without me saying they could. They disobeyed me. So the fact that they were laying on the floor now, didn’t hurt me in the least. A writer could write without hands, their words would clash with someone else’s hand writing but it would be the authors? voice no matter who wrote the letters. I would do that, if I could manage to just get out alive. The end of my arm was numb and even though I hated my hands. The memory of the person cutting them off, the pain, that’s what hurt the most. And the reality of the situation. I couldn’t just live in my mind until the brute was finished with me. Because that is exactly what she was going to do; finish me. Beat me, cut me, hear my involuntary screams.
What a sick woman. A very sick woman indeed. She wouldn’t talk to me or let me see her face. Though her eyes burned to look at that’s the only thing I would be able to memorize about her. The rest of her was hidden behind bloody cloth and rubber gloves. I could tell it was a woman, she had an immense bust. I didn’t really care who she was though. She did my arms a favor and I wanted her to let me go. My heart ached, my body ached, and I could tell my days were going to end very soon. Death had always been a slight fear of mine, but isn’t it to everyone? Just the thought of dying freaked me out. The idea that my body would be ice cold in a spacious coffin under the ground; pretty freakin’ scary. But now it was even worse, was I to even get a coffin, or even be buried? Was the woman going to display my body parts or maybe sell me to science? I had no clue what this insane girl was going to do to me. But besides my awful hands I thought about my girl. Not just the woman who was most likely cutting me up for dinner but the woman who was most likely waiting at home for me so she could start dinner. My heart broke with the thought of her sad face, wondering where I was, she was probably worried. And then it hit me, maybe this crazy girl hadn’t found my cell phone. They aren’t so common, maybe if I could just call the house. Hope filled me up, until I remember I had no hands. Then the footsteps filled my ears again, and those eyes. The eyes that stab me with hatred every time they look into my soul. The woman was back. I was trying to be a man, but I couldn’t help it, I started to cry. Just the thought of not being able to see or hear the woman I loved before I died, well, that killed me more then any physical pain could. My murderer turned her head away from me and took a needle out, she wasn’t smiling this time. I closed my burning eyes and felt a blow to the back of my head. She was beating my head in, I felt the blood drip down my neck and soak into my clothes. I floated off into another world, the pain was too much that I didn’t feel it after the tenth hit. She was still beating me as I floated out of consciousness. I felt cold. And I didn’t know how long I had been knocked out for, I was itchy all over. It felt as if I was covered by a thousand bugs. Crawling all over me; inside me. Involuntary spasms started. My whole body shook and my head kept bouncing up and down, my eyes were still shut. I was numb, I couldn’t breathe. I wished the asshole would have just killed me then. Made her stupid video or whatever she was doing and just ended my life already.
My eyes were opening slowly, there were no bugs, I was under a blanket, an itchy motherfucking hospital white blanket. I tried to move my arm and I was able to move it from below my elbow. I pushed the blanket off too see what she had done. And when I saw, I screamed. So loud that I prayed someone sane could hear me. They were back. My downfall was back. The bitch sewed my hands back on. The freaky thing was that I could move them, she had put everything back the way she had found it; every vain, every broken skin cell; every-fucking-thing like new. Imagine the insanity I was feeling. I didn’t care if I had them or not anymore, I was furious and scared and all I wanted to do was go home. Back to my wife and have her put me to sleep and wake up again in her arms. That’s all I wanted. Why was this happening to me anyways? Did I do something wrong, hurt someone? I heard those dreadful steps and decided it was time I did something. I had been down there for weeks by now, maybe, I didn’t really know, I just wanted out. Her eyes bore into me, but I wouldn’t let her put me under, I was going to fight back. Today I could see her mouth; she was wearing a ski mask. My lips were chapped and faded along with my dry and sticking throat. It took me more courage then I had to mutter anything to her. Her mouth looked hungry along with her jagged jaw. But the cleanliness of it made me wonder who she was and if I knew her, but those butchering eyes took the thought of knowing her away. I managed to squeeze a sentence out. It was foolish and a very stupid thing to say, but I said it anyways.
“Was it really that bad?” She glared at me worse then ever before and those eyes dug into my soul and killed half of me. They killed my will. I tried to fight off the feeling. And I did, once I thought of everything I would be leaving behind. My love, my father, everyone I knew. I would die if I didn’t get out of here. She mumbled something. If it was to me or herself, I didn’t know. But it was such a demon sounding voice, full of hatred and bloodlust, that I vomited up my stomach acid. She must had been starving me, I couldn’t remember eating in such a long time, which means I was living off my body fat, eating myself alive. After I puked up nothing she threw things around, not screaming, just throwing a fit. It made me smile inside to see her suffer. After that she just left me, walked up those stairs and left me in her mess and my blood. A sudden hit of realization hit me, she was human. This monster that had been holding me captive had some kind of feeling. Most of it hatred and numbness, but that means she could feel happiness and sorrow. I would make her feel sorrow. My human reactions to her made her flustered, and maybe that’s why she hadn’t killed me just yet. My torture was tearing her apart. She used to smile at my pain, joy in those blistering eyes. But I didn’t see a flame when I threw up.
This might be it. She might let me free. After all, she sewed back my hands and when I threw up she went a bit more insane. She is human and I am going to win. What I couldn’t figure out after being there forever, was what I had done. In all honesty I was a good man. Stayed loyal and true to my wife, hardly drank anything, didn’t do drugs or hurt myself, and I hadn’t used someone in years. So what sin could I have made to hurt this woman so much she would commit herself and me to this? I wondered but I knew it wasn’t much of necessary information. The lights started to hurt my eyes and the only thing I liked was the heat it gave me. In her fit the blanket flew off and I was left naked and strapped to a table. A porn-perverts dream. Right then and there I could feel death. The hunger, the aching, the blood loss. All of it welling up inside of me. It started in my left foot and leaked up my leg. The random numbing of something was intense. I couldn’t be numb, and I couldn’t let her kill me. My mind was made up; I was going to get out alive, no matter what. But if I was numb it would be hard to get free, which I would need all the strength in the world to do. My body wouldn’t listen to my pleas it just ignored the begs to feel again.
My mind focused on the heat from the light overhead. The intense hot light, like a summer day in the city. The humidity, the masses of people, the warmth and running around not being able to breathe. The heat of everyone and every building. I focused on that, but it wasn’t working the way I wanted it to. The numbness was getting faster, like it didn’t care that she could come kill me. Sleep started to take over. The heat I thought up was making my eyes heavy and my body relax. Those fucking eyelids wouldn’t stay open they kept drooping and eventually, I gave into the sleep that had been hovering over me. And for the first time, I had a dream. Not something inspirational or anything. But for the longest time, I hadn’t dreamt of anything. Dreams weren’t even dreams, they were screens of black and red. Unconscious was how I slept. And even thought this sleep was involuntary, I didn’t care, I knew I would get out, but I needed rest, to let my mind just stop without leaving the waking world in pain.
So I started to dream.
Then, I woke up.
And I was home. My wife lay beautifully next to me, her hair covering her face, the blanket wrapped around her small framed body. Her shoulder lay outside the blanket and I kissed her milky white skin. She moved slightly, hair still in her face. I buried my head into the crook of her neck and sighed. My heart exploded when her arms wrapped me into her grasp. She hummed as she stroked my hair. I was so content and carefree. It was a happiness better than a high, better then sex. Laying in bed with the one I love and having her comfort me when I hadn’t said anything. We didn’t need words, only each other. I lifter my head and went to stroke her face, but her hands held me still. I sighed and asked her to let me go. Nothing, not a voice, she hummed on. I begged her to let me see her face. She wouldn’t let me, she held my head in place. That’s when I freaked out. My body began to convulse with fear, that I wasn’t really in bed with my wife. But suddenly she released me with a worried face. She was beautiful with her white skin and lavender silky hair. Her face features were sharp and elegant. It’s hard to describe her beauty without justifying it. She is like a dove in the sunlight or rain after a hot cloudy day. Or how beautiful and graceful the sunlight is when it shines through the window. Just one beam of light and loveliness, is the best I can word her. Not even, she’s ten times more then that. I kissed her softly and we fell back into the pillows. Minutes later I was thrusting, loving her to the full extent. She was amazing, in every aspect. When we reached our climax we parted and I fell beside her. I was breathing heavy, but her breathing had ceased, which made my heart stop, jump and bleed all at the same time. Had I killed her? No, she was moving. Her body was atop mine, but it wasn’t her.
I woke up screaming with blood tricking down my face still. I was on the table, I was still captured, and I was dead inside.