Revenge story I wrote a while back. It's a bit graphic towards the end.
Stitches
Muttering to myself, twitching and jerking with every tiny movement, I rose from the cold grey concrete floor and sat upon the pathetic cot against the colourless wall. This was what they had reduced me too. A husk of my former self, a shell full of nothing but memories. No emotion, no feeling. Just the never-ending stream of memories that churned through my mind, eroding it away. They had made sure I would remember. I could not forget. Something so simple. You would think that stripping away a persons sanity would be difficult, but all you had to do was open a door and never let it close. I was one of the first, the guinea pig. They’d blasted my door off its hinges. But I would destroy their home. They would pay for what they had done to me, how they had cut into my brain, rending it apart as easily as meat from a bone.
Incisions. Cutting, digging, probing, piercing. Each laceration caused more pain, more torment. They stripped my mind, my humanity. And so here I sat. A broken man held together so tightly that the jagged pieces were ripping me apart. But I would not simply be swept away. I would use what they had shattered me to. I had sharpened these shards of my soul to an edge.
Footsteps. First they were distant, a tiny sound, a raindrop falling into the ocean. They grew louder and louder, rain followed by sleet and hail until I knew the storm had arrived. A shadow loomed outside the tiny square window set into the cold iron door across the room. The door rose, sucked into the wall above, and in its place stood a bloodless coat. It approached me slowly, seeming to hesitate at every step. It knew something was wrong, something was different, but it had a job to do. Stretching forth it’s long bleached sleeve, it grabbed me. Pain shot down my arm. The pressure was like a vice, clamping down, shutting off the blood. My arm began to palpitate, each throb sending fire through to my fingertips.
Pulling me from the room, It dragged me into the corridor outside. The sleek sound of the door closing behind me brought a genuine smile to my face; I would never again have to witness the monotony of that room, nor the tiny scratch marks etched deep into the concrete around the door.
The coat continued to force me forward, the sound of our footsteps reverberating down the hall. Fluorescent bulbs shot forth radiant light; suns that blinded my nocturnal eyes. The hall was completely desolate, save for the rhythmic thump of feet on stone. Slowly my eyes began to adjust to the brightness of the lights. I’d never left my cell conscious before. No doubt it planned on never returning me to that cold empty room. The hall stretched away into the distance, a never ending unchanging passage of concrete . Before my malevolent captivity I would have wondered at how such a bleak and barren place could exist, but now I knew all to well. I knew how far a man could sink, how far he would go in order to save himself. I hated them for what they had done to me, and what they had made me do to myself. How they had reduced me to but a shadow of my former self. But their actions would not go unpunished. They had invited Nemesis, and she had chosen me.
Suddenly the corpselike cloak by my side stopped. Rather than stopping as well, I continued to walk, marvelling at the light of the bulbs overhead. They captivated me entirely. So bright, so full of energy and warmth. I stretched out my mind, my awareness, looking to become one with the light, to be free of broken body and haunting memories.
Blinding pain overtook me. Sinking to my knees I screamed, a scream that came from the depth of my soul, a scream I could not stop. I toppled backwards, my head smashing against the concrete floor. I felt blood begin to pool in my mouth, so sickly sweet it made me gag.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain began to recede, but the memory was fresh and clean. It would forever remain that way. Never sinking away, but remaining as strong as any new wound. Gradually I opened my eyes. Darkness remained. Looming over me was the white coat. It seemed to consider me a moment, this shattered figure, huddling on the ground like a child. Moaning, I moved and squirmed on the ground, searching for some spot from which to rise. Each movement caused the birth of new pains, and the return of old ones. The sleeve of the coat above shot forth, grasping the collar of my tattered robe. It pulled me to my feet with no apparent effort, as easily as one would squash a bug.
Without giving me time to consider the cause of that horrific moment, the coat pushed me onwards. What had caused that searing pain? Had the coat done something? I turned my head towards it as it followed my footsteps. It seemed completely unaware of my presence, yet I knew that if I stopped or strayed it would immediately punish me with its iron grip, or perhaps it would make the pain return.
I shuddered at the memory and considered the hall. I was suddenly aware that it had changed. The never ending stream of concrete and stone no longer remained, rather, doors much like the one to my own room now marked the walls. We strode past uncounted numbers, all the same. Suddenly the coat pushed me at one. Not a single distinguishing mark was evident but somehow it had picked it out from the rest. It walked past me, the cool breeze as it brushed past tickled my face it was so close.
Reaching forth it’s long thin sleeve, the coat opened the door, beckoning me forward. I sensed confusion emanating from the coat. The fact that I seemed to be moving so acquiescingly clearly puzzled the ghastly cloak before me. I laughed to myself. The coat could not suspect. If it did I knew I would be dead by now.
I entered the room. Never before had my eyes been greeted by such a sight. In the centre of the room stood a cold metal table. Blood covered it. There was so much blood. The tiny drip as it ran down the arm hanging limply off the side and into the pool below. The footsteps of blood made by large boots crossed the floor. The spray that flecked the roof and walls. No matter where my eyes wandered they were met by images of pain and torture. I looked at the ruined body upon the table. The face seemed so calm, even when surrounded by so much horror. The chest had been ripped open, revealing shredded organs and broken bones. The head was cut open, showing to me a hideous sight. It seems they had been trying to replicate what they had done to me. The brain was exposed, a hideous pink ball cut and slashed.
I turned my eyes away from the figure on the table, taking in the rest of the room. Two smaller tables stood beside that holding the body, one littered with stained instruments, the other blood soaked towels. Standing with its back towards me stood another of the coats, but rather than pale, this coat reflected its work; ruined and bloody. It seemed unaware of my presence, completely absorbed in its macabre work. Protruding from the sleeves of the coat stuck two bright blue plastic gloves. One held a gleaming scalpel, its blade covered in its work, the other resting upon the body on the table. I considered the coat a moment, how it so easily brought death and pain. How it seemed to pulse with an aura of pleasure and amusement at its own work. The gluttony of it sickened me. They were monstrous, abhorrent, revolting.
I moved as quickly as I dared. Obviously I was to be the next body to lie on the cold table, but I had other plans. I sprinted forward. I felt something grip my clothes from behind, but I was too fast. I burned for revenge. I smashed into the coat by the table sending it and myself crashing to the ground in a heap. I recovered as fast as possible. Lurching to my feet I snatched at the loose scalpel. Finally I had it. The instrument of their will was now the instrument of their destruction.
The coat by the door ran straight for me, the bottom of it leaving trails in the sticky blood upon the floor. I raised my weapon. I would not surrender, never again would I submit. The coat lunged, one full of force, seeking to knock me out with a single blow. I dropped to the floor, the blood smearing my face. Regaining my feet I saw that the coats were now both standing, both prepared to face my attack. This is what I had waited for. This was my opportunity to punish them. To bring justice. Without looking I reached out to the small table by my side. My hand found cold steel and gripped it. I wondered over my new treasure, a six inch blade whose only possible reason for creation could be pain. The coats stepped back. They were full of fear. I would not take pity on them, for they had not taken pity on me.
I threw the blade straight at them, and charged. I screamed; a scream not of fear but of anger and rage. The blood soaked coat raised its arms, seeking to ward off approaching death. The blade struck, ripping the coat open. It crumpled to the floor. The remaining coat started to turn, but too late. I stabbed. Over and over I drove the scalpel into it, shredding it to pieces. Red stains began to appear but I did not falter until all that remained were tatters. I rose, taking in all I had done. Two mutilated crimson cloaks met my eyes. They did not stir. I retrieved my blade from the remains of the coats littering the floor. Nevermore would they harm me. They would haunt my mind and plague my dreams, but never again touch my flesh.
I looked once more about the room, then at myself. I dry-retched at my own appearance. A pathetic smock, ripped in so many places it barely covered me. Smears of blood now adorned it, hideous streaks reminding me of the torture they had forced me through. It seemed now that the exterior reflected that within. But I would set things right. I would be a man again. I would have my pride, my freedom, my mind and my soul. But I would not be able to escape. Never would I be able to escape what the coats had done to me. With that thought I raised the knife high above my head, its gleaming blade reflecting shards of rainbow light about the chaotic room. The beauty of that moment stunned me. It amazed me that such an image would meet my eyes in this ghastly room, a place of gruesome tortures conceived by ghoulish coats.
I smiled as I drove the blade into my own stomach. Pain blossomed within me. But it was a welcome pain, one of my own choosing. I felt the blood begin to flow through my fingers and over my hand. Darkness crawled over my eyes as I collapsed to the floor. My final image was of the coats sprawled across the ground. It was a fitting end. I knew peace.
