The Descent Chapter 4: Muscle Spasms Part 2

Full Novel Synopsis: Sequel to 'The Spiralling', itself a sequel to the Kick-Ass (2010) movie. However, this novel can be read on its own. After Big Daddy died, Mindy was driven mad, subdued by Dave, and locked away in an Institute after killing all who she deemed responsible but Dave. Will she recover? What will happen next to a New York without her nor the Motherfucker? Elements of the Kick-Ass 2 (2013) movie and comic series will be taken in.

The Descent

Chapter 4: Muscle Spasms Part 2

I had scarcely left the bathroom when I heard a yell from inside. It was more like a scream, a little girl’s cry of help for her big brother. Something else was freaking her out other than a nightmare. God is wrong this time! My mind was racing through the possibilities as I swung the door open. Mindy’d put on a towel just in time for me to avoid seeing her buck naked – and thank God for that, as I don’t know what that might do to her, “Mandy, what’s wrong!?” She was whining quite a bit even after I came in, and she was looking at her own arms, her fingers running down – I had answered my own question – her old wounds, which by now were thin white lines running all over her arms, right up to her shoulders and then further in, I wouldn’t want to know how far in. They were somehow even lighter than her anaemic skin tone.

“What happened to me?” She was close to tears, but at least not there yet.

“Mandy, you were in a…” What? Surprisingly I hadn’t thought of a fake origin story for her, and the doctor didn’t give me any suggestions either. I tried to think of something, but the good stuff was eluding me just when I needed them. Not wanting to look suspicious, I went with the best one off the top of my head, “Bus accident.”

The truth was far, far worse than that. The truth was something even a sane person such as me could barely take. Back in the day when Mindy could no longer cope with her real father’s death and went crazy enough to grow a new dark self, this new dark self LOVES pain. If there was such a thing as a Cenobite, Demoness would be one of them.

“Is that why I can’t… remember?” She asked – as Mandy, Mindy was far more curious, probably because she had so much to learn as opposed to her old self. I sighed, not for her, but for my predicament. I was never a compulsive liar, and most of my lies had something to do with Kick-Ass, you know, fighting crime and saving the world (or at least New York)?

“Y-yeah, that’s why.” My latest lie stung – I couldn’t even tell her what had happened to her own body. I could only feel glad that she didn’t have to know what I know, yet I didn’t want to feel too comfortable. Somehow, she took it all in without even suspecting that I was lying. An innocent Mindy was the other thing I had to get used to, other than lying.

“Oh, Mindy…” I whispered to myself – I was getting wound up tight because of all this.

“Did you… say something, Dave..?” Mindy’s voice caught me off-guard.

“What? Nothing! I didn’t say anything!” She brought me back to reality, to the fact that I nearly slipped up. The next time I looked at her face, I was thankful that all I saw was confusion, bewilderment. Good, she didn’t hear that, I thought guiltily, felt like a rat, “When you’re done, come down and meet dad. He’s been waiting for you.”

She’d woke up just in time for me to introduce her to her new big daddy over a bowl of cereals. Except dad made something else, a special to welcome Mindy into the family. While he was busy setting up the dishes, I was waiting at the living room, always afraid that something else might happen.

When I heard her walking down the stairs, not exactly quiet and stealthy, she was cringing, hugging the far side of the stairs, as though afraid that an entire army of giant locusts was waiting for her. She was incredibly shy, and it took away the little smile I had mustered at the thought of my dad and her meeting. And by the time she was in my dad’s gifts, she was a 180 degrees turn from Hit-Girl. I could barely recognise her. “Nervous?” Her face says it all, there was no need for words.

“How is dad like?” She whispered timidly as I joined her near the foot of the stairs. She was staying on it, as if the first floor was made of radioactive acid, “Will he… make me do a hundred push-ups every morning or… something?” It sounded like a residual memory if there ever was one, though she didn’t look like she was used to a hundred push-ups. As I looked at her eyes, I could tell that she doesn’t even know what she was saying.

“No, of course not! Why would you think that?” I remembered Doctor Paul’s words. If there was a residual memory, I had to stamp it out, push it aside and replace it with something else. Until she ‘gets over it’, “C’mon, Mandy, you’ll like him.” And of course, there’s lying 101, “Just like how you used to. You loved him, Mandy.” If anything, it got her down the stairs. “Dad! Mandy’s downstairs!”

We walked over to the kitchen. Mindy refused to budge until I hold hands with her, and even then, she was hiding behind me, poking her head out. I would have said ‘used me as a meatshield’, but that just doesn’t work anymore. As we got into the kitchen, dad was just done setting the table. Orange juice and banana pancakes, a little singed but not much, the ideal suburban breakfast.

“Hey, little pal! How’re you feeling?” My father surprised even me. He was a little more active than usual. I’d like to think that Mindy had really brought some life into the house just like how he said the family needed a new kid.

I could feel Mindy getting deeper behind me before stepping out again. “Erm… Better?” I could tell that he was scaring the new kid in the house with his enthusiasm a bit, but in the end, I didn’t really do any better in the beginning. Plus, at this point, Mindy was afraid of everything, so there was never anything personal left.

“C’mon in! Here’s your seat, make yourself comfortable!” Dad invited Mindy to the dining table, pulling her chair back for her, but I had to egg her on a few times, “Today’s a special day! So I cooked up something special for our special little girl, Mandy!” I sat myself down opposite her on the table. She was looking at me for advice, cringing without knowing why she was cringing, confused (residual memory?). I gave her the ‘roll with the program’ look even though I could sympathise. My dad hadn’t done pancakes for years. Alice Lizewski, my mom, used to do it for us every week, and my dad would usually help out. Ever since her death by aneurysm, it became a dead tradition. To have it out of the blue like this was weird even for me.

When dad was done washing up, I took up my fork and knife but he stopped me. Looking up, I could already see him wagging his finger, “Ah, ah, no, Dave. Prayer first.” Speaking of dead traditions, there’s another one. As dad was leading the prayer, I opened an eye and took a peek at Mindy, who looked entirely unnatural as she was clasping her hands in prayer. The poor thing was made entirely out of confusion. I had no doubt whatsoever that she had never done this before, not even back when Big Daddy was still alive and all was well. Forgiveness wasn’t exactly in their bible.

The first thing that Mindy reached for was her glass of orange juice. She did look thirsty, among other things. “How was it? Good?” Dad asked after she took a timid sip. Mindy seemed unsure of what to say. She just turned and smiled at dad – it was a bigger smile though, “That’s my girl.” Dad’s own smile was a fresh one. He hadn’t done that for a while, not even with me. “I love you, Mandy.” And he was already stroking her head like she was his very own. I hadn’t the experience to comment on that. Maybe he did want a daughter SO bad, or maybe she’d become the thing his fatherhood needs ever since I checked out (largely) recently. Mandy, who was looking timidly down at the table, smiled meekly. She seemed to like everything so far.

Dad started cutting his pancake, took a bite out of his own creation. Mindy seemed overly obedient, and was waiting for him to do the honours, “Oh, it’s better than I thought! Give it a try, Mandy.”

Then Mindy took up her fork and knife from the table. At first, I was eating my own pancake and appreciating dad’s masterpiece, but when I looked at her, I nearly spat them out had they not gone the other way down involuntarily, “Mandy, is your hand okay?” I asked, horrified. It didn’t help that I nearly choked. I couldn’t move. I was frozen, my own knife stuck in my own hand. Her knife-hand was visibly shaking, and my dad was sitting beside her. When she saw her own trembling hand, she looked shocked herself, and dropped the knife promptly. Didn’t stop it from shaking, and that terrified her. I was nearly shitting my pants. Dad was on to it quick.

“Must be muscle spasms.” Dad was off his seat quickly, massaging her left hand and arm. The trembling went away soon after, “Don’t worry about it, sweet pea. Happens to everyone all the time, right Dave?” He looked at me, and I nodded affirmatively. Yeah sure it does, “Here, lemme cut your pancake up for you…”

After that episode with the killer hand, I’ve got to admit, when it was time to leave for school, I wasn’t entirely willing to leave dad alone in the house with the girl who used to be Demoness.