Julie
awoke, and the smell was the first thing she knew. Her nose was assaulted with
the scent of blood and decay. Awareness of touch returned next, telling her she
was bound to a chair, in a cold room.
She
held her eyes shut, hoping as long as she didn’t see it, she could be convinced
her other senses were lying. The stench continued to grow, creating a knot in
her stomach as she tried not to vomit.
The
sound of heavy boots coming down creaking, wooden stairs caught her attention,
forcing her to open her eyes. There was no holding back the contents of her
stomach after that.
She
was in a basement, although it looked like someone had tried to convert it into
a half-assed butcher’s shop. The wall to her left was lined with box freezers,
and in the center of the room was a large wooden table, made of thick planks.
Next to her were more chairs, some with fragments of rope still attached to
them. Almost everything, from the freezers, to the table, to the floor; were
covered with stains, ranging from a dim red, to black.
Bloodstains.
The
footsteps descended on her right, and the sight of the man that stepped down
the stairs made her tremble. He was over six feet tall, and heavily built, that
much was obvious even under the raincoat he was wearing.
“Please
don’t struggle too much. I don’t want you to get hurt.” The voice was thick and
spoke in a slow, methodical manner, as if every word was carefully examined and
measured before it was allowed to leave his lips.
Julie
started to cry, if this giant of a man didn’t want her injured, it could only
mean things even worse than death. Her eyes squinted shut as she sobbed, doing
her best to ignore the sounds of his boots on the floor as he approached her.
Something
soft brushed her cheek, and her eyes flew open, her body jerking back from the
touch. The giant was kneeling in front of her, a handkerchief in one
outstretched hand. He’d wiped away some of her tears. This close, she couldn’t
avoid seeing his face.
It
was covered with scars, and looked mis-matched. Julie wondered if he’d had a
stroke, as one side of his face was so out of place next to the other. Even his
eyes didn’t belong together, one was deep brown, while the other was blue.
She
looked at the handkerchief, he held in his right hand, which had long feminine
fingers attached to a thick, swollen palm. Seeing the twisted thing before her
was enough to jolt her out of her sobbing.
“There.
There we go. No need to cry now.” He stood up, tucked the handkerchief back
into his pocket and turned to the table.
“What…what
are you going to do with me?”
“I
am sorry for taking you so forcefully last night. You looked like one that
could help me.”
“H-help
you? With what? Why do you have me tied up like this to help you?”
“You
would run away if I didn’t. I just want someone to help me find out who I am.”
He
pulled a chair over in front of her, then dragged around an extension cord. The
long fingers pulled an electrical plug out from under his raincoat and
connected it to the extension. Then he sat down in the chair and looked at her.
He pulled the handkerchief out again and gently dabbed at her lips and chin,
wiping away the last vestiges of her vomit.
“I
would tell you my name, but I honestly don’t have one. Why don’t you tell me
yours?”
“J-Julie.”
“That’s
a nice name. I bet it suits you very well. Can you tell me about yourself?”
What makes you a Julie?”
She
started trembling again. If she stayed silent would he hit her? Beat her? If
she told him, would he sell her off? Carted out of the country in a box to be
some random man’s sex toy?
“I…I’m
twenty-six, engaged. My fiancé and I…were trying to get…pregnant.” Julie lied, trying
to come up with some kind of story, something that he might take pity on and
let her go.
The
man just nodded. “I see. You must love your fiancé very much to say yes to
marriage and to have a baby with him. So, you’re straight, then? Or maybe bi?”
“I…I’m…bi.
I like women, but I love my fiancé too.” Maybe she could get sold to a woman,
she couldn’t imagine that wouldn’t be preferable to being owned by some
strange, rich, man.
“I
see. What about your hobbies? Your job? Do you like animals?”
The
questions were starting to throw her off now. Being sold into the sex trade
didn’t seem like the kind of people who cared about the things you enjoyed.
“I
like animals. I used to volunteer at an animal rescue group. We took in stray
dogs and cats, cleaned them up and then found them good homes.”
He
smiled a little bit, his face twisting unnaturally around the scars. “I like
that. I don’t know much about myself, but I know I like animals. At least, most
of me likes animals.”
“Are
you…looking for people who share your interests? There’s websites to meet and
talk to people and groups at the library, or you could take classes at college
or…”
He
held up his other hand, a gesture that was obviously meant to stop her
rambling. Like the rest of him, this hand didn’t match either. Instead of long,
slender fingers, this hand, his left, had fingers that were short and pudgy.
The two middle fingers and thumb were shades of purple, like they were heavily
bruised, or even broken. He suddenly seemed to notice that she was staring at
his fingers and quickly withdrew his hand back under the raincoat.
“Sorry
about that. My left hand is unpleasant to look at right now.”
“I’ve
told you about me, like you asked. Tell me something about you now. It’s only
fair.”
Julie
still had no idea what he wanted her for. This wasn’t adding up to a
kidnapping, and he certainly wasn’t acting like he planned to kill her. There
was no way she could ignore all the dried blood around the room though…
“Well,
I suppose. I like you enough now. I think you’ll fit in. I don’t know who I am.
I’m trying to find myself. It’s hard when everyone is so different though. I
see little pieces of myself in other people, but then in other ways we couldn’t
be more different. I don’t understand how that works.”
He
slowly stood up and walked over to the table, the extension cord following him.
The giant stood there a moment, then grabbed the raincoat and pulled it over
his head and off. His back was a mass of scars, along with a rainbow of
different skin tones and bruises. There was a fresh incision around his right
side that still had sutures holding it closed, even as a thin line of pus
flowed down his back from it. The plug that he had stuck into the extension
cord was clearly visible now, the wires running up his back and disappearing
under his skin.
The
slender fingers of his right hand reached back and pointed to a patch of skin
that seemed to stretch from just under his shoulder to down below the waistband
of his sweatpants.
“This
was John Harmon. He liked animals too. He was forty-two and worked as a
bartender. He also had a daughter, and two grandsons.”
Julie’s
eyes widened as she noticed the scars on his back made a circle around the skin
the giant was pointing at. He turned, and she saw his entire body was a
patchwork of different skins. The left side of his chest was muscular and
covered with dark hair, while the right had a breast that sagged heavily. The swollen
left hand pointed at the breast next.
“This
was Sarena. She wouldn’t tell me her last name, but she did like animals. She
was lazy though. No schooling, no work, she only wanted to marry a rich man.”
He
walked over to the freezers now as he talked, the extension cord following him,
staying plugged into the cord coming out of his back. He dug through the freezer
on the end, eventually holding up a bag of blood.
“Do
you happen to know your blood type, Julie? It’s okay if you don’t. Seems like
most people don’t.”
He
pulled out a different bag and set it on the table, before going over to a
cabinet in the corner and rummaging through it.
“But
yes, most of me likes animals a lot, so I think you’ll fit in pretty well. That
really seems to be the thing that brings most of me together.”
“What
the fuck are you?” Julie’s voice trembled as she watched him walk around the
room, collecting various tools and setting them on the table.
“What
am I? That I can answer. I am a product of the people around me. When I was
first born, I was only made up of 4 men. But some parts didn’t fit, or didn’t
feel right, so I’ve been trying to find the right mix of people to create the
real ‘me’. Since I was born, I’ve tried adding in parts from a
hundred-seventy-three people. Men. Women. The oldest was sixty-four. The
youngest was sixteen. Straight, bi, gay. If I’m going to be honest, that’s
probably the easiest part of me to describe. I’m probably bi, because why limit
yourself to one side or the other?”
He
laid out the tools on the table.
“Unfortunately,
most of the parts don’t last. You saw my left hand. That was Samuel Carter. He
was twenty-eight, gay, liked dogs, but not cats, overweight. He was a
hematologist, but had been out of work for the last three years.”
The
giant stood at the table again, his back to Julie. He lifted a large cleaver,
and slammed it onto the table. When he turned around again, the part of his
left hand which had been Samuel Carter was gone, cut clean off. A mix of blood,
pus, and thick, brown sludge oozed from the wound. Then he was approaching her
with the cleaver and a rubber strap. The slender fingers of his right hand
grabbed her arm, and Julie felt how cold his touch was, like he wasn’t a living
thing.
He
pulled out her left arm, tying the rubber strap tightly around the bicep. Then
he grabbed her hand, spreading the fingers in the middle. In a move that was as
smooth as could be, he lifted the cleaver and brought it down on her hand,
severing the top half with her thumb and first two fingers.
Julie
screamed as the pain flooded through her body, the strap slowing the bleeding,
but still letting enough through to spurt in time with her heartbeat. He
grabbed the strap and tightened it down even more before taking the severed
hand and returning to the table.
Julie
bit down on her lip, trying to do everything she could to not go into shock.
Already she was getting light-headed, and the room was starting to spin. Then
searing pain shot up her left arm again and she went limp.
The
first thing she noticed when she woke up was the throbbing headache she had.
Slowly, Julie opened her eyes, praying the last time she opened them had just
been a doozy of a nightmare after a long, rough night of drinking. The
throbbing in her left hand told her otherwise. Something was also poking into
her right arm. She turned to look and saw a catheter had been inserted, and was
attached to a bag of blood that hung from the wall. Reluctantly, she turned to
look at her left hand. All that was left was the pinky and ring finger, the
rest was gone, and the huge wound it had left behind was charred and burned
like someone had tried to cauterize it.
She
screamed.
The
giant came down the stairs.
“You’re
awake. That’s good. I was hoping I got the blood stopped soon enough.” He
smiled, and held up his left hand. The swollen, purple fingers of Samuel Carter
were gone, in their place were tan, slender, familiar fingers, held in place
with a mixture of staples and sutures. Blood and pus oozed out along the seam,
but somehow the fingers and thumb flexed and moved. “Looks like we get along
well, after all.”
Julie
wanted to scream; but a knot had formed in her throat, making her gag. Her body
convulsed, twisting in the chair. The giant came over, looking concerned. He
reached out for her, and Julie tried to twist away from his disgusting,
jigsaw-puzzle hand even as a new wave of convulsions started in her guts. The
combination sent the chair over to one side with a crunch, the extra distance
ripping the catheter out of her arm and adding a new spray of blood to the
floor.
Then
the giant’s hands were on her, strong but gentle and firm; and cold as ice. He
righted the chair, and set about stopping the blood that was oozing from her
arm. She just sat there, gasping for breath.
“Please
don’t panic, I need your help. I need you to tell me who I am. Who we are.”
Julie
couldn’t answer if she wanted to, she just sat there and let the giant move her
arm, wrapping it up in gauze.
“Just
rest for now. I want to talk to you more, and I’ll bring down some food later
if you think you can handle it.”
Her
head hung limp as she sat there, and with what little breath she had recovered,
she sobbed. The giant stood there a minute, then slowly went back upstairs,
leaving Julie alone.
She
knew her life was over. The giant was going to take her apart, piece by piece,
and replace his own slowly rotting parts. The best she could hope for was that
she could die with the next piece he took. Maybe an arm, or a leg, something
where she could quickly bleed out before he could stop it.
Her
weight shifted to the right, settling into the chair. It creaked. She glanced over,
not willing to believe the sound was anything but an old piece of furniture
groaning at even her meager weight.
The
chair’s arm was split and cracked. It wasn’t broken, but the fall had
definitely damaged it. Julie wiggled, her arm throbbing where the catheter had
torn out. The chair’s arm wiggled with her. She stared at it, trying to figure
out what she could do to break the arm enough to get free. Another hard fall
might do it, but it would bring the giant back, and if it cracked further but
didn’t break, he might notice it. Even if it broke, she would need time to get
free from the rest of the ropes.
Part
of her wanted to just give in to despair, settle into the chair and accept her
fate; but there was a small ball of heat in her chest, a smoldering rage at the
indignity of having her hand stolen, that wouldn’t let her.
Before
she even realized it, Julie shifted her weight to the left, then threw herself
back to the right as hard as she could, pulling the chair over and smashing
onto the floor. The chair hit with a crunch.
Julie
wiggled her arm, testing the chair. The arm had broken off and was in her hand.
She could already hear steps on the floor above her, but excitement flooded
through her now. One hand being free gave her enough space to wiggle around the
rope which tied her to the back of the chair. She could easily get free if she
just had enough time.
The
heavy steps were coming down the stairs.
She
let herself go limp, hoping he wouldn’t notice the broken arm right away or how
loose the rope around her chest was. She heard him sigh as he saw her.
She
felt him lift her up and set the chair back on its feet. “Oh, look what you
did…” He was leaning down and inspecting the broken arm of the chair. Julie was
almost too scared to move, but as he leaned in, she took the broken arm in her
hand and jammed it into his face.
The
giant fell back, clutching at his face, and Julie was suddenly in a frenzy,
worming her way out of the rope which held her to the chair and clawing at the
large knots that held her other hand and feet. Free, she moved towards the stairs,
but felt the giant grab one of her ankles.
“I
wish you hadn’t done that, now I have to replace that eye.”
The
grip on her ankle was the slender feminine fingers of his right hand, but the
grip was impossibly strong. She looked down and the piece of the chair was
jutting out of his face, pus and blood leaking out around it and running down
the twisted flesh. She spun around and stomped on his forearm, over and over
trying to get him to release his hold.
“Let.
Me. GO!”
She
kicked out at his face next. He was a mountain of a man, but he was on the
ground while she was on her feet; she connected with the piece of wood sticking
out of his right eye, jarring it and pushing it deeper, finally getting a grunt
out of him.
“I
can’t let you go, Julie. You are a part of me now, I need you to stay.”
He
looked up at her with his one eye, his face expressionless under the scars and
the fluids that covered half of it. Julie was a mix of disgust, rage, and fear
at the complete lack of anger and the matter-of-factness in his voice, even
with the piece of wood still sticking out of his face.
Julie
grabbed the cleaver off the table, swinging it as hard as she could in one
hand, hacking at the hand that still clutched her ankle. Nothing spurted, he
didn’t howl in pain, just more of the disgusting mixture flowing from the
wounds, pooling on the floor as Julie swung over and over. She started
screaming as all her emotions broke free. Then she could finally pull her leg
away, the severed hand still clutching her.
“Julie,
please, you are a part of me. Help me understand us…”
“Understand
this, you Frankenstein freak!” Julie continued screaming as she stepped back in
reach of the giant as he reached for her with his other hand, swinging the
cleaver and hacking at his face. He just looked up at her with his one eye,
expressionless as she sliced up his face and head. He was pushing himself up
with the oozing stump of his right hand as he reached for her with his left,
almost unfazed by her hacking at him. Julie grabbed his left hand by the wrist
and slammed it against the top of the table.
“And
give me back my fucking hand!”
The
cleaver plowed through the giant’s wrist, separating his left hand cleanly. She
grabbed the hand and ran back and up the stairs, leaving him on the floor.
Upstairs
was an old house, badly neglected and empty, but she quickly found the front
door and dashed outside, the sun blinding her.
For
the first time, she noticed how clear and clean the air smelled, and when she
could see, she recognized where she was. It was an old housing project which
the development had fallen through. A few other houses stood around in partial
states of completion, but the road led out to a main street.
Julie
paused to pry off the hand which still hung onto her ankle, and hobbled down
the road, clutching the hand that had her own fingers and thumb stapled to it. She
wondered if they could still be reattached.
