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Knuckle Crack The Bone
The sound of a whip cracks, as blood trickles to the floor and a muffled scream can be heard. A man no more then 20 old, his silhouetted figure can be seen bound and gagged. One arm free. The arm of his tormentor. The arms hand has a whip in it, as it cracks down, on the mans’ back! The silhouetted figure screams through the gag. More blood! At this point the man is getting dizzy from all the blood loss. He thinks to himself one more whip, one more slice off the skin. As the whip cracks down the arm looses strength and the man collapses on the floor.
~The Next Day~
A man can only take so much of white collar life before he looses his dream, his destiny thought an 19 year old man named Grimoire.
Grimoire worked at an office building as a full time bill collector sure its not the greatest job in the world… but the pay is good and the health is even better. He just sat all day at his office desk, taking trash talk from random people he doesn’t know. He thought to himself that the world is always so critical these days, and that there is no use trying to argue with an average human. They’re all pigheaded be it American or not.
I don’t ever have time for girls anymore. After high school I just gave up hope trying to find one, my outlook on life was so cynical it was depressing. It wasn’t like I couldn’t get girls either. They were lining up to meet me (or at least it seemed sometimes) I just didn’t want to be bothered with it, so I told them he has a fiancé. A bold lie for someone such as me. I am considered to be a very attractive young man, top of my class… but lazy, I never went to college due to my severe dislike for school. So I never understood why women enjoyed my company so much.
I was working on a Thursday afternoon an everything was the same…same old pointless arguments on the phone, same old lines, same old jack asses, same old punch lines from office idiots with no dreams, no drive…save for his lunch break. I went to the local bookstore to pick up a book I haven’t had time to buy yet, called The Dunwich Horror. As I opened the door to the bookstore I noticed they had a new employee. She was surprisingly stunning! The look about her just captivated me, kept me mesmerized. I stared although I did it in secret…but then…she approached me, I didn’t know what to think. When she spoke something, I was dreading the words that were about to come out of her mouth.
“Do you need any help sir?”
He sighed with relief thinking she was going to ask him out.
“Yes, I would like to find a copy of the Dunwich Horror. Do you know if you have it?”
He said this for the sole reason of seeing this woman. Fore he already knew the bookstore through and through. She smiled, and with a huge grin she exclaimed
“OH Yes I do know where they are I just bought that book last week, I love Lovecraftian Tales.”
I was astonished that a pretty girl like her even liked horror. Let alone knew about the Great Lovecraft. She then started leading me through the halls, which was odd because they were just around the corner on the back wall. As she winded through the shelves like a maze she made small talk, how are you? Where are you from? That sort of thing… but then the unthinkable happened, just when I thought I was home free, never to see this beauty again. Never to hear her angelic voice. She asked me out on a date. Unable to refuse a women of this…this…. aptitude. I stumbled a meager and un-intriguing yes.
~Later that evening…~
I moan in sweet agony. As I take the heavy cast iron, Ball and Chain, I named it Relief. I strike hard against my skin the spikes dig in. Blood explodes out of me, as if someone just set off a bomb, next to my back. I’m done with that device…only once per week I have to limit myself in order to keep control of my Insanity. I then take a huge needle and shove it into my urethra. As I gasp for air the blood, I can feel it pouring out, like water into a glass. I start attaching needles all over my body. I must resemble Pin-Head by this time. Then I start shoving each and every one of them in. Slowly at first. Then I jam them as hard as I can. Blood oozes out of the tiny little holes they make. As I pull them out. I decide that’s enough for one day.
~The Next Day~
We went to a fancy restaurant, or at least fancy in my eyes. My Treat. We had small talk, she talked a bit about herself, and I shared a bit about myself. Give a little take a little ya know? We were always careful to use “What Ifs”, and never full out for sure 100% statements, it’s just the way things worked. Then she asked the most dreaded question of them all…
“So how is your family?”
I answered shaking, “I umm… I don’t really know how there doing. They …um...really aren’t around anymore…”
She compassionately said “ oh my I'm so sorry to hear.”
I just thought to myself leave it at that. Come on. Grimoire don’t do this, don’t ruin this. But alas I couldn’t lie. I said. “ No…no there not dead…. they disowned me as soon as I turned 16.
She stumbled upon herself. Then composed her figure and face. I knew it was over; she was going to ask for a reason. I was done for, the dream that hasn’t even started. Shattered.
She said, “ Well I suppose we all have our problems.” And smiled like she was reassuring me that everything was going to be all right. I don’t know how I mustered the courage to smile back but I did. The date was over it was 10 o clock. And she told me she didn’t wanna go home. So we did the next best thing… The Park! We went for a stroll in Arkham Park. The moon was full, and it seemed like it was close enough to touch! I just wanted to pluck it out of the sky, and give her the moon. We walked in an endless walk,just talking. About politics, environment, war, genocide, upbringing…that’s when she asked why my parents abandoned me. I didn’t answer I just said they didn’t agree with one of my lifestyle choices…and she left it at that. We bantered for a tad longer but nothing serious. We ended up walking away from the park and started in the direction of her house. We got there, and she leaned in. What I was assuming was for a kiss. I panicked I didn’t know what to do, I mean yea I kissed plenty of girls, but never anything with feeling, with passion. She told me to don’t worry about it, if I wasn’t ready she would understand. I told her no I wanted this for us. And I leaned in, kissed her, it felt like fireworks were exploding in my chest, the balled-up excitement, all let loose. My heart melted, I was forever more putty in her hands. I knew then I loved her.
~ That Evening ~
I went straight to bed, past the needles, past the chains, past the whips, past my Relief. I didn’t need any of these tools tonight for rest. I was satisfied with just a kiss.
The next few days she didn’t return my calls, I called seemingly nonstop, no answer. I threw the phone it smashed against the wall, the battery and back came off the phone, I looked at it, and decided f*** it I need some relief.
I enter my chambers, oh it seemed like a century has passed. My Relief hanging there, I thought it would be take too much out of me, if I used that too night, I NEED to continue for a long time tonight. I enter the bathroom which was oddly bright and the setting was eerily positive compared to the next room, I stair into the mirror. I see myself, even though I see nothing. I think I’m useless, I’m ugly, no women could ever love me, they just want to use me. Then I did something unexpected to myself, anger filled me to the brim, so much so I lashed out at the image of myself, shattering my thoughts of self doubt, and the mirror alike. Then I fell top the floor asleep in anger.
“I stand up, look at the shards around me, anger still fuming out, I see a razor sharp shard, and pick it up, digging into my chest, carving all sorts of symbols, unaware of what I was doing, just knowing I was doing it. I carve so deep the blood loss is starting to make me cold, but I don’t care I continue, cutting, bleeding, sowing my hate, into my flesh. When im done I move unto the arms, carving the same types of shapes but yet somewhat different, one would think my body is a gateway too hell by this point. My arms are full, I move unto my legs. I was careful not to cut anything important, no arteries, no Achilles heel. Then I walk out of the bathroom, enter the dreary chambers of my torment, I grab a torch, I light it, I start to burn the blood, and my body alike. I light a cigar, and put it out on my right hand, I moan in ecstasy. And I light it again and put it out in the other hand. I am still bleeding from all the cuts, I start to get blurred vision. I stop try and stand and I hit the floor hard. As I lay there, blood oozing out.
I wake up from a long nights rest im sitting in my chambers…but didn’t I pass out in the bathroom? This is certainly weird. I had a dream, strange even for me, that I was carving things into my chest, as if I was trying to open a gate to somewhere using my body as the rune marker. I stand up blood all around me, just seemingly bucket loads of it. I stop and notice I’m cut from head to toe. All over. I gasp, and think out loud, holy s***! It wasn’t a dream, but I don’t have any tangible memory of doing this, but who needs memory when you got the markings to prove it!
~The next day~
Well I took a weeks worth of vacation for time to heal, so no more work, no more frustration for at least a week. I got out of bed in extreme pain. The agony I felt. It was so intense that I could barely move, I never hurt myself to the extent of feeling the effects this much before. It felt like I was on fire! Then the phone rang, IT WAS HER! Oh god the sound of her voice! It was angelic! She told me that she had to go away for a few days, that she had to go help her father, because her mother had a heart attack. Oh thank god! She wasn’t avoiding me! The anger at myself began to swell up, and I pushed it back down with my light. My love. I smiled at this. She wanted to see me, but I couldn’t. How could I in this condition? She insisted. I told her I’m not feeling well, that I might have the flu. She told me she didn’t care; she just wanted to be held by me. I told her I can’t. For your sake, But when I’m feeling better for sure.
~5 days later~
No …episodes for a week. I think im finally done with this…this monstrous act. Then she called. I told her im feeling better, (which was very true all my wounds have almost healed.!) and she insisted on coming over, I try to sway her to meet me at the park but its useless.. The girl of my dreams, and she is gonna leave me for a stupid habit. DAMNIT! Why must this happen to me at this time? I cant handle this! She hung up and she headed over….
I quickly locked the door to all the tools of my prior endeavors. And cleaned up my apartment the best I could. She lived only 10 minute walk away from me, so I didn’t have much time, I wiped the left over blood off of everything that I once bled on. I picked up the tools that I use to use. And Then the bell rang. I hurried throwing things under the bed. Getting my story ready in case she finds anything. Then I run to the door, answer it. And greet her with a kiss. We start to talk she wants a tour of my apartment. And I give it to her, but I don’t show her the room that she seems to be interested in the most. Then I bring her to my bedroom, and we sit on the bed. She notices some blood on the carpet she asked what that was and bent down to examine it. She saw them… she saw my tools… the horrible aberrations of my vices. I told her…nothing. I was speechless. I just turned away. She asked me what they were used for…I mean not everyone has pins and needles and torches under their bed! I said….I’m a masochist…that’s why my parents abandoned me. She told me its alright…she had spaces between her words though, and it looked as if she was going to throw up. Then… she does something that makes my stomach twist and turn, I feel sick, like someone just punched my gut. I think its called Gut-Rot. She sat there still. She grabbed the whip, she smacked her hand with it. And asked are you ready?