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Angel felt the liiights in their head turn on ooone by ooone. Eeeverythiiing felt wrooong. Sooo wrooong and slooow and wheeere weeere theeey? Whaaat was goooing ooon.
Ugh.
Their stomach hurt.
They tried to move but cooouuuuldn’t, not reeeally, like they were trying but it wasn’t working, like they were in a dreeeam.
Angel heard a really weird voooiiice but it was kinda famiiiliaaarrr. Like some kinda weird boooyyyfriiieeend and his voice was really niiiiiiiiice. And it was really soft and sweeeeet. Angel couldn’t really tell what he was saaaying but it seemed like it was niiiiiiiiiiiiiice sttuuuuuufffffff so whateeeeevvveeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
“You’re doing great...”
Angel heard other stuuuff toooo buuut. It was like through a sack. Or something. Squelching soft rustling repetitive, weird sounds, waaaay faaaar ooouuut.
“...delicious...”
Angel wanted to smiiiile but couldn’t smiiiile so they just thought the smiiiiile at the voooiiice. Hopefully it saw it. Angel wanted to see the voice, too. Usually voices came out of a mouth out of a face out of a peeeeeerrrsssooon.
Angel ooopened their eeeyes but not for too looong because it was haaard, so haaard to keeep their eeeeeeeeeyes ooooooooopen. So haaard. Everything was weeeird and foggyyy and bluuurry. They felt like their
st st st st st st st stooooooooomach was
f f f f f f faaaaaaaaalling
o o o o o o ooooooooouuuuuuuuut.
“Ow uh wh uh wh mmmm ouhh uuuggghhh...”
Ugh ugh ugh ugh uuuggghh. Everything was weird and not okay not good. And trying to do stuff. Made it worse. Little tiny bugs crawling on their arms and legs and neck and especially their tummy, like a whole hive had been kicked up and swarming around. They heard something but not a something because they couldn’t hear anything because. It was like. Like a really bad hangover but they had never even been a party person not even in school because that wasn’t the type of person they were they didn’t do that stuuuuuuuuuffffffffffffff
“Oh God. Oh no. Oh God. No no no.”
Angel was starting to wriggle arooouuund, just a teeeeny tiiiiiiny bit. Their mouth was sooooo dry and they tried to swallow but. Their muscles were so relaxed. It just made them feel like they were they couldn’t they can’t breeeeaaaathe.
“You’re alright. You’re okay.”
Maybe thaaat was what he saaaiiid? He sounded woooorriiieeed. Angel made a whiiiney noise. Nnnn. Uuugh... their stomach huuurt, and so did their heeeaaad, and everything felt so sluggish and slooow. They tried to move. Their neck. Roll their head. The other side. Open up. Their eyes.
It was Lee. Lee was there but it was like, twooo Lees, going around in circles, and a weird face, and a weird mask, and a weird thing on his head with weird gloves, and, something sh sh sh sh shiiiiiiiny in his h h
h,
h,
haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand,
and he was loooooooooooooking at Angel, but not aaat Angel, kinda belooow Angel, at their beeellybuuuttooon or sooomething. Or sooomething. Lee was so weeeiiird, always looking at sooooooooomething.
Angel closed their eeeyes again because they were so tiiiiiired. And their stomach hurt so baaad they just wanted to sleeeep. They tried to move their leeegs but it didn’t wooork. So they tried to move their aaaarms but that didn’t wooork eeeeeiiitheeer.
And so the only thing they could really dooo. Was open their eeeyes. One at a tiiime.
Look arooouuund.
Look dooown.
Oh
Oh my God
Oh my God oh my God oh my God
Red gray messy slick sticky bloated bleeding clay noodles spilling left right over under out out out of of of them them them. They they they they were on a ta ta ta ta taaable. Bright bright bright light light light on their eye eye eye eye eyes. And that guy guy guy with the mask and the gloves and the kni kni kni kniiiiiiiiiiiife. Small and precise. Everything smelt clean like like like bleach and and and they didn’t know what else. Burn burn burn in their their their guuuuuuts.
Uuuuuuuuuuuugggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
No no no no no no no it wasn’t right right right right right right right right
“No.”
“No.”
“No.”
Lee was inclined to agree.
No, this wasn’t right at all.
He retrieved a huck towel, surgical blue, from the shining metal tray placed to his left, Angel sitting pretty to his right. Unfolded it. Raised it. To his mouth.
His hands were shaking. He dabbed the corner of his lips. Then dragged it across the center, to the other side. Then, next, cleaned the sweat from his forehead. He looked down, blue towel stained by red. He discarded it into a bin.
Angel was beneath him. Under the light. On the table. Over the cushion, over the cloth. Insides splayed out nicely. Neatly. He was working delicately. Gently.
Scalpel in hand, a perfect incision on a perfect body. A perfect stomach. With perfect little insides for him to play with. Dripping with a healthy body's ooze and lubrication. Gauze and antiseptic at the ready. He wasn’t hurting them. He had been so careful. He had only taken a bite. Just one bite. Only one. Maybe an inch. Maybe two. They wouldn't miss it. They would never know. There was no harm. He’d make everything right. Put it all back together again.
Everything was manageable. Everything could be fixed.
That was what he wanted. To fix. But first he had to break them. Pull them apart. That was all he wanted. He didn’t want to hurt them, it was nothing malicious. Just a desire to open them up and see what made them tick.
Only, he’d gotten carried away.
He needed to sew up that piece of them that was missing now. The part of them that had become a part of him. It was beautiful, cyclical. A cute little chunk he’d taken out of their intestine like it was always his to begin with. It belonged to him. It was him, now.
He brought the needle to reconnect the tract. He’d been sanitary. Methodical. Flushed it out, first. But it still carried the stain of all that had passed through them before. He’d made sure they hadn’t eaten anything but broth and water the day prior. Clear liquids only.
He threaded the needle through so delicately. Heard them gurgle a bit.
I know. I know.
You’re doing so good.
Had to fix them. Had to control. He couldn’t control himself. He’d gotten lost in the moment, let that ribbed morsel slide down his gullet. So he had to control them, instead. It was something he wanted to do, always, from a psychological standpoint, but was unable to. He didn’t understand the niceties of social conduct like that. He could never manipulate. Just string together broken stilted sentences and approximations of care. Performative gestures that didn’t mean anything, not really, just a method of getting from point A to point B. He couldn’t control, not in the way he wanted. He could only do the things he knew how to do.
Check for pulse. For pressure. Taking vitals. Insert the needle.
Puuuuuuush it in. God how he had missed those intimate, lovely encounters. Every Wednesday. Like clockwork. Counting the days, the seconds. Until they came back. And he touched their arm.
They never knew. So naive. Just a perfect victim. Unaware. Trusting.
And even better now. Not even conscious. Not even cognizant. Only now, they were coming to.
No. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t face them. He’d given some pretense, some excuse. Some stupid reason that they needed to trust him, and let him cut them open. And they’d believed him.
He thought it had been the right dose. It had surely been the right dose. He wouldn’t make that mistake. He couldn’t.
But it had been wrong. He’d been wrong. How could he have been wrong? He was really useless. A useless man. A wrong man.
“Nnnggghhhhllllllleeeeeee...”
Angel slurred his name, and he was hard again.
God damnit.
He brought another rag. Up to their mouth. Muffled the sound that set his head on fire.
“Sssshhhhh.” He brought a gloved finger up to his lips. Begging silence. Please. Don’t make that sound again.
“Hfwfmmhmhm?” they questioned through the cloth.
Lee felt the hot air gathering in his mask. He was choking on his own breath. Stinking and putrid. Staring down at those barely-open eyes failing to register any sort of danger or threat.
“Fffuck,” Lee breathed out. Somehow them waking up had made things. Better (worse).
His hands found their thigh. Clutched the meat there.
“You need to go back to sleep.”
Angel’s head lolled around. “Uumnggnnhrgff,” they replied through the rag.
“I know. I know,” Lee replied in an upward lilt. It was the tone you might use when speaking to a 2-year old. Or a dog. Something stupid that couldn’t really understand you. He rubbed their flesh, giving them something to focus on. “W-we’re going to give you. A liiittle more medicine. And you’ll go back to sleep.” The knowledge that they were only half-conscious, and assuredly would remember none of this — it was emboldening to him. A fearful man, that could only be brave when he knew there would be no repercussions. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Angel didn’t reply, just laid there. Maybe twitched a bit.
“I’ll take care of you,” Lee continued. Holding the syringe up, squirting a small bit out. The excess. Didn’t want too much.
“I’ll take care of you,” he repeated, to himself, shaking hand finding the vein on the inside of their arm. His mouth opened involuntarily as he shuddered out a soundless moan. Little strand of blue flowing under the surface. Pierce the skin.
He gripped the surgical table with his other hand. Gonna pass out. Gonna pass...
No, don’t. Keep it together, Lee.
He was doing this. To them.
Angel wriggled a bit more. Coming to terms with the discomfort. Coming to terms with darkness. Slowly, all that substance drained into their arm. And their neck slackened again. And their breathing flattened out; steady, uninterrupted.
“Good,” Lee said, exhaling in relief.
He changed gloves. Collected himself.
Time to get back to work.