Day in, Day out

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Having exchanged his life in the city, Thomas wished for a place of solitude, away from civilization and people in general. He found refuge in this cabin, a place where he believed he would no longer be bothered.

He read his book in silence. The few candles lit throughout the single room offered a mellow tone of light for him to read his book in peace before drifting to sleep.

A rustling could be heard outside. The wind perhaps. Maybe a racoon. He looked back down at his novel.

“Don’t you want to see what that sound is?”

“No, I think I’ll be fine. If I get up every time there's a sound, I’ll never finish this book, and I’ll never get to sleep. I’ll just go mad."

As he approached a good stopping point in the novel, Thomas heard another, more distinct sound almost directly outside the doorway.

“Are you sure you won’t check THAT one?”

Exhaling deeply, Thomas replied with annoyance, “Fine”

Halfway towards the door, there was a knock. Not one knock that could be mistaken for a fallen branch. But three distinguishable knocks.

Had it been a racoon, a branch, hell even a bear, Thomas wouldn’t have given a damn. But there was something very disturbing about the presence of a human. As he walked the rest of the way towards the door, tension grew. Each footstep made a creak in the old, splintering floorboards and he knew that he couldn’t hide his presence. Even so, he stopped for a moment, hoping the person would go away. But a few seconds later those three knocks came again, this time more urgent, and a voice could barely be heard outside the door, it was a woman.

“I told you, nobody lives here, let's just try to find our way back.”

A male voice responded.

“Oh and what? Get mauled by a bear? No thanks. I’d rather take my chances sleeping in this shithole.”

“Shhhhh”

Knowing now that he didn’t have a choice, Thomas opened the door, hoping to shoo the two strangers away as quickly as possible. The door creaked loudly as it slowly slid open, and the shapes of the two voices grew distinguishable in the darkness. A couple of hikers who appeared to be lost.

“I’m sorry, but-”

It was too late. The sight of them stirred those feelings again. Dammit he thought he wouldn’t be bothered up here. A foolish thought apparently. Playing tug-o-war he tried to fight those feelings, and he put up a good fight, but ultimately lost at the sight of the two hikers.

“It’s a little late. I don’t expect visitors up here around this time, are you folks lost?”

The female replied.

“Yeah, we were hiking, and ended up off trail for a while. We don’t know the area that well, think you could help us out?”

Her companion simply nodded.

“Yeah, these woods are a little dangerous at night though, there are grizzlies out there, and god knows what else. You could come inside if you’d like. I admit, it’s not great in here, but it’s better than out there. Just so you can get some rest and head back at dawn.”

“Thank you so much”

Once they were both inside, and the door was shut, they looked around the tattered cabin, a single open space dimly lit by a few candles, clearly only recently occupied by the strange man who let them in. They began to feel somewhat uneasy.

“I do apologize for the mess, I just moved in this morning.”

Thomas felt barely conscious enough to utter this sentence and whatever the hiker’s responded with, didn’t register. He felt scared and excited, his hands began to sweat profusely. He looked at the two hikers who seemed to pick up on the dense feeling in the room. The man started to make his way slowly towards the door.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be this way…”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck a rubber fucking duck.”

There are a lot of different types of people in the world, and many ways in which to classify them. One of those classifications only yields two types; introverts and extroverts. Our sailor mouthed friend happens to be of the introvertive type. When it comes to introverts, it is not common that they show their true selves to strangers and people they don’t know. Then again, even extroverts don’t show their TRUE selves. That person who only appears when it’s do or die. When it’s kill or be killed. When it’s save one person or save the world.

“This is some fucking bullshit man. I can’t believe I did that. Oh my god!”

Thomas wouldn’t consider any of his coworkers anything but strangers and in turn was never likely to show them some of the more intimate things about himself. Things like his passion for dog shows. Or even more intimate, such as the kink he had for feet. That was actually something not even his girlfriend was aware of. Nope. Poor, shy Thomas never got to sniff those sexy feet.

Thomas also had a newly found appreciation for swearing. It seemed that he started this hobby not ten minutes ago when he did the thing that he still hasn’t fully realized has been done. He committed a cardinal sin.

He had killed a man.

“Not just another average work day now was it Thomas?”

“No! It definitely wasn’t…” His voice stifled in confusion and an odd sense of terror that he hadn’t felt since he dropped acid in his freshman year of college seeped through his skin, deep into his bones and into the very core of his being.

“Who said that?”

The man who had been ranting a moment before had shriveled like a snail that had just happened across a toddler with a salt shaker. Pupils dilated, hairs standing up, moving into a defensive posture, he again asked the question, realizing the answer before the words escaped his trembling lips. “Who the actual fuck… said that?”

The voice in his head somehow whispered back “You know me.” The disembodied voice that had once held a hint of playfulness had become a dark tone that spoke only the deepest truths, said everything as it was, and with an air of utmost seriousness, demanded respect and control that it easily acquired.

Thomas did know who it was. It was him. But at the same time, it wasn’t.

The day's events all flashed through his very eyes in a second, as if he were dying. And in a way, he was.

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Waking up in such a good mood, it felt like one of those picturesque scenes where “Top of the World” by The Carpenters should be playing while a montage of morning activities occurred. And once he played his morning playlist, that’s basically what happened.

Making breakfast in bed for the girl he loved, an omelet with red peppers, portobello mushrooms and onion with a side of fresh orange juice and toast. On the way in, those cute pale toes peeking out from under the covers offered him a gushing sense of pride, love, and arousal, as they did every morning after she had spent the night.

“Hey cutie” No response.

Gently nudging her, he says, “I made you some breakfast”.

One eye opens and then the other. She yawns, stretches and turns over. As his eyes follow her, Thomas notices that the clock on his side of the bed now reads 12:53pm. It felt a little late for breakfast.

With a hint of annoyance, he left to go to the living room and turned on the television. Watching reruns of his favorite childhood television show, he found himself laughing his little heart out.

“You couldn’t at least close the door?”

He looked at her, fighting down his laughter. He felt like his mom had just caught him awake at 3am watching a movie after the “Coming soon to theaters” roared her awake. When the frantic searching of the remote wasn’t completed in time. Had he been a child, he’d be ready for a scolding, and if his father was home too, perhaps a more severe punishment.

“I made you breakfast”.

He gestured towards the plate on the counter.

“Just keep it down.” was her only response.

The door slammed shut, rendering a chill. That awful feeling when you know that you are doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing. It wasn’t that he laughed, that’s a good thing. In fact, if you don’t laugh at Billy and Mandy, there’s probably something inherently wrong with you. His conscience wouldn’t reach the conclusion, but deep down he knew what that feeling really was. What he was doing that felt so awful. It was being with her. Their relationship had become an emotionless vessel for sex and had even lost any sense of companionship. He still put effort in as he had this morning by making breakfast, showing that he cared, as he did. But that care had started to fade and didn’t seem to be respricocated as she became more complacent. When was the last time she said “I love you?”...

When was the last time she meant it?

The day wore on, breakfasts got cold, thoughts were thought, people got dressed for work, and others went to live their lives in their own houses.

The night shift wasn’t the greatest. It felt tiring sometimes to get home at 6am. Thomas worked in a hospital emergency department as a CNA. And to an extent, he liked it.

The bus stop wasn’t a long walk from the apartment and it was enjoyable to get some time to think. It’s hard to think when you’re on a bus, at work, or even at your house. The comfortability and hustle and bustle just don’t feel natural. The air outside is different, it’s like it flows through your brain a different way, dislodging the debris that builds up every day in the fabricated world we live in. That breeze brings fresh thoughts and a calmness that can even relinquish some stressors that have been weighing you down for years.

His mind seemed to be an uncleanable mess sometimes. Like there was debris lodged too deeply in the folds of his brain. He gets on the bus with that messy brain and takes a seat in the least occupied section, tuning out all noise and simply waiting for the land markers to imply his stop is coming soon. He thinks again about his girlfriend, Jessie, and even though no direct thoughts come to mind, a melancholy feeling fills him.

Thomas looks around the bus, noticing the people riding. The same people every day. Doing the same goddamn thing. To Thomas, it seems like everyone here is so mundane, but doesn’t that mean he is too? Everyone on this bus is a person just like him, with thoughts and feelings, looking at the world through their own lens. Oh how they must think of him if he thinks of them like that.

A strong feeling is growing…

That feeling getting more intense now, he looks at the elderly man to the left who’s been nodding off, a scruffy beard that could really use a trim acting as the cushion for his head that is now resting on his own chest. Something about everyone here is so uncomfortable. It makes your spine tingle and the strings in your chest all pull at the same time. He doesn’t want to be like that old man, or the chubby lady a few rows ahead who smells of pickles. If he keeps riding this bus, will he become even more complacent?

That feeling gets unbearable. Every fiber wanting to rip itself out of your body, twitching uncontrollably like you’ve drank too much caffeine, your mind talking to itself with too many voices at one time.

Without checking how far along the bus is, he pulls the yellow wire and exits. He might be a few minutes late to work, but at least he will feel better. It feels good to be back in the fresh air. To feel free to run or walk. To not be trapped between those advertisement covered windows. To feel like you have a choice. To feel like you have control.

Having jogged the last few blocks, he made it right on time. That walk seemed to clear his head a little, and even though thoughts of Jessie were still present, they were much less prominent and almost peaceful as he had been considering his options, coming at peace with some of them.

The day wore on like usual, the only issues being that two people were out and with the small amount of staff they already have, it was pretty short staffed. So it got a little busy, but that just means it went by faster. In and out go the people, lots of simple tasks. A broken bone, a small lesion, etc.

As the night got later, it got busier and Thomas found himself running back and forth, running all around the hospital, getting his cardio for the day.

“Those two assholes probably didn’t even have good reasons for calling out. I’m gonna get them back on their next shift, call out with someone else on a Saturday night. See how they like it.”

Stopping to grab a drink of water and a chat with the girl at the front desk, the front doors come crashing open. Guess there will be some action tonight. Having worked in a hospital for a while, Thomas has seen a few rather gruesome things, also just some plain disgusting things, skin conditions seemed to gross him out the most. And motorcycle crash victims were often pretty bad as well. But the fellow lying on the stretcher wheeling its way through the front was by far the worst he had seen.

Immediately he went to help as most other people in the hospital were caught up with something. The man looked like he had been mauled by a tiger, his clothes almost nonexistent as they had been shredded almost completely along with his flesh. The wounds were all different shapes and sizes. It was honestly surprising that he could somehow still be alive. But the man’s chest would rise and fall slowly. He was obviously in shock, almost calm.

“What the hell happened to him?”

“No idea, but we are taking him straight to the ICU, and you’re coming with. We’re gonna need some help.”

Inside, the elevator was almost silent. In a movie or show there’s always suspenseful or sad music, people running around and screaming, yelling for the scalpel and whatnot. But in the montages they always skip the elevator ride up. It’s quiet and somber. Where seconds feel like minutes. Where someone’s life is on the line. Where blood is spilling on the floor that somebody is gonna have to mop up later. Where the silence is broken by the small voice of a delusional man on the verge of death.

“~Donn~”

The man took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs enough to exert the words he was trying to say. Most times, when the man on the deathbed is making his way to intensive care, people don’t often listen to what they say. But in that silent elevator, with two floors to go, the four people crowded around that stretcher felt almost inclined to listen to what this man had to say.

“Don’t touch it” he said in almost a whisper, like he forced the sounds to come out with his exhale.

Another deep breath followed by a groan of pain.

“Don’t touch the blood” His lips slacked as he ended his sentence, a bubble of red floated slowly down his cheek.

The staff all looked at each other. Was there some sort of pathogen? Most likely nonsense. Thankfully they had their gloves on. The man fell silent once again, his breathing gentle, each exhale more raspy than the last. He began to shake with each breath as though he was cold. The elevator doors opened and the montage continued where it left off.

Not knowing at all what to do, Thomas awaited orders and leaned against the wall staring at the man, looking him up and down, appalled. He felt like he was back in high-school, the wallflower he always was, glancing every now and then at a girl he might want to dance with at homecoming. Nobody ever asked him to dance, and he never had the guts to ask anyone else. But this time he was asked, not by some pretty girl at homecoming, and not to do the swing.

“Hey Thomas, come here, hold this there, and remember to put pressure. He’s lost a lot of blood and we need to stop the bleeding…”

Thomas found himself getting lost in thought, so much that he was starting to apply less pressure unconsciously. Then regained his senses and pressed down again, releasing another groan from the man.

Again, doors burst open. As this wasn’t the front of the ER, it was less precedented, eliciting a look from Thomas and one of the other staff members performing less focused tasks. Another bloody man. This one with no wounds. The other staff member began to rush this new character out of the room.

When he clearly wasn’t going to leave, the staff member, a rather large fellow, placed his hand on the naked shoulder of this bloody mess of a man. Thomas, hand fixated on keeping pressure on the guy on the table, felt a squirm, and a stifled scream exit the injured man. Almost nothing more than a moan came out. Thomas’ attention turned towards him and saw his eyes widen, and his shaking become more frantic. Tears welling up in his eyes.

Another deep breath and an exhale accompanied with words.

“Noooooo… no no…”

He closed his eyes and began to sob.

Then the other man spoke.

“Aw. I’m sorry to keep you waiting honey.”

His tone was clearly sarcastic. His voice, almost deafening with authority.

“Hey man, you’re gonna have to lea-”

The staff member had begun to speak with that hand on the man’s shoulder, but he was cut off, his word ending with a snap.

Thomas had blinked, when his eyes had begun to close, his coworker was standing up. When they opened again, he was on the floor, holding onto his own arm, wailing in pain.

The doctor went for the security button but was clearly not as agile as he had hoped to be. Again, in a cocky and arrogant tone, while stopping the doctor in his tracks the man spoke;

“Oh no you don’t. You’re gonna ruin my date like that”

Another wail of pain.

Everything was moving so fast. He had only been in the room for a matter of seconds.

Fight, flight or freeze. There were two staff members left, and one froze, flat against the wall. The other, Thomas, chose to fight.

His heart began to pump noisily through his ears. His breath, shaky but steady. There was a scalpel on a table, and without thinking of the consequences, Thomas went for it.

When he was a child, Thomas’ dad had taught him how to fight. His dad was a very intimidating man, and having seen him in a fight before, he trusted everything he was taught. But he failed to remember one of the most important lessons. If you bring a weapon into a fight, you better know how to use it less your opponent be more skilled and obtain the weapon you brought. Being stabbed is far worse than a beating by fist.

The man on the table continued to squirm, the staff member with the broken arm continued to wail. The doctor hadn’t made a noise since his yelp, and the staff member who had frozen, stayed as still as a Greek hero struck by the sight of medusa, hands glued to her sides, staring in dazed confusion.

The scalpel zipped through the air but never made it to its intended destination. Thomas felt like he was in a dream where his punches were going through Jell-o, but that bloody sarcastic prick was moving through thin air.

“Seriously?”

Searing pain blew through Thomas’ wrist, and before he knew it, he was on his back and on the floor.

The man made it to his date and it was clear whose blood covered him.

“You have been an absolute pain in my ass. You know the rules. You broke them. Time to pay up.”

The sobbing continued. Eyes closed tightly shut like he could wish it all away. Like if you just pull the covers over your head, no monsters could get to you.

Now taking his time, he pressed on the chest of the sobbing remnant of a man. It sounded like a fire crackling, and Thomas watched in terror as a fist raised out of the now deceased man’s chest, holding what appeared to be his heart.

“Shame”

Thomas definitely could have stayed where he was and maybe gotten off easy. He didn’t know exactly why, but that’s not what he did. In all honesty, it was rage. Enraged with his life. Enraged with that sarcastic prick. All of these nights thinking about killing himself, trying as hard as he can not to, looking for some sort of change, and somehow, here it is. This moment will be gone, and he will return to his life. Some mundane bullshit, same shit different day, day in and day out nonsense. And everyone will ask him to tell about that bloody fucking mess in room 516B.

No. Goddammit.

So for some reason, Thomas decided this would be the moment that he would take the reins. Because why the hell shouldn’t he. If he dies, so what. There are times when he wanted that anyway. This life is disgusting. And nobody can change it but yourself.

The man was still hunched over that blood soaked table, holding the no-longer-beating organ in his fist like a child holding a fork improperly. Quietly this time, Thomas got off the floor, scalpel in hand, and wedged it right in the man’s neck.

The response was blood curdling, yet somehow expected. Almost entirely unfazed he turned towards Thomas.

“That was pretty good…

Not good enough”

With more force than a human could possibly exert, he kicked Thomas into the wall, Thomas screamed like a little girl on a roller coaster. The bloody man crouched down in front of Thomas, now defeated on the floor.

“Out of anybody here, you’ve been the most annoying. But I like that. You’ve got spunk”

At this point, Thomas was in no mood for this guy and his silly talk, and spat in his face.

“Hmmmm. I think I’ll return the favor, you little shit.”

There was no sarcasm in that sentence. Not even anger. Simply annoyance.

Thomas knew long ago that he had not made the best decisions that night, but this one seemed to be even worse than the rest. He had been disrespectful, and that seemed to be worse to this man than stabbing him.

He picked the scalpel up, dropping the heart, and swiftly grabbed Thomas by the neck with his free hand, simultaneously slamming him against the wall. He waved the dirty blade back and forth in front of Thomas’ eyes, building up tension, seeming to be having fun, yet with a very serious and frightening expression on his face. Almost the look of an insane man with his furrowed brow and mild snarl interrupted by a slight smirk, coagulated blood gelling his short hair into uneven spikes.

Without struggle he forced Thomas’ mouth open and quickly stabbed through his cheek. Then he exchanged the scalpel with the heart and in the somehow most surprising event of the night, bit into the heart, sucking on it and filling his cheeks like a squirrel. He then dropped it and placed his face forcefully onto Thomas’, spewing all of the contents into Thomas’s mouth. A lightning bolt of pain ensued, warm liquid poured profusely out of Thomas’ new cheek hole from the pressure it was being pushed in with. The man quickly replaced his lips with his hand, keeping Thomas from expelling the liquid.

“Swallow you little shit”

Scared out of his mind, all thoughts of bravery, in fact any thoughts at all, disappeared without a trace. He did as he was told, and swallowed the viscous fluid.

Thomas closed his eyes for a brief moment, looked up, and the man was gone. What he saw were listless people standing in the doorway, appalled and doing nothing. Just a bunch of sorry faces who came to watch?

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he yelled at the jaw dropped faces. Some with phones out.

Immediately after saying that, he puked up a maroon puddle into his own lap. Feeling drunk with energy and somewhat in shock, he ran past the people, ears ringing, unable to hear what it was that they were saying.

Knowing that he would be suspicious in his blood covered scrubs, he ran towards his house shirtless, dispelling the shirt in the hospital. He didn’t exactly have to leave, he actually could’ve used some medical attention. He thought about that man on the stretcher in the elevator. “Don’t touch the blood”. That same blood that now laced the entirety of his mouth, and even filled his stomach.

About halfway home, lightheadedness and irregular thoughts bombarded Thomas’ head. They were indistinguishable, overlapping each other endlessly. But beyond the thoughts and the growing headache was a more physical nuisance. Or at least what started as a nuisance but had grown stronger. Something similar to that twitching of every fiber of his being on that bus, similar to a panic attack. And that rage he felt towards that sarcastic asshole wouldn’t subside.

That’s what it is. This incredible rage. It just won’t stop growing. And along with it grew a thirst for something to quench the rage. Not violence, but some physical thing that could literally quench his thirst. Thomas realized that he was in desperate need of water.

He slowed his running to a walk. Only a few more blocks.

An elderly man on a stroll turned the corner and saw Thomas and the mess he was. The old man stopped immediately in his tracks, and raised his hands.

“I… I don’t want any trouble sir”

He slowly began to shuffle his way back around the corner, with an expression like he knew he was going to die.

Suddenly something clicked in Thomas’ brain. Some subconscious connection was made and he finally knew what he had to do.

Leaping forward he pounced on his prey, and with his bare fist ended the old man’s life. Without realizing what he was doing, without stopping to look around, Thomas began to feed. That thirst was being quenched. That rage subsiding. And as he started to feel calmer, he grew conscious of what he was doing. By the time he had gotten his fill he found himself sobbing, leaking warm tears over a mutilated corpse that he created.

He began to run again. This time not towards his house.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck a rubber fucking duck”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This insatiable thirst followed him wherever he went, and with it, that strange new voice. It seemed to be a part of himself, almost like an unabridged version of his own thoughts that had manifested itself in his conscience. Looking for solidarity, he found himself wandering the woods in the northern reaches of Vermont, slowly making his way towards Canada. The less people, the better. He had become a monster, and while different, and somehow exciting compared to his old life, this is not something that he ever wanted to be.

Although he stayed away from people, there were times when he would come across them, not realizing until after the fact that he had mutilated them in the same way he did that man in the alley. The same way that sarcastic asshole did to that man in the hospital. He truly was a monster, and now more than ever wanted his existence to end. In his “normal” life, he had wanted it to end for some unknown reason, perhaps dissatisfaction, perhaps simply depression. But now all he wanted was to quit being the monster he was. Avoiding humans as much as possible seemed the best option at first, but proved to be less and less realistic as there are people everywhere nowadays.

He had completely given up hope that night in the cabin. Where he killed an innocent couple of hikers. They were young and full of life, and he had taken it away from them in a fit of rage and hunger. That same rage that dictated his life.

No longer would Thomas take another’s life.

Watching the bloody man at the hospital, the man who made him what he was, Thomas knew what he had to do to end this nightmare.

So that same night in that dimly lit cabin, he reached deep inside himself and squeezed with as much force as he could muster, until he couldn’t any more. Everything went black, and for a fleeting moment he felt only regret. And then…

Nothing.