The Unwelcome

Author : Desmond Hussey, Staff Writer

wake screaming. where am i? body hurts… everywhere… spiders beneath my skin, crawling, biting. feel queazy. stomach’s spinning. so dim. can barely see. my arms. can’t move my arms. “What the f -…?” stay calm. focus… breath… in… out… in… out… in – what was that? shadows. something’s coming! blurry shapes. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” an awful chittering sound. “Are you talking? Listen to me! Hey! Listen to – nonono don’t… aaaaaaahhh!”

wake again. scream in agony, rage, terror. alone. cold… so cold… still can’t move. side hurts… can’t see it. am i bleeding? blurred shapes come in-out of focus. walls of flesh. breathing, in… out… crimson light pulses through translucent veins… down curving corridors. a honeycomb of tunnels. movement. too fast. someone’s voice. “Kara? Is that you?” flash of steel. shes’screaming! “Kara, what’s happening? Stop hurting her. Stop it!” screaming stops. silence. too quiet. “Kara? Say something. Kara… Please. Say something… please… please…” my eyes burn with fury. “What did you do to her you sonofabitch? What did you do to my wife? I swear I’m gonna – aaaaaaaahh.!”

no strength. mouth like glue. eyes. too heavy. how long has it been? no pain. feel nothing. no cold. nothing. what’s that sound? who’s crying? “Emily? Emily, sweetheart? Is that you? Come to daddy. Emily? Who’s with you? Who’s hurting you?” shadows. too many arms. cold light. too bright. “Get away from her! Leave her alone!” muscles ripping, trying to reach. hands trapped in wall of flesh. a face looms. too many eyes. what’s that smell? tuna? “I’m gonna kill you! No! Don’t hurt her too! Look away, sweetheart.” no! not her eyes. “Look away, Emily. Don’t let them touch you…” her beautiful eyes. i love you… so sorry… couldn’t protect you. i –

don’t move a muscle when the shadow returns. eyes closed. wait. feel movement – left arm. free. right arm. free. stay limp. play possum. falling slowly. drifting. floating. wait. hook slices through left shoulder. don’t flinch. too numb to feel pain. wait. being pulled, floating horizontal… down a corridor? or up a shaft? pulsing lights. breathing walls. weightless. a drop of blood floats past. emily’s? kara’s? mine? ceiling/floor/walls? flash by quickly. a maze of tunnels. dizzy. feeling nauseous. spinning. stomach heaves but nothing comes out. stop moving. wicked chattering. the face!

now! swing hard. fist connects with sponge flesh. bird-like bones crack. the action pushes/throws me. feel a surface and push off with all my rage. a missile of revenge the color of fury… when it’s over i float within a swirling mist of quicksilver blood.

head clearing. see a glowing hole… beyond it our room! our bed! i’m dreaming. thank god. “Kara? Emily?” reach, crawl, hand over fist, pulling my rebellious body over sinuous walls toward that warm, familiar light. so close. i’m coming… can almost feel you…

“ – you’ll awaken at the sound of the bell in three… two… one…” A bell rings. “You’re safe and sound at the institute, Mr. Stewart.” Dr. Penrose smiles wearily at the distraught patient and turns to Police Inspector Cross, “Still nothing, I’m afraid. If you were hoping for a confession, or to know where the bodies are hidden, we won’t find out through hypnosis. He’s completely blocked all memory of murdering his family and has substituted this outrageous fantasy.”
“I see. Most unfortunate. One more question, doctor. In your professional opinion, is it possible to remove one’s own kidney?”
“Possible, I suppose,” Dr. Penrose muses gravely, “but highly unlikely. Why?”
“His is missing.”