Administering the Mark

TW: GORE & SEXUAL VIOLENCE

Hellkite:

I start with a cut in the shape of an upside-down T just above his ankle.

“Admit that you teach lies. Admit that there is no God, let us administer the chip, and you will be spared,” I tell the old priest.

“I will not deny my father in heaven.”

They are always brave before the pain. With a thin, flexible knife, as sharp as a razer, I peel one of the corners inside the T up and grab it with my pliers.

“One more chance father.”

He looks me straight in the eyes. He’s preparing himself physically and mentally for what is about to happen to him, but he has never experienced anything like this. I pull up on the skin enough to get my blade under it and already he is screaming. I cut and saw at his skin, pulling it away from the muscle and tissue it’s bound to with my pliers. He screams in agony, tears streaming down his face. He struggles against his restraints as I work up his leg then back around, leaving the skin of his calf dangling from his knee like torn pant leg. He’s red in the face and crying, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Sometimes, most times, they pass out. This one did not. Just as he begins to think the worst is over, I dump alcohol on the wound. He thrashes viciously and pleads loudly for me to stop.”

“Do you teach lies,” I ask him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look me in the face. He hesitates. “You have a lot more skin to remove! I ask you again, are you a teacher of lies,” I yell.

He’s terrified and flinches at my raised voice. Cowering his face away from me he says, “Yes, yes, I teach lies.”

“Are you going to stop?”

His face shrivels as more tears stream forth, and nods yes.

“Will you let me chip you so you can return to society?”

He nods, but I need to hear him say it, so I slap him across the face a few times. “Quit nodding like a fool and speak!”

“Yes, please, chip me and let me go.”

I grab a syringe and inject a chip into his hand. We’ll be keeping a close eye on him from now on. I remove my gloves and signal to the two-way mirror. A doctor comes in to treat the old man’s wound before sending him back home. I step behind the mirror and ask who’s next.

Sadie:

I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. It’s pitch back. I’m guessing close to a week. There’s hardly any room in here to stretch out, not enough room to stand. My muscles ache and my bones are sore. It’s cold, wet, and I’m sitting in my own excrement. They haven’t fed me. I eat bugs and lick condensation off the concrete walls. My throat was already sore from screaming for them to let me out, but now I feel fluid in my lungs and cough frequently, making it worse. I must have a fever because chills are setting in. Four to five times a day they shove spears through holes drilled into the walls at different levels, cutting me. I try to shift my body around to escape the blades, but they eventually get me. The older cuts are beginning to fester. All I can hear outside my prison is muffled screams and cries. I pray for Father Dempsy, my parents, and the rest of the congregation.

Hellkite:

I open the door to the girl’s cell, and she squints against the light, shielding her face. She’s filthy and smells, covered in her own defecations and blood. I grab her by the ankle and pull her out. She’s pale and fragile looking. I try to help her to her feet, but she cannot support her own weight. I carry her to the dentist’s chair I use for my work and strap her to it.

“You’re a young one and I want you to listen to reason. You can still lead a long and happy life if you give up on the lies you have been taught,” I tell her plainly.

“They are not lies. I was taught men like you would come and try to make me renounce God.”

“The man who taught you renounced your make-believe god and left here a citizen of the new world order. That’s how much faith he had in what he taught.”

I motion to the two-way mirror and two men roll out a food cart, parking it where she can see it and smell the food. Uncovering the dish I say, “Porterhouse steak, garlic mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and all the ice-cold Gatorade you can drink.”

I can see her salivating. The look in her eye tells me she’s considering it. Her body is desperate, and her survival instincts are taking over. “I’m not asking you to renounce your god the way your priest so willingly did. I just want to give you one little shot so you can go back to being a part of society. Then you can eat, you can drink, I’ll have a doctor treat your wounds and start you on antibiotics, and we’ll take you home.”

“Letting you inject me with that chip would be the same as renouncing God,” she says, her eyes fixated on the food.

“Come on, what are you, seventeen, maybe eighteen? All you know of the world is what people have told you. You have suffered enough. It’s time for you to rejoin society and get on with your life.”

“What about my parents?”

“I don’t know who you are much less your parents. If they were smart, they are at home waiting for you.”

She closes her eyes and says, “No, if you killed anyone, I’m sure they would have been amongst those you killed. I will not eat your food, nor will I accept your chip.”

With a knife I slice her from heal to toe. She thrashes against her restraints. I slice her other foot and ask, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She doesn’t answer, so I have the food removed. “You can stop this at any time, but citizenship is not optional. You must receive a chip.”

Her face got all squishy and turned different shades of red. If I had heartstrings, she might have tugged on them. She wasn’t like the others who put up brave fronts before the pain as if they could withstand what was coming. She was accepting the brutality of her fate and not looking forward to it. I, however, was looking forward to this next part immensely.

I undo her restraints, and she tumbles to the floor, dragging herself away from me in hurried fashion. She is easy to catch. I greet her with a kick to the ribs that rolls her over. I get down on top of her and rip her clothes from her body. She fights, but she is so weak it is like overpowering a kitten. I force myself inside her. She is tight and bleeds, a virgin. She screams and slaps and cries, pleads with me to stop, but I’m enjoying myself way too much to stop. I’m not gentle with her, thrusting deep and hard. I’m done, so I get off of her and she scurries to the nearest corner and hides her face to cry.

“Stupid girl. That could have been something you could have saved for a man you loved. One little shot and you could have had your belly filled, received medical care, and then returned home to eventually fall in love and share yourself for the first time with your future husband. Now that’s gone. How much more of yourself are you willing to give up over a myth?”

I stand there cleaning myself off with a rag, waiting for some sort of response. She just sits there in a pile and sobs. I walk over and grab her by the hair. I drag her back to the chair and strap her in.

“What do you say, kid? Ready to call it quits?”

She spits in my face, which means whatever has been making her croup her head off is now going to infect me. This pisses me off. I climb on top of her and give her a face full of fist several times over. Her pretty little face swells up fast and blood sprays from her nose. She’s barely conscious when I get off of her and grab my knife. I start slicing across her chest and belly, arms and legs. One of her infected sores catches my eye and I dig my thumb in as viciously as I can. “Take the shot!”

“No,” she screams, summoning all her strength to do so.

I strap her head down and lower the chair so that she is laying down. I wave to the mirror and in comes buckets of water and a towel. “Are you going to take the shot?”

“No,” she says, this time a little more remorseful.

I lay the towel across her face and begin to dump water on her. I watch as she struggles against the restraints. I stop for a moment and start again, pouring a little longer this time. I pull off the towel and ask her if she is ready for me to stop. She doesn’t answer so I drop the towel back down on her face and pour more water on her. I stop pouring and leave the towel across her face. I pick up a torch and heat my knife with it until the metal is glowing. I pull off the towel and sear her right eye shut as she wails out in excruciating pain. I sit the chair back up and ask her again, “Are you ready for me to stop.”

“Yes,” she whimpers, barely conscious.

“So, you’re willing to let me inject you with the chip?”

Tears run down her face, and she mouths the word, no. I look at the mirror and tell them to sleep deprive her and I’ll start fresh in the morning.

Sadie:

The bible didn’t go into detail just how far the Antichrist would go to break God’s people and administer his mark. I knew it would be bad, but I was not prepared for this. I was pretty sheltered. I was homeschooled and my parents never let me watch an R rated movie. To be honest I didn’t know violence like this existed in the world.

I need sleep. I want to sleep so badly. They have the lights in here cranked up to sun and every time I drift off alarms, buzzers, and horns begin to blare at unfathomable decibels. I have so many cuts on my body the slightest move hurts. And my eye; I’ll never see through it again if I live to see the end.

At some point they have to kill me, but at the same time, I suppose, they’re figuring at some point I’ll crack. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I came close to giving in at the sight of the food and the thought of something to drink. Speaking of which, I’m so thirsty. I did drink some of the water during my waterboarding, as much as I could get through a towel, but that wasn’t enough. Thirst might be the death of me. I know in my heart that God is real and true. I just have to hold on.

Hellkite:

I ask her if she’s ready for me to quit. She doesn’t have the strength to answer. She can barely hold her head up. I grab a syringe and go to inject her. A little fight comes back as she tries to wiggle her hand away. I lay down the syringe and pick up a hammer. With it, I smash her teeth. That woke her up. Her eyes tear, and every restrained muscle in her body seizes from the sensation. She spits blood and teeth everywhere. Crying out for God to help her.

“Can you talk now? Are you ready to give in? Listen, this is real! The next thing I do is peel back the skin from your left wrist to your left elbow. Then I’m going to hook you up to an IV and let you get you regain some strength so we can keep doing this. I’m not going to let you die. This will be your life. Nobody is coming to save you, not here. How much more can you take?”

She broke down and cried a different cry. It was the cry of someone losing their religion.