Page 21 of Neon Pestilence
Making a quick stop for a couple of slices of pizza and a refill of my Camelback, I continue walking right back into the Doctor’s lair.
I don’t know why I’m going back, honestly. Call it curiosity, call it stupidity. Call it whatever you want. All I know is I need to see The Doctor again. I know it’s not logical, but fuck, I need to be with him again.
And, maybe this time, I can leave with some answers.
Chapter 20
The Doctor
Sighing to myself, I look at the bodies laid out in front of me. This year has had more patients than any past festivals. Broken, bloody bodies are sprawled out below me, their dark crimson liquids seeping into the dirt.
After dropping my little raver off at her campsite, I realized I would need to take care of her ‘neighbors’. Working quickly, I dragged each of their bodies from their tents, two men and two women. All infected with the pestilence.
They tried to run, tried to put up a fight. But I wasn’t allowing any games tonight. I moved quickly, slicing into them with ease. Their bodies sprayed me with that delicious red liquid.
Once I was satisfied, and their bones were perfectly malleable, I brought them back into the forest, lined them up next to the others, and began to dig.
With each thrust of the shovel, images flash through my mind.Tommy is rushing toward us, knife glinting in the moonlit forest. Eyes feral, wild like he’s been infected by the pestilence.
The wet dirt cracks beneath me, the tool sliding in with precision, like the way I cut through my patients. Another memory.I spoke. She heard, as my body crashed into Tommy. My need to protect her outweighs the safety of my silence.
My palms begin to sweat, and my breathing becomes labored. It didn’t hit until now. My promise. My loyalty. All broken.
Echoes of my past shatter around me.
You’ll never be good enough.
Your silence proves your loyalty. Keep your mouth shut, or I'll throw you in the graves with the others.
You think you're a doctor? Ha. You're nothing but another infection, feeding off of everything around you like the leech you are.
My blood boils as the voice swirls in my skull. I grip the shovel harder, the cool wood splintering slightly under the pressure.
I hate them. I hate this.
You miss me? My touch? The feeling of me crawling up your skin. Fucking dirty.
The voice continues throwing insults, each one hitting me like a hot knife. I can feel them here, running their hands across my shoulders, pushing me down to my knees, all for the name of ‘research’.
I knew it was all a lie, but I had no family, no one else to turn to. So I continued to allow it. For years, they molded me intotheir perfect assistant. They taught me everything I knew, and took advantage of me every second they could. I was never paid. Never thanked. Never respected.
When they died, I believed I was finally free. That the chains they had on me were finally gone. But I was so fucking wrong.
I had never realized they had been poisoning me. That little pink liquid. Their essence. A piece of them inside of me.
Unknowingly and willingly, I drank it every night, like the way you take your medicine before bed. Each dose solidified their home in my head.
It only took hours after their death for them to weasel their way back into me. Their sultry, smooth voice filled with rage, poisoning my thoughts until I was just another version of them.
I’ve been hiding behind this mask ever since, too scared to allow the world to see the broken man underneath.
I fall to my knees as rain pours around me, and the sound of water hitting the leaves echoes hauntingly through the forest. Dropping the shovel, I bury my face in my dirt-coated palms; the rough feeling of them is almost too overstimulating.
I let out a silent sob, pointing my mask toward the sky as the tears flow as freely as water. The distant thumps of bass flow with the voice in my head.
Worthless. Thump.
Useless. Thump, thump.
