Frostbite

Twelve

"You're going to kill him."

That made her heart skip a beat, almost stop altogether; his voice sounded so far away, so calm, yet so demanding, lined with perverse arousal that did nothing to ease her inability to breath, and she knew instantly that she couldn't deny him.

She stood there, holding the utensil, her chest rising and falling in a shallow, labored, rhythm; she took a moment to convince herself this was what needed to be done, he was already gone, not human, he would never live normally again, he'd be treated like the monster he is. Killing him would be a favor. The hesitation she harbored faded upon the epiphany. She approached the table with small steps, giving her time to further gear herself up. As she moved around to the other side of his body, she noticed how still it was, how stiff, as if he were already dead, and, although the image was unsettling, it made it easier to position the small blade right at the base of his throat, and with one slow, clean movement, she allowed the tip to penetrate the skin as the knife trailed down along the creature's torso.

Although it was grotesque, like a slab of rotten meat being sliced apart, her hand was surprisingly steady, the sharpness of the blade making the cut clean. Blood seeped from the gash, cascading down the sides of the cadaver and spilling onto the metallic table. It was hard for her to comprehend that she had just taken a life, but the flow of the crimson liquid was, in a way, soothing, like a Zen waterfall, and she found herself getting pulled into a tranquil state of mind, the room around her warm and her senses going fuzzy. It was a high she had never felt before, but it quickly became nauseating and she took a step back, just as the blood began to transition from the crisp red color you would expect, into a dark, almost black, goo, overflowing onto the floor in thick streams. Confused as to whether it was a hallucination or not, her focus was broken, and she suddenly felt Hal's eyes on her, having forgotten he was being held in the room. Her bright eyes found him, and she took in the broken sight of him, instantly feeling a wave of shame, mortified that he had witnessed what she had just done. Shaking her head, she dropped the scalpel, the look of shock on his face instantly tormenting her. She knew if ever they both made it out of here, she'd never live this down. But the morbid truth was, she had enjoyed it, and she didn't know if it was the hold Mantelbourne had over her, or if she was really that deranged. She hoped she'd never have to do it again. She'd refuse, not wanting to lose herself any more than she already had.

With her drugged delirium fading, and the light, yet somehow heavy sounding, clang of the scalpel, Joel moved forward, his demeanor stern; but only briefly, before he praised her, "Yes... Good. Very good, my dear. You've made me proud."

Anissa's face went pale, all sensation flooding down to her chest where it ached with disgust. As if she wanted to make this madman proud. The room span around her and she felt lightheaded as she continued to stare blankly at Hal, his hands gripping the bars of his cage in a plea for her. Just her. For her to return to the woman he met in her initial room. Pleading for himself, as he felt so helpless.

Joel took in Anissa's ghostly expression before turning with a smirk to look back at the cage. He replaced his gaze upon the woman in shock and spoke with a gaiety that sickened her more, "Would you like to kill him next? It can be done, of course." He turned his head to the side, his eyes still on her; a taunting grin overcoming his features, "Perhaps an insect this time?" When the blue-eyed woman didn't respond, although her chest rose and fell more prominently at the notion, or threat, he straightened up with a heavy sigh, becoming serious once again, and almost angry. Sucking in his bottom lip and releasing it with a soft clicking sound, he wanted to scold her, but he'd already exalted her; he was simply being sour. With a deep inhale, he blew out his words, "Meet me in my room in ten minutes." And with that he turned to leave.

Two guards who had been stationed in the room immediately took Anissa by the elbows to escort her out and back to her room. As she passed by Hal he leaned closer into the bars, wishing he could reach out to her through the thin spaces between them, "You're not this," he whispered hoarsely. All Anissa could do was give him a pained look; she wanted to nod, to acknowledge him more now that the Dominion was out of her system, but the moment was fleeting.

Her room was close by, and when she entered she instantly saw what was laid out on the bed; black lingerie, items that insinuated an inappropriate encounter that made her knees feel like they were going to give out and her stomach feel ill. Of all the gall Joel had, of everything he'd done to her, said to her; she couldn't take much more. Beside it, as before, laid a dress, only this time it was bright blue, the same as the color of her new eyes, as if she were promoted; a new dress in appreciation of her good behavior. She put the items on leisurely, as she had time to kill. She dreaded going to see Mantelbourne, having a feeling she knew what was going to happen. It was surprising to her that Leland wasn't there to give her a shot and in that realization she vaguely thought about trying to make a run for it, if she could only remember the elevator code. It wasn't like she could get out the door in the first place with guards keeping watch. And she wouldn't leave Hal behind, of course. It was simply a daydream to keep her company as she waited.

Once she was dressed she looked into the full length mirror beside the bed, seeing so much blue that it made her feel disoriented, her eyes piercing into her. Her expression changed into one of confidence she didn't know she had, a chill running through her that sparked a rousing in her that filled her with confusion. She didn't recognize herself at all, the heated look making it seem to her that it was her reflection taunting her, and as if it were moving on its own as she found her hands going to her hips, dragging up the sides of her own body slowly until she reached her breasts, caressing them. She allowed her head to fall back, her eyes fluttering dreamily as a soft, alarming moan released from her lips. She thought briefly of Hal touching her, and Leland in turn, even Joel, as her hands drifted back down. It must have been the eyes, the liquid within them charging her, fueling her newfound drive for desire.

As her right hand reached her thigh she bunched up the fabric in a moment of self-induced passion, her head falling forward again, her eyes blazing back into her reflection. And that's when she saw it, the blue mist crawling along the bottom of the mirror. She watched, suddenly paralyzed, as it lifted, swirling around her body. She felt a tightness coiling around her body, a fear rising along with the smoke like substance. She tried to move but couldn't, akin to a sleep paralysis, and she willed herself to wake up. Before she knew it, it was wrapping around her neck, squeezing tight, cutting off her breathing. Her hand clutched the bunch of fabric tighter, movement coming back to her. She stepped backward, her hands flying up to waft at the smog as she gasped for air, but all the vapor did was flow into her mouth and nostrils, causing her to almost immediately feel tired, akin to a knockout gas. Her eyes began to feel heavy as her struggling eased and the backs of her knees hit the bed. She passed out.