Patrons-Legacy of the Gods

Δεκαοχτώ (18)

Where are you? Where are you? As I returned to the dreary place of hospitality, I rushed to the slabs of stone. He isn't here. There were blood scratches left by the corpses that were once there. They flowed down to the lonely, metal bucket left on the floor. It was still full of dirty water from cleansing the gushes and grime. The water led to...the trap door. All the dead inside.

I scurried to the iron door, finding its rusted yet reflected edges on the surface. I did and did not want to open it all at once. There would be more to deal; more to cover for.

Thud! The other side sounded in salutations. Thud! Thud. Two more. One big, the other a slight meager. I was unsure whether to open the latch, clutching the handle in my left grasp. I peered once more at the beds, separate from one another, laid against opposite walls. His was spotless. No creases. Only a flat sheet and untouched pillows. Does he ever sleep? Mine kept the same. I never slept in it before, recalling the long-lasting hours of staying awake day and night, carrying on with whatever work there was. The book still rested, but a pile more drew from underneath.

They held comprehensive titles, yet displayed other languages I somewhat recognized: German, Russian, and a bit of Japanese letters scribbled along the covers. There were others, yet I finally found one in a language I understood. In a far-fetched, golden ink, the titles read: Corpse Cover, Dead Deity, and another one with wrinkled and ancient paper, Rose thy Royal Lord. They were very connected to the god, I guess.

In a rather unexpected action, my arm pulled against the iron clutch, revealing a batch of four rotted bodies. They laid in a messy order, a few limbs and- that person's neck. Laying adjacent to my feet, a chopped and red leaking neck spilled out extra guts and discerned a bit of bone. Where's the head? I queried in quiet shivering. Two others had either a missing arm or leg, not even showing clean cuts. They brought me back to those times of seeing the bodies through electronic screens. The blasted horror movies. A couple violent videogames. All the worse to be right in front of me. And clogging my nose with a pultruding stench.

Recalling the previous day, I started to grab onto one of the dead carcasses. Instantly, it flashed into more images and visual realism, bringing me into a different person's perspective.

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I ran. Well, the vision ran, but I ran. I ran from something, hearing the panting of a human. She was inside a building, running up the stairs.

"Get back here, you little-"

The rumbling yet booming voice came from behind as she ran. The walls were continuously moving, window by window through a hall. They halted, pushing in a great amount of pain into my neck, falling into nothingness. Blacked out.

"Wretched bitch. Used bloody scams to cheat us," a possibly older man replied in the distance.

Another close by added, "Can't believe you slept with her, either."

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I opened back into reality. I tiredly dragged the current number of lifeless bodies to the slabs, leaving a subtle red path. First, he fixed them. Then cleaned them. Later on, he did whatever the hell it was to get their souls out and took their corpses to either bury or cremate them. That sounded simpler enough. A simple step-by-step plan.

In reality, you are never supposed to think that way.

They didn't have anything stuck or severe. Only until I saw a- what in the actual-

A fine, metal pipe was wedged into the neck of this specific female body. It severed near her trachea, her mouth remained open, and her eyes extraordinarily dilated with her pupils and iris. I caught my own arm hovering over my throat, remembering the close puncture. This was real. She died that way. You're responsible for her now.

I slowly curled my fingers against the long bar, the other side gripped tight between her neck and the pole. I shook, knowing if she stayed alive, an infinite amount of risk could have been included. Now unalive, it did not make it any better.

I took a lengthy, deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, and exhaled, staring at the stagnant rod. I slowly attempted to remove it, inch by inch. The rod pulled out pools of crimson blood along the edges. It was almost out, racing to endure the invisible pain the person inside might feel. If she could feel any pain.

Pop! The rod came into possession. Now, a chasmic hole wedged through, a tunnel of flesh and bone into a cylinder. Holding the metal pole, I didn't know they would do such a thing. I felt my mouth gaping, so I closed it, dropping the rod to the ground moments after. The other two pair of corpses still rested, yet they didn't have any additional objects stuck on them. Second, the next step.

The water was dirty, which seemed in need of replacement. Leaving only the woman on the setting area, I went near the bucket, the water rippling particles of blood, dirt, and possibly feces. I was disgusted by that very thought. I hoisted it, yet I heard a pair of footsteps nearby.

I turned around, seeing the exact hood for the past day-or two, maybe three-of standing around the guy. He had the second bucket, shortly swinging from a batch of water. How long did I stay in here?

He didn't speak or utter anything. Neither have I. He stood for a few seconds, turning and twisting his head around for the current happenings, and glared at the woman with a hole in her throat.

Haemon changed his focus to me now. He knows. How quick a learner I was. He carried on with the water, taking a small towel by the rims of the bucket and cleaning around the neck.

Thud. More were coming in. He saw the door budge, too. How much more labor to be done? My eyes drooped, blinking heavily. I need stamina. I can't do more. I'm tired. I need...sleep. I glanced at the bed, feeling the temptation. There was too much work. No one else is awake for more than days. We're doing all the dirty jobs.

The room blurred. It swirled into a dark, unhinged painting, outlines of glinting white and red, including a touch of gold and silver. I couldn't see. I felt numb, my arms and legs giving up on operating.

I only heard a few familiar steps against the frigid floor, freezing as I sat and heard him approaching.

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I woke up. I was laying straight in the grayish bed, finding my face uncovered to the air. I rapidly jerked up, seeing him already dealing with a third cadaver on cutting around it. How is he alive at this point? I never saw him rest. I felt around for the cloak, but I noticed his hood raised above the head, his back towards me.

"Don't get up," he spoke darkly.

I repeated those words in my head. Don't get up. Exposed, I felt as if I forgot to speak. I started seeing things.

One of the corpses, the headless man, twitched a little finger. Then again. And again. It built to the arm, then a leg. Twitching, twitching without any other force, the body bent itself up to its bare feet. Standing, emitting, transmitting terror.