The last thing I could remember was getting hit by something heavy as I was getting out of the parking. My hand tried to reach the injured part at the back of my head, which was still paining sharply, but the ropes that tied my hands at the back of the chair restrained it.
I decided to open my eyes.
I mentally laughed on opening my eyes. The room was so dark that I couldn’t see anything. My hands pained as I tried to get them free and failed miserably.
I heard a female groan from outside. I lay limp. The door creaked, allowing a little light to come through. The lights were switched on. I dared not open my eyes. He (yes my abductor was definitely a male) seated the woman on a chair near me and tied her hands just like mine (I guessed all this with the sounds he was making, the woman did not make any noise). I heard a doorbell ring. He left in haste , locking the door from outside.
I opened my eyes again. I would have shouted in horror if I was not dumbfounded with fear. There were many chairs around me. Some were empty; some (to my horror) were not. I turned towards the only living human besides me in the room.
The woman that he had just brought in was fainted in the chair. Her whole face but her unnaturally big round eyes were covered in blood. Blood was dripping from her face to the floor. A gruesome realization hit me- her face was not covered in blood, her face was blood. She had no skin on her face.
I would have vomited if I had had anything in my stomach, but I tried to keep the bile inside my system. I knew she would die soon and wondered what can make a person do such type of monstrosity. Her left eyeball shifted in my direction. I suppose the right was not working.
“Kill me!” she whispered.
I wish I could have, but I was as helpless as she was.
“Who is this monster?” were the words that escaped my mouth.
“Dokr ….Dorran…Class…tick…urge,” and she died.
Her face looked no different in death than it had looked in life. Her hazel eyeballs kept staring at me as there were no eyelids. Her perfect teeth were covered in blood. Her whole body but her face was unscathed.
I turned my face in another direction. My eyes stood on another corpse sitting on (tied to) a chair. Her face hung on the other side, out of my eye sight, but I could see that her nose was cut off, not completely but parts of it. Her blonde hair was tied up in a high bun which had gotten quiet messy. She was Amber.
.…...........
The puzzle was complete. Every little piece had fallen into its place, Amber being the last. What the recently dead woman wanted to tell me, why the room did not smell in spite of all the rotten bodies, why I was abducted and who was this psycho; I now held the answer to all these questions.
A tear had made its way down my cheek. Anger flared my nostrils. He was supposed to help us, not kill us. Had he not taken the Hippocratic oath? How did nobody ever saw the madness in those dark black eyes of him, hidden behind the square frame of his spectacles? Why did we fail to hear the traces of lies hidden under his honey dipped voice, not knowing that his thin pink lips were weaving a web of lies to trap us? Was the urgent brisk pace with which his legs carried his tall lean figure, not an indicator of his urgency to kill? How long have this monster been hidden under a surgical mask and the name of Doctor Dorian?
Amber was the one who had referred me to Dr. Dorian. He had performed rhinoplasty on her. I had never wanted to go under the knife in the first place. And now I wished that I hadn't. I will go under the knife again, only this time it would be more painful, without anesthesia and will probably result in my death. Same hands would operate the knife on the same body.
The question left now was the why. What had broken inside him so as to result in such gruesome acts of violence? I had another more pressing question on my mind- how. How to get out?
My hands were still tied up, no matter how hard I had tried to free them. The chair that I was sitting on was glued to the floor. My legs were free and I tried desperately to get out of the chair with my hands still tied to each other. The back of the chair was very high for me to get out. There was no way to escape from the room.
My only chance would be when he unties me. I'll try to talk to him, or run away from his grasp. My eyes wander aimlessly around. The lifeless bodies seem to mock me saying that they had tried it all and failed.
The door opened, revealing a blonde head. I looked at him and still could not believe that those almond shaped eyes and that friendly smile were hiding a monster beneath them.
“Oh, you are awake!” he said with delight.
“Doctor Dorian,” I whispered, having no energy to speak any loudly.
“You'll be all right,” he said in what he meant to be an assuring tone that he had used just before the operation. But this time it sent shivers through my spine. “I'll get all the dirty bits out of your body and you'll be clean again.”
“But you were the one who added them.”
“If I hadn't, somebody else would have.” He flashed his usual smile. “And I could not have known to purify you.”
“You know you can do that without killing me.”
“Yes, I can. But then how will you pay your penance? I will send you to heaven and He will accept you, in the same form that he meant you to be,” he gestured around the room, “just like all of them.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Somebody has to.”
“But why you?”
“Because I'm the chosen one," he declared. I saw a slight hint of madness in his usually inviting eyes. “My father did the same for my mother and I have to continue his legacy.” He took a deep sigh. “I was just ten when they took him away from me, just a year after he had shown me the path.”
“How many?” I asked.
His brows twisted for a moment and then he understood. “You are the twenty-fifth. Now get ready for your purification.” He said the last line just as he had said, “Now get ready for your transformation,” before my operation.
He took out an injection from his pocket and the needle was the last thing that I remembered before waking up in immense pain.
My whole face felt like it was on fire. I had no way of knowing if that was the case or not. My brain refused to think or analyze anything. The pain was so intense that I thought I would pass out, but I didn't. Instead, I died.
