Day 2: Mindless

Art by Rhett Backstrom | Twitter | Instagram

The monster has been chained. He’s been put away and abandoned. They hope he dies there. Different than them. Away from them. They were only doing what they were told.

The cave he’s in has only darkness. Nothingness. Something suitable for someone with nothing to offer their world – according to them.

What they don’t see is his stirring. The clanking of the metal chains causes him to grimace and then become fully aware. His eyes widen, try to adjust, and fail to. All he can do is smell and listen. Sight won’t help him right now. He smells the moisture of wherever he is. There’s a faint smell of blood to. His own. It’s pouring out of his head and down his body. He doesn’t know how he’s still alive.

He has no choice but to remember the feeling of his neighbors dragging him out of his home. Calling him a monster. Beating him. Spitting on him. Blaming him for something he has no choice in. He grimaces at the memory. There’s hatred brewing inside of him that can only be created from another. At one point he was naive, but now he’s changed.

He will get out. He’ll die trying.

They started something, but didn’t finish it completely. He’s still here. Still fighting. Still living.

He’s a ‘monster’ and stronger than them. They must have not considered this when he was knocked out cold. He’s certain the sight of him was enough for them to want to leave as quickly as possible.

The anger is building. The adrenaline is kicking in. He can hear his own heartbeat as he struggles against the chains. His muscles bulge against the restraints as his determination grows. He will get out. He will.

There’s a cracking noise. It’s faint at first but his determination to escape makes it grow louder and louder until half of his body is suddenly free. A grin appears on his face and he pulls himself free the rest of the way. How dare they think this plan was going to work.

He’s a monster after all. He’s going to show them.

Something takes him over and he seems to be finding his way out of the dark cave without any trouble. His eyes adjust more and he’s running now. The light is approaching faster and faster.

He’s out. A bloody hand shields his eyes from the setting sun. It’s going to be dark outside soon. Good.

Most will be asleep. He’s planning on giving them a rude awakening as they did to him. The first door is kicked in. Easy. A scythe sits on the front porch. Everyone trusts each other here. Just not him. Never, ever him. He grabs the scythe. It’s fair game now. He plans to use it. There’s a mirror on the wall opposite of the front door. His own appearance causes him to stop in his tracks and then clumsily step forward until he’s on his knees in front of the mirror. The hand not holding the scythe reaches up slowly, fingers twitching. He touches the top of his head.

No, not his head. Where it used to be. The top of his skull is not there. The cavity for his brain is empty. He is… Mindless?

It’s just the way they wanted him to be. His vision blurs. His heart is racing, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t even know how he still exists. No brain. Mindless.

He has a sobering thought and gets tunnel vision. An eye for an eye. They want to treat him like a monster, but don’t want to pay for it?

No.

He smiles again. His hand tightens around the scythe and he stands up, suddenly realizing what he has to do. Mindless. Brainless. Mindless.

They don’t get away with this. Everyone was against him so everyone will pay.

The first victims make the mistake of checking on all the noise in their house and he gets them on the stairs. Their brains spill on the floor. They too are mindless.

The violence lasts until morning and everyone pays.

Now they are mindless. Limbless. Done.

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