Disseverment: A Horror Story by Z.C. Krol

Author:Z.C. Krol [Krol, Z.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

S E C T I O N F I V E

The first thought that entered my mind when I came to was that my mouth was dry and I needed water. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet, but the air smelled old and stuffy, and I could taste dust in my throat. I had apparently slept with my mouth wide open. I couldn’t feel much; whatever he had mixed into the whiskey had not worn off yet. Or maybe he had given me something else.

He. Kenneth. If that was his name. Soon the memory of everything that happened had finally come into focus like my brain adjusting a lens, and I could feel more of my body, the rotted wings flapping in the cage of my center. I coughed and it hurt my chest like pneumonia. It was mostly my chest that felt anything.

I opened my eyes and thankfully there was not much light. Not much adjustment needed. A single bulb was screwed in a wooden crossbeam with a string hanging down. I was in a basement, dank and unfinished. I couldn’t tell if there were other sources of light down here that hadn’t been turned on yet.

I heard a door open behind me, near the ceiling, and the sound of footsteps down creaking wooden stairs. His steps were normal, matter-of-fact and calm, like he was coming down to change laundry, not to see the stepson he was holding captive.

“Tyler?” he said softly behind my shoulder. “You awake?”

I craned my neck in response and he breathed a sigh of relief. He walked around me, hovering over me, looking down at my face.

“Tyler,” he said proudly. “You’re doing so well. Here, I brought you some mineral water.” He had a plastic bottle in his hand with the top already twisted off, and he began moving it towards my lips.

“No,” I managed from my gravel throat. “I’m not drinking another thing you give me.”

He smiled. “I don’t blame you. But you can trust me this time. Promise. You need electrolytes and vitamins and all that good stuff. You’ve come a long way.”

A long way. From where? When? As I was becoming more conscious of the reality around me, and I was beginning to feel more and more awake, I opened my eyes wider and looked around Kenneth and the basement we were in. I was clearly sitting down, judging by the angle he was looking at me. The basement was typical: a rough concrete floor and unpainted brick walls. The only familiar objects I could see with the limited lighting were a twin mattress in one corner, no frame or box spring, with a single pillow and ratty blanket. And there were maybe a dozen oil drums grouped in another corner. Some were rusty and clearly old, others were newer and plastic, but they were all unmistakably 55-gallon drums, maybe three feet tall. In the center of the basement was what looked like a hospital bed with a table next to it, displaying various tools that were foreign to me.

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