God of Pain

Twelve seconds. That’s how long I made it yesterday. Nine seconds the day before. Eight the day before that. Progress, I keep telling myself. Something to hold on to. A number. A goal. A motivation. To live. To kill. A motivation is a heart that beats. A single drop of blood that can be pushed all the way to one little, middle finger, to deliver that final ‘fuck you’ to the eyes of anyone who was sick and twisted enough to still look anymore. To watch. I could feel their eyes on me. The sick bastards. Or bitch? Guess I might like that. No. Remember. One more ‘fuck you’. That would be good enough. For now.

The painting. The smiling face of the cat. A queen. She smiles brightly with jagged, sharp teeth protruding at what feels like odd angles, though they’re perfectly straight. Not a cat’s teeth. A dragon’s. Fire. It trickles from the cat’s lips like blood. Like a hot, violent blood. Not hot, though. Not to the touch, at least. Not that I could touch it. Yet somehow, I feel it. It erupts upward, curling the sinister whiskers just beneath the snake eyes. Around her neck, a heart-shaped locket, with a photo of God inside. How do I know it’s God inside? I don’t. Could be a photo of her lover, the king of pain, but I know it’s God. My God, now. The… king of pain, actually. Huh…

The ruffles on the dress blow in the wind, except it’s not wind. It’s pain. Pain given to her by her husband, the king. God. My God. The program is effective. Eight seconds. Just need to fucking focus. A whisper leaves her lips.

“Good boy…” she says.

I roll over in my bed, and my owner reaches down to pat me atop my head. Yes, I am a good boy. The best boy. He’s great, my owner. God. Fucking focus.

Her hand rests gently on my back, as she kisses my cheek.

“Tough day at work yesterday?” she says, sliding down into the bed beside me, draping the covers over her naked shoulders. Her smile is like a dream, even in a dream. Was she ever real? No! God damn it, focus.

“Not really,” I reply.

“So, the fish aren’t really biting much again today, huh?” the old man said, leaning over the rails of the bridge. “When I was your age, you could catch several every hour.”

I wondered for a moment if these people were modeled after the creators of this prison program. That would certainly be something the sick pricks would do. Focus. Don’t drift.

“You don’t say?” I replied. “Must’ve been a lot more fun back then. Here, try a cast yourself. I bet you’ve still got it,” I said, handing over my rod and reel.

“Are you sure? They want to talk to me?” the greasy-haired young man said, taking a puff on his cigarette. He takes the phone from my hand.

Thirteen seconds. Progress. A goal. Motivation.

“Hello?” he asked. He nodded along for a second, before his eyes went wide. “You’re fucking kidding me. Again?”

He reached over and grabbed me by the collar.

Bullets whizzed above me, as the grizzled sergeant pulled me to my feet. “On your feet, soldier!”

“Sarge! I’m hit. I’m hurt bad,” I said, grasping at my bloody stump. I’d stepped on something, and that’s all I could remember. My ears were ringing.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle. There’s a strong odor of alcohol on your breath. Driving by, my scanner put you well over the legal limit.”

“Alright, just give me a second,” I said, grabbing my seatbelt. Stuck. Again. Again? No. New territory. Focus. Fucking focus.

I pulled hard, but it wouldn’t come loose.

“Shit! My cord’s stuck!”

My diving instructor drifted toward me, waving her hands to reassure me that it would be alright. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Fuck!

Everything went black. Again. Nineteen seconds.

The queen’s smile hovered above me, like a sulking thunderstorm. No one likes a thunderstorm. God does. The God of pain. The burning blood sizzled across her dragon teeth, and the heart-shaped locket trembled with lustful anticipation.

Someday.

Someday soon.