Senseless

Blood rushed through his ears. It was the quietest sound, yet crashed as if it was a roaring ocean. His hands gripped the rough cloth binding them tight enough to cause numbness, trying to get his mind off the pain of the bruises on his face. His tongue tasted only blood. He took a deep, racking breath, coughing as he did so at the scent of his filth. His eyes cried tears stained with blood, straining to see anything at all in his swirling vision.

The previous day, the man would live the worst day in his life since the Great War.

"Oh dear, what a mess I’ve made! It’s okay, it’s only your daughter’s fault.”  A voice taunted, loving the bleached look of fear on the girl’s face.

"Leave her out of this!" The man’s scratchy voice barely reached over the flames. He tossed the girl aside, lunging for the leader’s throat, tripping on the way.

"Oh, my, I guess he really doesn't care about you, does he?" He laughed, stepping to the side. The father fell weakly to the burning ground. The faction leader looked down in disgust, stepping over him. 

The girl cowered in the corner, trying to stay away from the fire. The faction leader stopped in front of her, hefting his flamethrower, grinning. The last thing the girl saw was the swirl of red breaching her vision. The last thing she remembered was how sorry she felt. The last thing she heard was the maniacal laughter coming from someone who was supposed to be family.

“I-- I said, leave her…” But the father couldn’t finish speaking, hunger taking over, causing him to collapse again. 

“Hm? Did I hear something? Oh well, no time to wonder. Now where is it?” The faction leader stepped through the flames, heading to a room in the back. He shuffled through some items, shaking his head in slight frustration. 

“Ah! Here it is.” He held up a slightly singed piece of paper, admiring the colorful work. “She could have been talented some day. Such a shame.” The leader neatly folded the paper, placing it in his chest pocket, walking out of the smoldering embers of what used to be a home. 

The man realized he didn't hear his daughter's voice screaming in agony anymore. He shook himself awake, his head spinning from starvation. Eyes widened, he was horrified at the thought of what could have happened. His gaze glanced around the smoldering remains of his home, unable to focus on any one thing for long. Eventually, he set his eyes upon a familiar shape. A sharp intake of breath caused him to start coughing uncontrollably, the ash that was beginning to form seeping into his lungs. Hand over hand, knee over knee, he slowly made his way toward what he hoped was not what he thought. 

Finally, the father landed upon a figure. His daughter's features were scorched, tear stains still visible amongst the char. Her expression was mixed, showing both fear and a hint of sadness. The father beat his fist against the ground repeatedly, his chest racking in sobs. The force of the impact caused his daughter’s corpse to fall forward onto him, and he gripped what was left of her body to him in desperation. He then gripped a fistful of her hair, and it fell out with surprise ease. The man shakily took some of the hair, pulling the locket out from under his shirt. He sat there for a moment, admiring the intricate detail. The silver gleamed a slight shade of orange and red in the smoldering flames that surrounded them. The inside was pressed in red velvet, soft to the touch. The man gingerly placed a lock of his daughter’s hair inside, replacing the black chain and its heart-shaped pendant to the familiar spot on his chest. Then he curled up on the floor, sobbing himself to sleep amongst the ruins. 

The faction leader paced back and forth, making the nurse nervous. Normally, when  somebody figures out their Death Date, they get sent to The Chamber with no qualms. So why was he pacing and acting all nervous about this guy?

When he awoke, the man was on his knees, bound, on the stage. He vaguely remembered being dragged from his home in a half-sleep state, the rope binding his hands together behind his back, being forced to his knees, the crowd forming around him in wonder. 

He squinted, trying to make out his surroundings, but then everything spinned the other direction, and he passed out again.

"Here is what you will do. Go see The Doctor, and tell him to get the serum ready. It's time to put it to use." The faction leader licked his lips in anticipation. 

"But sir, that serum is for the patients. Who even is this man?" His nurse questioned.

"You don't get paid to ask questions, do you my sweet? No? Now go." He stalked back to the window, watching the crowd gather.

In the inbetweens of consciousness, the father went between memories. Flashes of color, the feeling of fear, then dread. His daughter’s proud smile, the pounding of his heartbeat. It wasn’t her fault, was it? She couldn’t read. 

The sound of boots walking on wood brought him back to reality. He struggled to raise his head, breath shaky, straining to see through his dark, stringy hair. The next thing he knew was pain as his gaze was lifted suddenly by that hair, and he was face to face with the faction leader. His breath smelled like death, his emotionless gaze cut like knives. The faction leader’s lip turned up in disgust, and he spat in the face of his brother. Walking away, the leader raised his hands, and the surrounding crowd erupted in cheers. Then, darkness blanketed his thoughts once more. 

“My people! I know, I know. You grow impatient, and for good reason indeed!” The faction leader paced on the stage, his boots clicking on the wood. The people cried out in glee, seeking some excitement to escape the bore of stagnation the world had become. The leader glanced back at the man, and almost felt the pang of regret. Almost. 

“Alright, I know the normalcy of The Chamber has grown old. Who would think? Families being forced to feed upon one another to survive, while being watched by the general populace? That’s old news. You all want something new, huh?” Everyone screamed, knowing not what they were in for. The faction leader grinned, the sides of his smile causing pain. He then stalked over to the father, shoving his boot in his face. 

The man awoke to the feeling of pain once again. His face was pain, now. He hated being awoken. The darkness was peaceful. Once his ears stopped ringing and he heard what was spoken, his blood ran cold. Yes, he preferred the darkness.

“Let me tell you why this man is on trial today. He broke one, tiny, simple rule. Don’t. Ever. Look at your Death Date.” The crowd grew rowdy. “Does anybody remember what I said when I started this place? Don’t look at it. Because then people start to think they can change it, and then what’s the point of having them in the first place when people think they can live as long as they want? Then we have the same problem as before. Too many people living in a crowded world with no sense of control. As special punishment for this man, I won’t force him into The Chamber. Oh, no. I’ll do something worse. I’ll strip him of everything that makes him human. All of his senses, the ability to see, hear, smell, taste, even touch, will be gone. He will be senseless.” 

The man looked on in horror, watching as his brother strode back over to him. He didn’t hold his flamethrower this time, no, that was much too kind. What his hands held was something much worse, something that could do some real damage, and without cauterization. 

“I like to call this baby Ol’ Reliable. I can get one anywhere on this godforsaken planet.” He held it up, the rusty piece of metal not looking like anything special. 

“I think I’ll start by slicing off an ear, what do you think? Not that that would actually make you lose your hearing, I just think it would look funny.” The faction leader scraped the rusty filament against the man’s dirty jawline, then slowly carved it through the cartilage on the side of his head. He did that for both ears before driving it inside each hole, ruining the man’s eardrums forever. He felt the vibration of his screams inside of his skull, but his voice was nowhere to be found.

“Doesn't that sound simply beautiful?” The surrounding people cheered, reaching for the ears that were being dangled over their heads. “Oh, I forgot. He can’t hear me. It’s such a shame.” 

The father hung his head, his body racking with sobs. Blood trickled down the side of his cheeks, staining his vision. His chin was grabbed with force, a dirty, bloody hand reaching inside of his mouth to grab his tongue. 

“Let’s quiet you, shall we? What an obnoxious noise you make. Be careful, or you’ll wake your daughter. Oh, wait…” He couldn’t hear what his brother was saying, but could just make out the movement of his lips. His brain immediately shoved images of his daughter’s scorched body to the forefront, bringing more tears to his bloodstained eyes. 

The faction leader shoved his thumb through the man’s tongue, holding it in place. The sheer pain nearly made him pass out again, but he didn’t have the chance to before the final taste of rust was thrust into his throat. Then, he choked on more blood. 

“See? He could have said something! Not now though!” The faction leader dropped the taste muscle onto the ground at people’s feet, and they all swarmed around it like moths to a flame. 

"Ah, that pretty little nose of yours. I bet it would be a blessing to remove, huh, what with how filthy you are?" The father's eyes grew ever wider as the rusty piece of metal came closer to his face, to a place he couldn't see. He closed his eyes as the sawing began, wanting to cry out but choking on his own blood.

“The last thing I’ll remove is your vision, then I’ll administer the Doctor’s serum so you won’t feel a thing anymore. You’ll just be nothing then.” 

The father looked at his brother in fear, then his eyes widened even farther as a familiar presence was then stripped from him. The locket from around his neck was lifted, the black chain catching the pendant, causing it to shake. It then fell to the wood in front of his knees, and he could only watch as it was crushed beneath the leader’s heel, shattering.

The last thing he envisioned was the rusty piece of metal being lifted to his eyes, then, complete blackness. 

All the man could do was think, and feel. And all he felt was pain. The pain of his bruises, the pain of his missing organs. But he could not hear. He could not see. He could not taste. He could not smell. A sharp prick in his neck alerted him to the administration of the serum. Slowly, a calm numbness flowed throughout his body. He became nothing but consciousness.