Freighting Anonymous

Warning: The subject of this story deals with very heavy themes. This article is for awareness of a variety of topics and not a subjected parody. Art should disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed.

I suddenly realize I'm at the bottom of a pit, my entire body submerged. I can't move, I can't struggle. I'm not even submerged in a liquid, I'm being suffocated by balls as big as grapefruits. I close my eyes, trying to kick, trying to remember anything.

I kick off the ground and use my hands to swim up. The balls feel a lot more like oranges, distributing a disco. Wherever light met the color of the bright plastic balls. The party around me feels insane, I'm not sure why I couldn't notice before. I try to tunnel as fast as I can but the party just seems to be getting quieter. Once I reach the top though, I can only get in a breath.

All I see is my dad and I alone. Watching vivid glimpses of my six year old self drenched in tears before waking back to the grimmer reality. I'm still stuck, submerged and quickly realizing gagged as well. I kick, and kick. My tears quickly being soaked up by a blindfold. Each thrash of my head, leaves a sting of flashing white in my sensory deprived eyes. Without giving up, I kick awkwardly past the objects supporting my confinement. Stomping the wood right behind it.

A loud metal door slams open. Two men in boots stomp in. My escape is on hold.

"Who the fuck is making that noise, do I need to dent your head in? I worked the homeless tramp I found here, I'll take the pay-cut for you to shut the fuck up." One of the men make clear whilst banging what must be crates filling up the room.

"He'll really do it, I saw him kill one of you girls earlier. He got a wrench and buried it into her skull. He did it for fun too." The other man snorts while walking past me.

"Youz girls are special though. I don't want to hurt any of you; the world hasn't ruined you all yet. The head I bashed in was a worthless trouble maker I found. Don't let me find you making trouble. Do you other girls wanna be worthless too?" The first man chuckles.

Now making their way back to the door the second man switches tone. "They still haven't stopped that electrical fire" speaking directly to his accomplice.

"Fuck...I've been doing this too long to go out like this, I don't care what shit it stirs. I'm playing bucket list and not cleanup crew. You handle the gasoline if we can't stop on target" the first man says in a crooked tone.

The door slams- the freezing agony remains, muffled sobbing synchs and resonates past the background noise. Having the throbbing of my head match but not overpower the chugging of the casket I'm in. I start stomping again hearing a brittleness to the box I'm in. Something gives as the box wiggles at its side corner. I prepare to use all my strength to breach the rest. Thrashing my body back. The back of my head makes contact.

The box breaks and I start sliding down a plastic slide. Light slowly fills the slide. Dropping me in a setting I knew. Im back at the ball pit. Sitting on the edge of the slide, I stare at my 6 year old self again. Her short blonde hair flips back, making eye contact. She's still sobbing but as she stares longer. Her tears turn to blood. Her jaw curdles and snaps. Once unhinged she starts to speak

"You ruin everything, you ruin it all again and again. We should die now" she says in not the voice of a six year old, but in my current voice. The shock wakes me.

Waking again, noticing my feet are hanging out of the box. Having most of the balls fall out with them. Since the side of the box was now loose, I use this as the perfect opportunity to start sliding out of the wooden crate. Making less noise than the tumbling objects inside, I use what fell out to dampen the sound of my fall. Feeling the sharp nails scratch up my thighs; I try to make use of their annoyance. Hanging out of the box now, my hands still inside, I begin to make perforations; on the tape biding my hands. Halfway through, the line of tape binding my wrist. I hear the door open back up.

"You fucking kids are going to die anyways. STOP. I mean stop fucking causing a racket!" The sick man who first spoke up, screams in the doorway. Hearing the word kids made me shudder. Trying my best to rip the now perforated tape apart, I quickly reach the side of my head to unmask my blindfold. I was in a crate of mangos that whole time.

Now on my feet and hands free. I hold the mango crate shut, trying not to make any more sounds. Taking in my surroundings I sigh in relief; that I escaped facing a wall. The cold metallic wall stares back at me, each rack tethering bungie cables keeping the crates themselves in bondage. The floor greeted me the same. While the rusty metallic shakes of the train tempt, the box which I was once contained; to rattle against a wall. Joking to make short work of my escape attempt. I quickly loose track of keeping quite. Jumping as much as I can out of the way. Watching mango juice seep off the crates, now flush with the wall. The sweet smelling juice pours at my bare feet. Slapping my feet across a puddle. Slipping my way past crates. I peak out at a walk way between the boxes. unmasked from darkness, streams fluorescent light barrel down the walkway. While the cracks fed darkness, formed by ceiling stacked crates of presumed human inventory.

Noticing a gap in the aisle across from me, I dive over. Hitting my shoulder, while squeezing into a more secure gap. My previous prison cell shifting again. Again making mangos pour out onto the floor. Looking at my shoulder the scrape of the crate; disappeared into previous existing signs of struggle.

"Marty get the fuck in here, I think a box opened up!" The man screams back into the doorway. He stumbles in, boots clanking towards my aisle. "Marty I see a few loose fruit here" He runs down to my mess. "Marty where the fuck are you?" His gravely voice getting horse from shouting, he faces my mango crate. giving a big cough before getting out a flashlight.

Dashing down the aisle "Sorry Frank" Marty pants as he catches up with what seemed to the devil himself.

"I stashed that dead bitch here last minute" Frank chuckles. Picking up a mango, he tosses it at Marty. He continues with his flashlight. The yellow light shines a sunset on my escape accomplishments. I start making a dash behind them sticking my feet to the floor with each step. "I put the damn box back sideways too" Frank exclaims. Somewhat relieved and somewhat offended. I just reach the end of the aisle before diving out of view.

Crawling into another gap, I tuck my knees out of view of the walkway. Hearing the boots clamor back towards the door. The men both at least six foot, stop in their tracks, eying their atrocities with cold smiles.

"This is such a big waste Frank, youz sure we need to get that gasoline. Is there really nothing for this cargo?" Marty creaks his sinuses; his nasally voice horse from a cigarette. Their eyes glint through their ski-masks at each-other. Both somber yet lacking sympathy.

"If this son of a bitch doesn't slow down" Frank brings a cigarette to his mouth, then holds the pack out to Marty. "Moving what we're moving for who" Frank lights his cigarette, unfreezing Marty who grabs one himself. "Youz got to take the right procedures. Youz gotta even give your life" Frank passes his lighter, both prepare for mass murder. Staring off at the towers of children claimed by the devil. The men gasp in clouds, bringing their cigarettes to a sharp red point. Clasping to their hole of vices. Wishing that lung cancer killed them first. All defined in a tearful gaze, while committing the war crime of smirking it away.

"So how long do we exactly have Frank" Marty clasps to his Dart. Trying to put his hand upon Frank's shoulder. Frank shrugs away. Twisting his smirk to anger at the notion of comfort.

"We have about two hours before this becomes a sinkhole in Chicago. The gas cars are already rigged we just need to do our job" Frank continues to step away before making a clumsy twist towards the door. "Im gonna prepare for some fun, make sure to pour the gas twenty minuets before." After opening it he takes a long stare at Marty "Only fucking annoy me if you have to" Marty follows towards the door, with Frank swiftly slamming it in his face.

Beating the door with his knuckles the frustrated Marty lifts the hatch. Pathetically stumbling through and slamming it behind him. Alone with the sobs again, I crawl out and stand on my feet. The rumble of the train rocks me as adrenalin keeps me apart of the machine. My strength through chemical intervention drips in like saline. Absorbing my surroundings as one; I see an odd escape.

The towers of the innocent stacked up by two and three. These pillars of salt and greed; defined in segments four feet a piece. This wicked lease upon me breathes the same air as sinful stares. A vent twelve feet in the air, placed on the wall of the suicidal door. The three columns of cargo overflow; towards the sides. Almost covering it. Making my way to the very right of the car surrounded by muffled screams. I start using boxes as a ladder.

Grabbing the rope tying the crates to the ground, I start propelling up the rough wooden crates on my bare feet. Getting up to the second box, suspended eight feet within the air. I start to slip my feet on the tarp of the first box, which connects the ropes bounding it to the floor. Suddenly two small hand viscously grab my hair. Tugging violently, making their way towards the back of my head.

Desperately clinging for life, a small child starts climbing my hair. Flinging themselves out of the tarp of the second crate. The kid grabs my shoulders and starts climbing up to stand on them. Knowing the task, it makes it way and opens the vent. Swiftly climbing through. The girl undoes her blindfold and smiles at me. The blonde girl from my dreams. The eternal reflection of me as a child stares.

The door bursts open, the boots charge my direction. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!" The anger makes it indistinguishable between the two monsters. The demon rushes at me cocking a gun. Swiftly firing two rounds, one hitting my shoulder. Making me dive backwards. I hit the ground feeling the will I have left shatter. I see myself laughing at me in the vent, the child's laugh rings more than the gunshots. The man approaches and stares over me in silence. Aiming his gun right below my stomach he unloads six rounds. Loading his gun again he fires eight more rounds. The bullets becoming molten in whats left of my organs. Seeping directly to my uterus. My vision shifts from red to black.

I open my eyes, Im quickly crawling through the vent. Hearing a shout echo through. Piercing panic through my ears and not any language. A large hand grabs my left ankle tugging with all its might. I cling desperately to the walls around me. Slipping and stumbling I hit the top of my head. Falling down for a second I see her again, the girl from my dreams. This time with bleeding eyes. Her pale skin almost glows. She opens her mouth in that sadistic, satanic way again. Her broken jaw hanging it starts spewing a thick black goo. The seeping liquid seemingly takes up space itself. My fingers slowly melt into it, eating into my hands. Swallowing me faster and making me dive into a deep dark void.

I start falling faster and faster through space. I face my back towards the void, seeing the reality I escaped; as a growing crack in the sky. The refection of the flashlight on the walls of the vent. Became a peaceful moonlight for just a moment. Glowing brighter and brighter; till it became blistering white light. Eating the sky. Closing my eyes yielded no shade. Enveloped in white light I screamed into the void.

Waking again but in a motel room. The walls shine a harsh white light from a window. Simulating a dense parody of moonlight. Making the room almost monochrome. The cracks on the walls have active cockroaches weaving in and out of the dilapidation towards the mini-fridge. Below laid a dresser cascaded in different grays. Showing itself as scratches and stains but also as a Pollock painting. Giving relief to the atmospheric void of darkness the room contains. Looking down showed my arms, having as many cigarette burns, as the Swiss cheese blanket.

A grim, but handsome man; sat at the end of the bed. Sitting up to see his facial features, I can't help but leave my body. His chiseled face marked with a small tattoos. The one being most apparent in the light. Being a finger gun on his cheekbone. Staring down at my body, the apparition of myself separating reality. Wisps the same light as that defines the beautiful man before me.

"You'd said you'd wanted to do this babe." the man gently caresses my legs. any feelings of enchantment retreat as my real legs writhe. His fingers go through my present ghost and I look away. Only to find that in this reality I'm gagged too. I try grabbing my pale face whose eyes are glazed over. Turning around to see him drop my arm and something small on the floor. "My sweet Anise, you're one of the best girls a rockstar could ask for." Getting up from the bed, envelopes him in a shadows. He opens the door, stepping behind it, for six men. Rough greasy overweight bikers tumble through the door. The leather jackets that stretch around them slowly eat them in the darkness only leaving their greased up, patriotic parody, t-shirts to turn monochrome. All signs of innocence turning grey I see the 'handsome man' enjoying a cigarette outside. I decide to join him, refusing to witness this madness too.

Phasing through the window. I look off into the parking lot of the motel. Floating next to this cursed man I whimper out "why did you do this"

Suddenly looking at me like he knew I was there the whole time. He smiles and lets off a light chuckle. "Don't you remember I stop it this time. Plus you wanted to do this most of the time." Looking agitated, even surprised that I came at him that way.

I stare at him for a minute. "You called me Anise. Though that seems like the only thing that's not god damn lie right now." The handsome man holds out a cigarette for me. Then a lighter. The stimulation of the tabacco grounds me for an instant. feeling the wind actually hit my skin. Touching my feet to the ground. Onto the cold soft concrete. Slightly cooling down my boiling blood.

"Sounds like you'r going through a lot right now Anise, I wish I could be there" His expression purely somber. "I have to deal with this right now though, if you really don't remember. These folk didn't want your traditional services." he then grabs a revolver, tucked in his pants. Bursting open the door with his shoulder. He fires two shots.

Piercing holes in the head of two of the bikers. They collapse by the door they were guarding. Diving by their corpses he fires three more shots. Each hitting the two men positioned on top of me. The man left standing beside my drugged out body turns to my ghost. The cracks in the walls rapidly expand. Eating and shrinking the room to a silvery hospital color. Melting away the corpses and confusing man into a few tattered clothes. Exposed no longer as a silhouette of a biker, Now a man tactically dressed in black, wearing a ski mask. In the much brighter roomette, I've found my half naked body in.

"She's a fighter I give her that. I've never had a fucking stowaway on this shit. Everything has fallen apart to Marty." Frank gasps in. "This dumb bitch has to be responsible for that fire" He drives his fist into the storage space above the small bed. two of the rods holding it up. Have attached handcuffs holding my hands above me. Separate pairs to make sure my hands are strained of movement.

"Frank she's just gonna play dead. Ever heard of a opossum?" Marty sneers back in a nasally tone.

"Marty I dented this woman's head in. I don't even think she's human." Frank sighs out of aggression. "Youz were there when I founds her, She already had all those scratches, eating unpeeled oranges in the corner." Frank lightly slaps my cheek. Distorting my ghostly eyes watching from the doorway. "Hamming two of them down at a time like a feral kid" turning away. Taking a step, towards my astral self, to be next to Marty.

"Youz think she's just acting? Could be from the opposite side of the bure..." Marty is quickly cut off by Frank, whom can't be bothered.

"I think she's a meth'd up whore, that hid on a train." Frank takes out a cigarette. Giving one to Marty before he can freeze.

"At the very least she's tight" Frank takes a drag.

"Frank is their any of that ultra around" Marty lights his cigarette.

"God fucking damnit Marty that shit's gonna melt you'r brain, make you shit retarded". Frank blows the smoke into Marty's eyes.

Reluctantly Frank fishes in his breast pocket, tears a long thin line off of a piece of paper, feeding himself it and hands the rest to Marty. Marty breaks it in half, walking up-to my living cadaver. Standing above it, he brushes my blood crusted hair; now touching my cheek. He purses my lips open, sliding half the paper in; turning around he faces my ghost and Frank. Churning in his own pockets he takes a baggie of pills out. Placing the rest of the paper on his tongue, revealing the grid of flowers on the top of the paper; grinding the pills against his teeth. He closes his mouth.

"Your a weird fuck you know that Marty" Frank pulls out his own baggie, dipping a key into it and flings it in his nose. "Getting unplugged at the peak of this shit sounds like hell" Frank dips his key again. After it ejects up his nose a second time. He flicks his cigarette and walks almost sideways to the door. "I'll let you have your romance" Frank stammers before the metal door slams.

Slipping back into the void. The crash and vibration dissipate my ghost. I hear a T.V. turn on and the channels change with my heart beat. Each click interrupts the ringing of my skull. Relief each second turned into relief each minute as Marty makes up his mind. The sound of the TV is distorted beyond channel change.

"Jane Doe" Marty exclaims shaking my beyond bruised leg. "You like the movies?"

I still can't open my eyes, moving my jaw feels like pure hell. The ringing in my ears and the aches of my body, overpower the shakes and chugging of the train. Any light in the room is blinding to my eyes, I feel like I'm boiling in my skin. I'm desperate to throw up, yet some primordial presence keeps me from vomiting on my back. I feel Marty begin to touch my thighs. He grips my crusted and bruised left one. I feel like I was burned but I know if I was it, wouldn't hurt as bad. He props his other hand on my other thigh. To my surprise he shifts me back and to my side. The sound of the TV phases into my perception. I truly can't understand a word at all though. I hear people speak straight gibberish.

"Aerfk smodl aki" a happy woman exclaims.

The TV then stopped making any sounds at all. The sound of my heartbeat rings like gunshots as I feel Marty touch my face. He brushes his hands behind my ears, slowly caressing me. If he's speaking I can't hear a word he's saying. He stops touching my face and reaches for my right wrist. Shaking it a bit tension, is released, and my arm folds onto the bed. Doing the same to the left one. I feel it fall limp on my body. Marty adjusts them into comfortable positions, placing them modestly on my chest. The flash sound of the TV turning off breaks my perception overload.

"Youz a miracle I think, Frank can't see woman as people. He's a chauvitist." Marty yeeps and sneers. He sits a little closer to me on the already crammed bed. Adding suffocating pressure to my bruised body. I feel like I'm gonna pop. Vomit erupts out of my body. "Baby I'll make youz feel perfect In this last hour" Marty whispers in my ear. He stands up relieving enough pressure to open my eyes.

"Honey I'll let you pick the channel. Do you wanna see our tapes" the changing demonic face licks its lips. "I can barely see the gorgeous color of your eyes those pupils are so big" it Sneers. "Your big old button eyes I wish you could be my doll forever" he begins to touch me with his scaly shifting flesh.

"Doll" The single word vacantly falls out of my mouth. I close my eyes, I feel my lips wiped with fabric and then met with a mouth. I try pushing as much as I could barely prying his lips off. "no" weeps out. He begins petting my face again and, again my body filters out his needles of words. I feel him squeeze my shoulder, the pain and pressure is unbearable. All I want is to do writhe yet, I can barely shake. Tears evacuate my face and lips meet my gasping breath. I feel the back of my head sink, and wrinkle. The coldness of my body begins to boil. I push him off as much as I can screaming through my mouth. The struggle stops and falls into the silence of my heartbeat. I fight the immense swollen weight of my eyelids. Opening them to see Marty reveal his face out of the bottom of the shirt. Now off of his body he grips my wrists. Throwing them over my head.

Staring down at me the innocence he falsely portrays. Sat vacant in his glazed feral eyes. "I'm not a rough man like Frank youz see" Marty touches my already bare violated chest. Everything burns. I try to kick, I pray for strength, I pray not to exist. This feeling of prey and the idle of death. The pressure in my body, this internal bleeding feels like I'm gonna pop. My brain feels delayed, decayed begging to stop. My body bruised and bare; worse than naked my structure has been made a prop chair. I feel an explosion building and my back getting tense. Marty lifts my butt, then shifts to fastening the handcuffs again.

Anise thrashes back and leaves her body. Broken and bruised she's only possessed by preservation. Beating a battle of more than withdrawals and starvation. Marty on the other hand is welcomed to an omnipresent perspective. A man with a following orders directive. Maybe he did fall in love with Anise. Acid can't spoil an already bad bag of meat. Yet both awoken to the moment. Being above and beyond what can be spoken. They both understood the intimacy of murder. How who made it out was the true sheep herder. Marty continued his advances, speaking clear about his past intimate dances.

"I promise I'm just a womanizer, youz think I atleast look like ziggy?" Marty exclaims, brushing his hands to my inner thigh. Anise continues screaming trying to kick, filling her soul with more hope, with each thrash of her body. Still as with in yet so without the dance continues. Finally getting her hands free she pulls Marty close. Meeting his lips readily she jams her tongue in, baiting his own. Getting what she wanted the serpent entered her mouth. Receiving orders from god, Anise bit as hard as she could.

Blood rained down upon Anise. Marty quickly pulls away striking her across the face. Anise cannot feel as she makes up the world. She claps her hands against Marty's ears. His ears now ringing he grabs them as they now pour from blood like his mouth. Marty desperate and discombobulated is met with Anise's final blow. Marty's eyes pop as Anise fingers his skull. Anise can see herself now. She's met with a pure soul to inhabit.

"You're alive, we're gonna make it out alive" I speak to myself from Marty's corpse. "You need to become a demon to survive, angels were brutal creatures to preserve few with faith" I continue to live through this corpse, blinking my hollow eyes I come back to mine. Facing my own atrocity.

His hollow body feels like a metric ton on top of me. I roll and push him off the bed. I try not to lay vacant too long but my body is unbearably exhausted.

Pounding suddenly erupts from the door. "YOU FUCKWIT YOU DIDNT DO SHIT, IM GOING TO KILL YOU BEFORE I KILL EVERYONE ELSE" Frank pounds the metal door even louder. "TALK TO ME MARTY" the muffle screams vibrate the door. With the drops of adrenaline I had left. I lept to the top shelf, tucking myself away tightly. The luggage hatch barely fitting over my knees. The door falls silent, only being shown through a small gap in the compartment door.

Gunshots pierce through, breaking the lock and my ears, Frank stumbles through. Waving in anger at his next victims corpse. His screams fall on deaf ears as Marty and my ears ring endlessly. Breaking some of the silence his damp voice finally breaks through

"NOT A SINGLE FUCKING THING IN THE WORLD YOU COULD DO RIGHT YOU DESERVED THIS" Frank lifts and kicks Marty's cadaver. The life left in the body spasms but Marty will never learn Franks lesson. Marty now sees no evil, he no longer speaks this wicked tongue and I envy him for not needing to hear his conviction. Frank drops Marty's seizing body. In a rage he reaches back for his baggy. Bringing his wallet out too he takes a bill out and rolls it tight. Dipping it straight in his baggy he does a quick nostril test. He takes off his ski-mask and goes to town

The way his face contorted shook me to my soul. A face of relief grew like a tumor on-top of his desperate anger. Yet the hate shot out like spikes of bone. His throat dropped in relief hanging there accepting the drip to come. He was a horror show, but one I dreaded and yearned for.

Frank opens his eyes, staring directly at the luggage shelf I'm tucked away in. His monstrous face stares directly into my beaten sunken eyes. I feel each dark intention, as his gaze reaches me, through the small gap. He looks down and takes in another nose full. A deep perverted laugh, expels from his mouth, on his way back up.

"Eugh eugh eugh eugh" Frank wheezes in. "Such a ugly bitch killed him, such an ugly stupid bitch" he talks in a cracky deep voice. Kinda Like he's 'hitting on me' or Marty's dying body. He takes a step towards me, I jump back. Hitting the back of my head. Darkness tries to reach me again, fighting it I focus on the light tunneling away from me. I feel detached, my arms and legs feel freed in the void. I start running towards the light, Sprinting as fast as I can. My heartbeat carries each step with heavy bass.

Making it across the void, I reach the light. The blinding light surrounds me. Slowly dampening into a train cart that continues shifting endlessly.

I keep running and the train cart keeps getting longer, tears keep streaming down my face. I truly can't tell if I'm being chased. My vision and hearing are buried in madness. I hear banging indistinguishable from gunshots or stomping ahead of me. My paranoia Invades every part of my body, preventing me from looking behind myself. I can't stop running. I try to get my first glimpse of a window but nothing makes sense. I feel like I can see through the floor as, the rumble of the tracks, try to muffle whats ahead of me. Reaching the door my vision slowly catches up-to me bouncing back as I slam against the cold steel door.

Using all my weight I pull the door back. Fighting the vacuum of pressure from the speed of the train. I begin to wedge myself against it, only getting crushed between the door for a second before sliding into the cold wind. It's so hard to not want to jump and hit the ground at top speeds. Taking a different leap of faith I get to the other side of the train cart gap.

All the strength in the world barely made this door budge. Sliding through it I'm met with a silent hallway of roomettes. Looking into the first room revealed a grim sight.

A woman laid euthanized. Shot in the head. Stumbling back I dreadfully fall back into the room behind me. A couple laid shot dead. I slowly discover this train car has been cleared out. I Immediately throw up.

"Engaging over" A sharp beep follows this new voice. Panicking I look desperately look for a place to hide. Finding a private dining area to duck under I begin to wait as footsteps patter towards me.

Two men enter the room and stand right above me. It's like they teleported. They slowly put their guns down as they scan the room, expecting little to no resistance.

"This one seems clear" One breaks the silence from the ski-mask.

"Wait" the other responds with assurance.

Trying not to make a sound I feel nausea consume me. coiling up and looking down, finally being able to get a look at my body. I notice I've clothed myself. Back in the yellow jumpsuit but wearing Marty's jacket. I no longer feel vulnerable. Tucked in the right jacket pocket: is a pistol, crystal and a few pills. Taking it out, I reach in the left one taking a dollar from the wallet. I crush the crystal with the pistol and use the dollar to make it go away.

I whistle to the masked men. Putting gunshots in both their heads. Dropping in an instant. I jump up and feel the rush beginning.

"psycho omega breached conductor" The radio hissed from one of the jackets. "Repeat train will stop rogue actors. Kill him and any civilian" the radio cuts off. I stand over them praying this to be over. Assuming they were talking about Frank. I make my way back. Filled with adrenalin I flip back through the train carts. Each door a paperweight and each rush of wind a relief. Fixated on finding, any short term memory, I slowly begin to feel haunted

Breaking past my fourth door I begin to get clumsy and slam the back of my head against the door, closing behind me. I start to see visions of Marty parading the windows, drifting back into a wonderland of hallucinations.

His eyeless sockets stare at me through the window. I feel powerless as he chases me; outside the train. His gaze entering me deeper and, deeper I pry open the sixth door.

I see his jacket float ahead of me hovering over a window. Trying to enter the second to last train-car. I get flung what feels like thirty-feet towards, the tracks, that shift under me.

The unbearable screeching from the train begins; as the brakes bite down on the rails. Colliding face first in the snow. I blackout again.

Another unbearable void, this time my skin truly does feel like meat loaf. I try to speak to myself some soloquiy but, I can barely think in this primordial pudding. I calmly wait for everything to go dark. I feel nothing. I want there to be nothing.

I wake up. I feel a cold metal floor, my eyes feel crusted and vacant. I peel myself off the metal slab. Sitting up I feel the train move again. I reach for my eyes feeling another blindfold. I peel the fabric off of my blood crusted eyes. Revealing the car I first woke up in. This time though it's empty and light shines through. The cold metal reflects back almost brighter than the light. I deflate completely into a sigh. All I could think about was the cargo that's no longer here. I lean between two windows and sob. My soul feels severed. My head split in two.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK" Anise bangs the back of her head against the wall behind her. Each bang for each scream, each giving a crunch from the previous damage. Pulling the blindfold over her eyes. She begs god not to remember a second. Reaching in her pockets she pulls out the Crystal and pistol. Doing the same ritual but repeating the drug intake till her head was popping from pressure. The girl from her nightmares appeared as quadruplets. Pulling at her arms and legs, Anise laid on the floor as the young girls tried to split her in four.

"Failure" the girls say in unison as they dislocated Anise's arms and legs. "You can't even protect yourself" her appendages creak and crunch from the ripping.

Anise fires a shot from the gun in her hand, the hand now free, she fires three shots point blank. There's no body or body strain. Violently my ears ring. I point the gun towards myself, slowly squeezing the trigger. Click yet the only bang came from the door.

Frank enters the room, the smile on his face wide and proud. Caked in blood he walks up to my hunched cowering body. I don't look at him, my ears still ringing, I can't tell if he's speaking. He Strikes the side of my lead and I fall limp over.

"Im a person who gets things done here it's simple, we stopped on target, I took care of you and your fucking goons." Frank takes a calm breath continuing his quiete rage. "The only thing there really letting me do is keep you as a present" stuffing a pill down his throat he continues "Imagine the bullshit that is, just you and none of the cargo you're worried about"

"Hey Frank you were right" I cough up blood with the rest of my will. "I'm just a meth'd up whore, they probably wanted to kill you because your worse filth than me" I cough again. Barely breathing I point finger guns.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.