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The Padded Room |
| Written by Alex Hodson | |
| Tuesday, 08 April 2008 | |
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Share it:       You're not in Hell son, in Hell there would be fire. Fire and brimstone.Matt opened his eyes. At first he saw nothing, only a white blur, then his eyes adjusted to the light and he felt the soft padding against his arm. He was stiff all over and his right arm was aching badly. He closed his eyes and lifted his left hand to shield the blinding light from his eyes. Sitting up, he squinted across the room. His eyes were still adjusting but he saw the dim outline of another figure, sitting up in the opposite corner. As his eyes focused his hands clenched. The mysterious figure was sitting, asleep, in the opposite corner with his head slumped on his shoulder, half in shadow. The other half of his face was badly burnt, as if it had been melted off. His right eye glinted in the light. Matt saw with a small gasp that the man had a red pupil that seemed to still be burning with whatever fire had scarred his face. He looks as if he came from Hell, from the Devil's pits where people drink poison and piss ash. Matt wanted to keep his eyes focused on the figure. For some reason he didn't trust him, his appearance had scared him out of his stupor, yet curiosity drew his eyes away from the dark corner. Matt looked up and saw where the light was coming from. There was a circular light embedded in the white, padded ceiling. As he looked around he saw that they were both sitting inside a square room. No door. No vent. No escape. You will always be alone my boy. Alone with nobody ‘cept them freaks you see out on the streets. Drunkards. Tramps. Fit for nuffin' they is, ought to be strung up, strung up ‘til there eyes pop out of their dirty skulls. Matt looked back at the figure. A thin string of saliva dripped from his quivering lip. He didn't know what it was, something about the man drew his attention. It was something he couldn't explain but he felt it nevertheless, deep down inside him he felt that he was connected with him, like a father to a son. Don't you touch me. Don't you dare. If you do I swear I'll knock off your bleeding skull. Don't ever trust those ******* drunkards. Matt shifted his weight onto all fours and pushed himself upwards. He found his head almost brushed the ceiling when he stood up. He had no idea where he was, no idea of the time, date or... Who was he? Sure, he could remember his name, that was as clear as daylight, but what about his family, his friends, his school? Then there it was, a single figure he could remember the most, someone he'd despised but had loved at the same time. I am only second to God in your life sonny. I am the archangel, the light bringer, the sin punisher. Matt frowned in concentration. He licked his lips but all he saw was that dark shadow of a man. Was he laughing at him? Was he grinning? Was he the one who had turned the lights out all those years ago? Matt turned in a circle until he was facing his companion again. The man was still asleep, that red pupil staring at the floor while the other side of his face hid itself in shadow. His upper lip kept twitching in rhythm like a spider twitches after it has been stamped on. Matt backed away until he felt the wall behind him and then he began to run his fingers all over the surface of the padding. There had to be some sort of opening. A hidden door? A window? Something that would give answers, any answers, to the burning questions he had inside. You be proud of your history sonny, you ‘ear me? Because you ‘aint gonna get it back. You understand me boy? Matt went all the way around the room, leaving out the man's dark corner, and he didn't find anything. He went back to his corner and slumped down. He sniffed the air only to smell the musty scent of the padding as well as a strange odour, it seemed to emanate from the man in the corner. He had never smelt it before. It was then that the man began to stir. It was as if a cold chill had made the man shiver and he began to shake from his feet to his head. It only lasted a moment, then that red pupil moved in its socket. That was all that moved. That single red pupil shifted from side to side, up and down before coming to rest on the figure of Matt in the opposite corner. The pupil seemed to stare at Matt for a long time, its red glare burning into Matt's face as they both sat there, one man still half in shadow and a younger boy shaking with cold fear and a terrible sense of dread. The mans eyes narrowed and he slowly began to move. Matt stayed in his corner. His fear made his heart pump erratically. He's one of them you know son. Them murderers. Them who take lives and tear families apart. We spit on 'em, no good rats should be trod into the dirt like the vermin they are. Have you ever seen 'em look at you? You don't wanna, they 'ent human like us, they are the tool of the devil, the blood spillers, the fire starters, the soul eaters... Matt watched and waited. The man in shadow got slowly onto his feet and looked up at the ceiling where he saw the single light. He then stared at his feet and spluttered. Matt saw a small drop of spittle dribble down his chin and drip onto the floor where it soaked into the padding. Drip, drip, drip, the devil man was coming... The man coughed again and then spoke for the first time, "You kid...you know where we are?" Matt couldn't see the mans eyes as he was still looking at the floor. He simply shook his head. "You have any idea how we got here?" Matt shook his head again. The man looked up. "Hey sonny...I'm not gonna do anything to you...relax..." Matt flinched at the word ‘sonny', the word was splintered somewhere in his mind, he felt an embarrassing question arise in his throat, "I'm sorry...but what happened to...to your face?" The man stared strangely at the kid in front of him. He raised his hand towards his face and felt his cheek. It was abnormally smooth to touch, yet here and there he felt a fleshy lump as if something had crawled into his cheek and died there. He began to remember. He saw the flames curling up before his eyes, the screams, the cries. Oh, those screams were terrible. They were the screams of dead people walking, screams that had given him nightmares and made his skin crawl. The man came back to reality and saw Matt there. The boy looked back inquisitively, he was intrigued now, he had seen the man touch his face and he had seen the moment of grim realisation in his eyes. "My name...my name is Richard," the man said, his hand dropped limply by his side, "I don't have any idea how I got here...but I do remember one thing...how I got this..." Richard raised his hand and felt his cheek again, Matt saw him grimace with disgust. Matt sat up. His fear for the man was still there but he was interested nevertheless. For some reason the man hadn't seemed human to him, a strange creature in the room with him, something to be feared. The story Richard offered now made him seem more human, and in the Padded Room humanity seemed to be a long way away. When you're alone, alone at night, lying in the darkness, your inner demon will arise. This demon is fear. Fear will consume you, will conquer you, will tear you apart. Conquer fear and you'll be blessed... Matt swallowed, his Adam's apple felt like a brick grinding at his windpipe. Richard sat down in front of Matt and licked his lips. After a moment's pause he was ready to begin. "I think it was back in 1988, I was about eighteen years old at the time. It had been two years since I'd graduated from University and believe me, I felt like the world was waiting for me to make my first move. I guess you could say I'd been bred to believe the world would welcome me with open arms, some bullshit teacher probably taught me that, anyway, during University I remember my friends talking about their own ambitions, they wanted to do this and that. Yet when they asked me I had no idea, and they seemed to hate me for it. It was like I was someone who wouldn't have a future, maybe they thought after University I would simply fade away, like some god damn bat shrinks away from the light. I called them friends but they weren't, they were people who'd toss you in the gutter the moment you weren't needed. It was one day, I remember it being Winter because I was cold all over and shivering. I was walking down the street when I saw a huge billow of smoke, rising up into the sky and blocking out the sun. It was the most terrifying and amazing thing I had ever seen, the way it seemed to eat up the sunlight - cast us all in darkness. It made my skin bubble. I walked towards it, I still don't know what drew me to that place. Was it the enormity of the situation? Was it the simple curiosity of a young mind? God forbid, I hope it wasn't the thought of death that pulled me forwards but I walked towards it nevertheless. It was as I turned the corner that I first saw it. A house was ablaze with flames. The building was a burning ball of red. The flames were clawing out of every window and licking every wall. I saw it and froze. I remember tasting the ash on my mouth and feeling my eyes sting and water. The truth was; I was in awe. The way the fire was devouring the building and everything inside it, of course I was horrified, but the intensity of it and the relentless attack of the flames almost made me admire the fire, not as a friend, but as an enemy." Richard stopped talking and coughed again. Matt had been silent for a while, listening intently. Matt noticed how pale and shrivelled Richard looked in the light above them, as if he had had the weight of the world placed upon his shoulders and had been forced to walk around hunched while everyone pointed and laughed at him. Matt knew how that felt and it angered him, pushing all other thoughts of horror and disgust out of his mind. True hero's bear the scars of their sacrifices. True villains remain unscathed, remember that sonny, remember that until your dying day. "So what happened next?" Matt asked. Richard stroked a small patch of bristle on his chin, "Well, it was then that I looked at a door at the bottom of the building and I saw something that amazed me. A figure emerged from the billowing smoke like a hero out of some action movie, and he was carrying a small girl wrapped in blankets. The girl was unharmed. It was then that I realised who the real hero's were, the people who put their lives on the line for people they never knew, or were ever likely to know. It was then that I knew what I wanted to do. Although it sounds like some young kids mad dream, I wanted to do what those men were doing." Richard sniffed at the stuffy air. He could still remember the smell of the ash and the cheer of the gathered crowd as that man emerged carrying the child. "So when did you become a fire-fighter?" Matt asked. "You catch on quickly kid, at first you seemed like the dim type." Matt frowned. Richard smiled. "I became a fire-fighter about five years after that. It was after a few more years that something happened..." Richard paused and swallowed. Matt continued to watch him intently, yet again he was interested and intrigued by the man sitting in front of him, there was something familiar about him. It scared him to the core. "What was it?" Richard looked up from his gazing at the floor and Matt saw his furrowed brow and watery eyes. It was the look of a man fighting to keep in the tears and show no weakness. I better not catch you cryin' sonny, cause if I do, you'll get the **** knocked out of you. Don't you go weepin' like some sissy or you know what'll happen... "I can't remember the exact time it happened, but I was on duty...the call came in about a fire at a homeless shelter, with many people inside...so we rolled out as usual, lights blaring and sirens screaming. When we arrived at the scene the bottom floors were ablaze - I can still smell the burning flesh-it creeps into my mind every now and then...my stomach churns with the thought of it...there were screams...it was the screams of people still trapped above the flames. Maybe they were screaming for rescue, maybe it was for a miracle or maybe it was the fear that they may soon be gone from that place. Gone to some goddamn place down in the dark. Who the hell knows what happens? All I knew was that I had a job to do and I had to try and push all of those screams, flames, even the reek out of my mind before I froze right there in my tracks, to frightened to move. We knew we couldn't go in there. The fire was out of control. We had the hoses on it but we'd never put it out in time to save the few poor souls still trapped upstairs. It was at that point that something pulled me towards that burning house, it was something out of the ordinary, like someone was pulling me willingly along like a dog on a leash. I had blocked out all else, the shouts of everyone, the roar of the consuming flames and the fear for my own life." Richard paused and felt his face again, he didn't need to say anything else for Matt to know what happened next. "I don't remember anything else except the wall of fire all around me, then nothing, even the screaming stopped...which I guess was a good thing...the next thing is that I wake up here in this ******* place." Richard looked up at Matt, it was a look of interest. Matt watched the red pupil linger on his face for a second before looking around the room. "So you don't remember anything about your own past? Before you got into this **** hole I mean," said Richard as he continued to stare aimlessly around the room. He looked at the light for a second before turning to face Matt again. "No," Matt replied, "...I mean nothing important, I remember some things...like going to church...wandering the streets at night..." Late the hour is. Late, late, late. Shadows creep and monsters wait, wait in the darkness for a fresh piece of meat... "My father is the person who has brought me up, I never knew my mother. She died in a house fire..." Richard blinked. "I'm sorry..." he said stupidly. Matt's face flickered with annoyance. Everyone would always say that, the ‘s' word that means **** all. If they were truly sorry they would get down on their dirty, sinful knees and pray for the woman that had bit the dust. "I never really knew her anyway. She died when I was about one. But dad brought me up from then on...he's a good father..." "Do you know what I've realised Matt?" Matt shook his head. He was still thinking about his father. "I've realised that no matter what you do in life, whatever good deeds or bad deeds, it doesn't matter in the end, because its luck you really need. All my friends probably went off to make piles of money, just because of their luck. It didn't matter that they were bad people, that they would **** their own mothers if it would benefit them, all that mattered was that they were lucky. Nothing more, nothing less." Matt watched Richard as he said this. He said it with that strange, demonic glint in his eye that wouldn't go away. "If they truly are bad people, they'll face their judgement in the end," said Matt, without realising it. It had driven up his throat and forced itself out of his mouth, like a foul smelling belch. It was something he remembered from his past. "So you believe in all this religion crap do you? That there is someone up there, watching our every move and waiting to judge us? Let me tell you what I've learnt, if there is a Creator, a God or whatever the hell you wanna call him, then he is a mean, self righteous prick who enjoys watching suffering." Matt felt a hot surge of anger. He didn't know where it came from, but all of a sudden he wanted to strike the man before him, smear that blaspheming face all over the padded walls. Yes. Do it. Do it now. That would make him see the truth, feeling his own pain as he is crushed. He will scream for salvation and then see the truth mirrored in his own burning blood... Matt shook away that feeling. He had felt it before, it was the snake uncoiling itself inside. Chewing on his insides and spreading its intoxicating poison until he was under its spell. "I wanna get out of this place," Richard said, breaking the silence, "We must have been in here for hours now, there's gotta be a way out." Matt heard the desperation in his voice and felt slightly sick. They were trapped in here and he knew it. Trapped like mice, about to be fed to a bloodthirsty serpent. Matt was too busy contemplating their situation to notice that Richard had stopped looking around. Instead, he was staring fixatedly on the light embedded into the padded ceiling. It shone like a beacon of hope in his eyes and all other things drifted out of his mind. Richard could smell freshly cut grass, the gentle breeze on his face and the long road spiralling into the distance, vowing for adventure... "I think I can get us out," he said. Matt looked up. He was surprised at Richard's change of voice. This new voice was filled with hope and enlightenment. Matt, however, was filled with concern. He knew Richard had been a hero once, but his mind had decayed since then and now he had descended into a selfless prisoner, a prisoner in his own shallow mind. Richard stood up, his head was close to the ceiling. He moved under the light and shielded his eyes from the glare with his left hand. Carefully, with his right, he placed his fingers on the edge of the lamp and forced them in between the lamp and the padding. He then pulled the padding away and with a slow movement of his fingers he managed to get the light to pop out of its hole. The light dangled from its wires in the middle of the room. It still worked but it had begun to flicker slightly, casting shadows every now and then upon Richard's obscene, grinning face. He began to pace around the flickering light. "Stop it Richard," said Matt nervously, he remained sitting in his corner but was prepared for anything. What did I tell ya? This sonofabitch is gonna drop you into the crapper with ‘im... Richard looked at Matt. It was if he was looking at Matt properly for the first time. He saw the fear in Matt's eyes, that clouded sense of impending doom. "Do you wanna know what happened to me after my little accident?" said Richard, he smiled, "I was abandoned, just like my god damn friends abandoned me all of those years ago. I was deemed ‘unfit to continue my service'. I had just survived horrible injuries and now they were kicking me while I was down, wiping that little accident all over my face just because I had decided to save those poor people in that building." Richard looked at Matt, he had a look of feverish anger and that red pupil made him look hungry for something. Matt remained silent. Richard looked up. There was now a circular hole in the ceiling, but it was tiny. There was barely any room for someone to reach in with their hand, let alone climb through. "After that I...I fell apart...I can remember it all now...the dark nights out on the streets, lying in the gutter drinking booze...throwing up all over myself. I remember in the morning seeing people, noses held high in the air as if they could judge me there and then. How could they judge me?" That was when the light went out. Matt saw it coming. The light was flickering more often, then it had begun to dim and finally it went out altogether. Matt heard Richard groan in the darkness. The blackness had filled every corner, washed over every surface, burned the shadows into Matt's eyes. "Why, why is this happening to us?" Richard said, the desperation in his voice sounded almost humorous. Matt had almost had enough. He was at his wits end. It was then that he saw it, it was hard to see at first but then it grew more defined. He could see a man sitting in an armchair in the opposite corner of the room. He was licking his lips, wiping his yellow teeth with a blanket of saliva and looking at Matt with searing, judgemental eyes. He spoke and when he did Matt felt himself fall into the usual stupor of obedience. His father leaned forward in his seat and sneered at him. When he spoke Matt couldn't see his lips moving, only the harsh, hollow voice deep in his mind. You wanna get out of here sonny? You wanna run wild and free in God's world? Then you gotta waste this bastard. Did you hear him? He's a god damn drunkard. A filthy breed of the Devil, he may have started out honourably but he's strayed from the path. You should remember what happened sonny, this is all your fault, you ****** up both of your lives... Matt suddenly remembered it. The splinter in his brain had dislodged itself and was presenting itself in clear images. The curling fire. He saw it himself. "You still there Matt," said Richard, his voice sounded uneasy in the darkness. "Yeah I'm still here," Matt replied. He could barely keep the anger in his voice to a minimum. The snake was biting at him, infecting him, bubbling through his veins. Matt stood up. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness and he could see shapes, they got clearer and clearer. More vivid. More real. He saw his masterpiece unfold before his eyes. Looking through the grimy basement window, lying flat on my stomach, I saw the place. The stacks of cardboard boxes piled high contained dirty piles of used clothes. I thought they were filthy. I outstretched my hand and tried to push the window inwards. It wouldn't budge. I tried to pull it outwards. Still nothing happened. I took the only option available, bracing myself for the pain I did what my father had said might be needed, he had told me that a small sacrifice of blood, my own blood, may be needed. I raised my elbow towards the window and smashed it, feeling the biting, burning pain as the glass splintered in all directions. Tinkering as it fell to the floor of the basement. It made me bite my tongue as I felt the shards pierce my skin, ripping open my elbow. The blinding pain didn't stop me, I shuffled my way through the window, ignoring the pain in my elbow and in my mouth. Tasting the metallic blood on my tongue, I lowered myself into the basement. With my feet firmly on the floor, I looked down. A bloody, red patch was soaking my ripped jumper. But that was OK. It had to be done. I moved towards the middle of the basement and pulled out of my back pocket a bottle of vodka. Sin in a bottle, but useful for certain things. I uncorked it, trying to make as little noise as possible. I stuffed an oil-soaked rag into the top of the bottle and braced myself. Here it would begin, the flames of victory would emerge. I pulled out a lighter from my back pocket and placed it so it was touching the rag. I clicked it twice before I saw the spark. The rag caught fire and it spread quickly. The Devil's tool spread faster than I anticipated so I threw it into the pile of cardboard boxes and ran to the window, looking back I heard the explosion of the bottle, watched as the flame climbed quickly up through the cardboard boxes, tearing its way through and releasing a cloud of black, poisonous fumes. Pulling myself back up through the window, I was pleased with myself. The job was done. I would be welcomed into Heaven with open arms. With angels singing and my mother holding me in her floating, angelic arms. My father would congratulate me when he saw that fire on the news. The fire of that god damn homeless shelter... Matt returned to the darkness. He could remember it all now. Every last detail. He now knew what had to be done. The man in front of him was a sinner, an enemy of God. He could hear Richard shuffling in the dark, the shuffle of an unworthy traitor to the cause. He had tried to stop that fire, tried to save those sinners... He moved towards the noise. His footsteps were unheard on the soft padding. The voice of his father returned, unmerciful, unrelenting, it spoke to him from the shadowy corner of his mind. Go on sonny. Do it. Kill the bastard. He is weak, you can overpower him. Do it now. Go on. Do it. Do it. DO IT. Matt heard the angry voice of his father buzzing in his head and now he could see the outline of Richard sitting on the floor. Richard seemed to hear something close by as he sat bolt upright. "You there Matt?" Matt lunged. He fell upon Richard with the full wait of his body. Yelling, kicking and biting. He pinned Richard to the ground. "What the -" Richard began, but his voice was cut off when he felt something. There were fingers on his neck. Curling around the gentle contours of his throat. Richard began to gag. He was losing air. Grabbing Matt's arms, he struggled and wriggled but Matt's strength was unbelievable. He could feel Matt's pulsating anger. The utter hatred radiated from him. "You realise who I am Richard? I'm the sin punisher, like my father," Matt spat, he grinned with madness behind his darkening eyes, "I started that fire, my father made me, I started it and killed all those god damn sinners, those unworthy souls...then you came along and your true character was revealed after that accident, your true self emerged...I thought at first you were like me...then my mind changed." "M-Matt! D...don't do this...I beg you..." Richard gasped, he didn't seem to have heard Matt speak. Matt clenched Richards neck tighter and leaned in close. "I know now...I smelt that reek of alcohol earlier, even now you're soaked in the stuff, the devil's creation..." Matt sniffed and wrinkled his nose at the stench, "You don't deserve to live...you're a traitor to the cause...evil - bringer...EVIL - BRINGER!" Richard struck Matt on the side of his face with his right hand. He felt his hand come into contact with Matt‘s nose. He heard a horrid snap and felt a dribble of blood on his face. Matt fell off, disappearing into the darkness. Richard was breathing heavily, he desperately tried to crawl towards a corner. A wall. Anywhere away from here. But there wasn't anywhere else. Then Matt returned. He leapt like a savage tiger, foaming from the mouth with blood. He ran in the direction of Richard's breathing. He saw his crawling, helpless silhouette in the darkness. His mouth curled into a bloody smile. With satisfaction, he crept around until he was in front of the helpless thing on the floor. It was the thing with the red eye. Richard kept crawling, sobbing and moaning in pain. Then he felt Matt's foot. His fingers felt the point of the shoe, the laces, the heel. He whimpered in the dark. He had become a weeping child with no one to protect him. Matt felt savage pleasure. He brought his foot down upon Richard's head. Once, twice, three times. He heard the beautiful snap of bone. The squirt of the blood. The softness of the brain, Richard's dying scream never left him. He died weeping like a naughty child, confused, scared and alone. He had done it. He had won. His father would be proud. His father would have hugged him with joy. The evil one was dead. It was then that the light sparked. It sparked and cast a light upon the room. In a flash quicker than lightening, the padding caught alight and the small flame grew. The flame spread like a rash. Matt saw the fire but couldn't stop it. Half of the room was already a ball of flame. He tried to escape but there was nowhere. No escape. He watched in horror as he saw the fire creep up Richards body, snatching him away from his humiliation. Matt gasped as he saw Richard's face curl up into a blackened grin. His red pupil burned bright. The flames curled up before Matt's eyes and he screamed. He screamed for Richard, he screamed for his father and the coming doom. His fathers word were written upon the flames dancing before his eyes: You're in Hell now son, in Hell there's fire. Fire and brimstone.
Copyright 2008 Alex Hodson |
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| Last Updated ( Sunday, 13 April 2008 ) |
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