“What a surprise! It’s good to see an old friend,” I say. I extend my hand, and Benji hesitantly shakes it. At least he is smart enough to be polite.
“How is she?” he asks.
My jaw ticks. I don’t like that he thinks he can inquire about the freak’s current state.
“Stable, as expected,” I say. “And the asylum?”
Benji shrugs. “Can I come in?”
I step to the side, extending my arm and allowing him entry. He walks slowly, scanning the foyer, the stairs, and the hallway leading deeper into the house. A rank odor wafts from his body; his fear must have gotten the best of him on his drive here. Benji has always been a cautious man, and though it sometimes gets the best of him, I understand why he must act the way he does. In fact, I’m the one who helped heal his issues.
I’m sure he thought he could save the freak from its issues as well. Perhaps he thinks he can save it now.
I close the door behind us, then lead him toward my home office. This time, the curtains are closed, concealing the view of the laboratory, where my filthy, nasty freak rests in a diaper, rapidly healing from surgery and waiting for its body to process the excess hydration from its recent meal.
I take my seat behind my desk. Benji sits in the visitor’s chair, which is in a slightly lower position, forcing him to look up at me.
“What can I help you with, son?” I ask.
He cringes. “You know I hate it when you call me that. I’m not that young.” He rubs his hand over his face, then crosses his arms. “Where’s my payment? I’m missing a paycheck for the last three months, and those were the hardest. The stuff she wanted me to do?”
Disgust quivers through his body. I nod deeply. Benji, like many others, has the usual interest in sex; his interests have always been extremely plain. I selected him to care for Violet for that sole reason; I wanted him to protect her, and I knew she would never be fully satisfied by someone that dull. He’s so timid at times, I honestly didn’t expect him to confront me about this particular payment issue, not when it would bring up unpleasant memories.
My smile fades slightly. I suppose every man deserves payment for his work. Then again, treating Benji like a man would mean Benji is my equal, worthy of my time and resources, and though I’ve used him a great deal over the last few years, his value is rapidly diminishing.
I straighten my shoulders and write a check for six thousand dollars. Benji leans over the desk, reading my writing.
“That’s it?” he says. “You promised me more for the videos.”
I suppose that’s true.
I crumple the current check and begin writing another. This time, I add another thousand. Benji sighs; he knows not to push me past this. He takes the check and resumes crossing his arms over his chest. His head turns slightly, avoiding my penetrative gaze.
“Violet said something about you being her father,” he says quietly, as if he doesn’t want to say the words too loud, for fear they might be true. “That was a lie, right? I know you were a nurse or a janitor or whatever before you were her mom’s nurse and my doctor, but you couldn’t be Violet’s father, right? You wouldn’t rape a patient. Not after what you taught me.”
I taught Benji many things, including the proper way to behave in society, to always submit to a higher power like myself, and to always, always treat others as if they are the true experts in every situation. Even as a young child, I had a plan for him. While I spent the last few months conditioning Violet to embrace her sexual desperation, with Benji, I simply taught him how to keep his body and mind pure. Additionally, I conditioned him to be completely docile toward me with the help of an embedded trigger. I haven’t had the need to use it yet. Perhaps today will be the perfect opportunity to test its viability post-treatment.
And in some ways, he is correct. My transformation at the asylum has been a long and arduous journey. I started out as a patient—a deviant sniffing his mother’s panties like I saw my father do—and that began my obsession with our natural inclinations. Patient to maintenance worker, maintenance worker to nurse, nurse to doctor, and doctor to CEO, director, and owner. Even before I took my role as its leader, the Ambrose Asylum has experienced plenty of staffing issues over the decades; thus, no one has ever checked my references or paperwork. All patients, staff, and doctors know no one truly leaves the asylum except through death. I fully intend to use the facility to gather additional specimens for my new business endeavor. Perhaps I will even bring the freak with me, using the tools at the facility to properly integrate the freak into its new life.
The Ambrose Asylum gave me access to Violet’s mother among so many others. Of course, I made sure there was no record of her first-born son. His records are entirely fabricated. He doesn’t know I’m the one who chose his given name.
“Don’t worry, my son,” I say. Benji jolts back in his seat. I wink and look down my nose at him. “You took good care of your sister.”
He blanches. Sweat beads his skin, veins tensing on his neck. Rancid odor reeks from his pits.
“Y-y-you’re joking with me,” he stammers. He stands up, points at me, and raises his voice: “You’re not my father. You’re lying!”
I stay seated. I’m undisturbed by his outburst. I taught him well; he’d never hurt me, his father, of all people.
“Not with this,” I say. “You know the truth: you fucked your sister.”
He paces back and forth, his eyes on the floor, his body dripping with sweat. His hands paw at his head as he rips his hair out; it’s a trait he shares with his sister, one they both received from their mother. His words grow in volume: profanities, claims, denials. Oh, so many denials. I ignore each and every one of them.
I open my desk drawer, revealing an older version of the brain chip. I have no need to sedate Benji for his surgery like I did with Violet, nor do I need to waste the newest version of the brain chip on a specimen so beneath our final product.
“She was right,” Benji shouts. He balls his fists, raising them up. “You have to die!”
He comes toward me, as if to attack. I smirk. There’s some surprise left in the world after all.
