We wordlessly split apart, creating distance between us as we move toward the woman. She hasn’t noticed us. Her attention doesn’t waver on whatever she’s doing.
As we advance, we cage her in. Then I see what has her so captivated as the scene comes fully into view. Horrific doesn't begin to cover it and for a moment I forget how to breathe.
A man hangs upside down from the ceiling, naked, with his legs spread forming a V-shape, a hook jutting through the area above both of his ankles. His arms dangle uselessly toward the floor. A slow sway sets him in motion back and forth as the weight of him pulls a strained metallic groan.
In front of him stands a woman in blue scrubs, too clean for this room. Bose noise-canceling headphones sealed over her ears, explaining why she didn’t detect us entering the room. A surgical mask hides the lower half of her face, but her eyes are unchanging as she is in a robot-like trance. Blue gloves cling tightly to her hands and in one hand she holds a fillet knife. The knife is built for preciseness, thin and tapers to a fine point, allowing it to slip cleanly along bone and under skin with minimal to no resistance.
Cassidy and I are rooted in place, struck with stunned disbelief as we watch her analyze the man, or what is left of him, and then slice a piece of skin from his body, tossing it into the cooler propped up beside her.
From his head to his torso, the first two layers of skin have been removed, leaving behind the deepest layer, so he is a yellowish like color. The only skin still intact is on his legs. His internal organs are held in place by his abdominal wall muscles.
In other places, I see muscles and tendons where she cuts deeper. His corneas have been extracted, and all that remains are empty eye sockets. All the skin has been delicately removed from his face.
That’s when I remember an article I came across months ago. It talked about wealthy buyers paying obscene amounts of moneyfor human tissue because they believed by consuming it that it could preserve their youth. At the time, it sounded too grotesque to be real. But after everything we’ve seen over the last two years, I know better. There are people in this world willing to spend fortunes chasing immortality, no matter who gets hurt in the process.
I jerk my head in Cassidy’s direction; she observes me, and her eyes search mine for what to do next.
I look over to where we left jackinthebox149, stationary and on the floor where we left him. I raise my eyebrow as confirmation.
At once, Cassidy lunges at the woman, tackling her at the waist, catching her off guard, and they hit the ground with a heavy, dull thump, sending the knife flying in the opposite direction.
In the span of a breath, Cassidy is straddling her stomach. The woman is thrashing all over the place, so Cassidy rears back her fist and it connects with her jaw, forcing her face to the side. A bone crunching sound fills the room as the woman groans. Cassidy lets her rage take over and unleashes on her face, landing punch after punch. Blood gushes from her nose. Then Cassidy hops off her and kicks her onto her stomach. Containing her wrists and removing a zip tie from her vest, she fastens them behind her, along with her ankles.
I retrieve the fillet knife as Cassidy hauls her to the chair in the corner, strapping her to it with more zip ties.
The woman moans and her head rolls to the side, blood flowing from her nose.
Cassidy stands in front of her and lifts her hand, palm open and unhurried, and delivers a sharpslapacross her cheek.
I don’t step in; I don’t need to.
This is hers.
I move to the side, giving her space but staying close enough to step in if she goes too far.
The woman starts to speak, and Cassidy’s hand slaps across her other cheek.
The woman gasps, head snapping sideways.
Cassidy grips her chin harshly, dragging her gaze back up to hers, and then her eyes flick past Cassidy at the man behind her, at what she did.
At that moment, I feel it too, that cold, crawling rage under my skin.
“Look at me,” Cassidy digs her fingernails into her skin.
“Please, you don’t understand,” she pleads, disoriented and fear written across her face.
“Stop.”
Cassidy withdraws her hand from her chin but doesn’t give her any space.
The woman breaks into sobs.
“Please, I can explain.”
Cassidy squats in front of her and smiles.
“Oh, you will,” she whispers ominously. “You just haven’t realized yet that you don’t get a choice.”
