happening. She simply fell, hitting the floor with a sound like wet sand being thrown against a wall. Brand moved down as quickly as he had moved up, and then Henry witnessed something he had never thought he would endure.
Of course, Henry never thought he would have to endure any of this.
* * *
M atthew first felt the sticky substance covering his hand—his right hand, and not just his fingertips, but the whole thing. He looked over at it expecting to find out what covered his hand, but finding horror instead. Blood coated his hand—drying blood. He gripped his penis, which was itself covered with the same maroon substance. His hand moved up and down, up and down, but Matthew felt no pleasure. Instead, pain grew from his groin. His penis was raw, repeatedly meeting the friction of his blood crusted hand going up and down on it.
Matthew shrieked, loud and uncontrolled, into the lighthouse. He stood up, the chair he sat on falling backwards. He held his right hand, the one that had been performing the deed, away from his body as if he wanted to cast it away forever. A filthy piece of him that shouldn’t contaminate anything else. He looked up, across the room, and...
Dear, God, no.
Five bodies littered the floor. Blood leaked everywhere, the ground nearly a puddle of sticky life from the bodies lying on it. Matthew could see the one closest to him, could see straight through the holes in her hands to the blood covered floor beneath. All of them dead. All of their legs spread open from where he— except it's not just he, Matthew. It's you too —had went at them. Five bodies, now truly bodies and not living people, all raped and dead.
Matthew collapsed to the floor, his ass hitting the ground with a loud whap .
What happened?
He couldn't remember. None of it, not a single recollection. Matthew couldn't remember, but he knew the responsible party. Morgant had come alive again and hadn't been content with simply tugging at one of the women. He ripped them from their resting places, thrown them to the floor beneath, and then...
Matthew vomited, turning his head to the side just in time to miss hitting himself.
"Oh, God, what's happening?" He said aloud.
"He's comin' back. I told you he would," the black woman, Sheeb, said from behind him. "He comin' back and he gone take all dis from you. Every bit of it."
Matthew didn't turn around. He continued looking straight ahead, his eyes moving upward to the man he had hung from a cross. Werzen stared back at him, his mouth closed, his legs bent.
"You cain't stop him. Not even if you try," Sheeb said.
Maybe she was right. Maybe next time Matthew woke up there weren't just five bodies on the floor, but forty. All of them dead. All of them completely unusable, their atoms unable to be harnessed. And what then? All of this, every single bit from Rally's death to the man hanging above him, for nothing. All of it destroyed by some rapist who Matthew couldn't put down.
"No, no. There's no puttin' him down. He's comin' and soon he gon' be here fo good."
"Shut up," Matthew said to the old woman. He saw Henry's eyebrows rise at the words.
Maybe he should just do it now, forget the whole thing of fifty-five bodies and just start the entire process at this very moment. Morgant wouldn't have another chance to commit his atrocities, and maybe Brand already had enough people to do what he needed. If he pulled Werzen off the cross and hung him from the rings, that would be one more he could add to the mix. It might be enough, although he couldn't tell right now. He couldn't focus his mind on the necessary math to determine the energy these bodies could generate.
"No," he heard himself say, not knowing the words were coming. He turned his head to Dillan, still hanging in a complete blackness but yet totally aware of the words said around him. Dillan, the oldest of the lighthouse residents, the one who had earned his spot here more than anyone else. Dillan had stopped him. Dillan had
Of course, Henry never thought he would have to endure any of this.
* * *
M atthew first felt the sticky substance covering his hand—his right hand, and not just his fingertips, but the whole thing. He looked over at it expecting to find out what covered his hand, but finding horror instead. Blood coated his hand—drying blood. He gripped his penis, which was itself covered with the same maroon substance. His hand moved up and down, up and down, but Matthew felt no pleasure. Instead, pain grew from his groin. His penis was raw, repeatedly meeting the friction of his blood crusted hand going up and down on it.
Matthew shrieked, loud and uncontrolled, into the lighthouse. He stood up, the chair he sat on falling backwards. He held his right hand, the one that had been performing the deed, away from his body as if he wanted to cast it away forever. A filthy piece of him that shouldn’t contaminate anything else. He looked up, across the room, and...
Dear, God, no.
Five bodies littered the floor. Blood leaked everywhere, the ground nearly a puddle of sticky life from the bodies lying on it. Matthew could see the one closest to him, could see straight through the holes in her hands to the blood covered floor beneath. All of them dead. All of their legs spread open from where he— except it's not just he, Matthew. It's you too —had went at them. Five bodies, now truly bodies and not living people, all raped and dead.
Matthew collapsed to the floor, his ass hitting the ground with a loud whap .
What happened?
He couldn't remember. None of it, not a single recollection. Matthew couldn't remember, but he knew the responsible party. Morgant had come alive again and hadn't been content with simply tugging at one of the women. He ripped them from their resting places, thrown them to the floor beneath, and then...
Matthew vomited, turning his head to the side just in time to miss hitting himself.
"Oh, God, what's happening?" He said aloud.
"He's comin' back. I told you he would," the black woman, Sheeb, said from behind him. "He comin' back and he gone take all dis from you. Every bit of it."
Matthew didn't turn around. He continued looking straight ahead, his eyes moving upward to the man he had hung from a cross. Werzen stared back at him, his mouth closed, his legs bent.
"You cain't stop him. Not even if you try," Sheeb said.
Maybe she was right. Maybe next time Matthew woke up there weren't just five bodies on the floor, but forty. All of them dead. All of them completely unusable, their atoms unable to be harnessed. And what then? All of this, every single bit from Rally's death to the man hanging above him, for nothing. All of it destroyed by some rapist who Matthew couldn't put down.
"No, no. There's no puttin' him down. He's comin' and soon he gon' be here fo good."
"Shut up," Matthew said to the old woman. He saw Henry's eyebrows rise at the words.
Maybe he should just do it now, forget the whole thing of fifty-five bodies and just start the entire process at this very moment. Morgant wouldn't have another chance to commit his atrocities, and maybe Brand already had enough people to do what he needed. If he pulled Werzen off the cross and hung him from the rings, that would be one more he could add to the mix. It might be enough, although he couldn't tell right now. He couldn't focus his mind on the necessary math to determine the energy these bodies could generate.
"No," he heard himself say, not knowing the words were coming. He turned his head to Dillan, still hanging in a complete blackness but yet totally aware of the words said around him. Dillan, the oldest of the lighthouse residents, the one who had earned his spot here more than anyone else. Dillan had stopped him. Dillan had
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