Dog Blood

on the pain and block everything else out.

18
    HAVE I BEEN ASLEEP? I can’t see the window when I tilt my head back and look behind me. Is it dark outside? Was it even an outside window? Am I in the same room, or did they move me while I was asleep, if I was asleep? Maybe I’ve been awake all the time. I could have been lying here for hours. Might be longer. Might have been here for days.
    Everything’s quiet. Just a slow drip in the corner of the room. Sounds like a leaking pipe. Steady. Constant. I count to eight between drips.
    Throat’s dry. Need water. Want to call out, but I can’t. Don’t know who’s listening. Won’t lower myself to speak to Unchanged even if…
    “How are you feeling?”
    The voice from the darkness scares the shit out of me. I can only move my eyes, and all I see is nothing whichever way I look. Did I imagine it? My heart’s thumping in my chest like I’ve run ten miles. I try to move, but I’m still held tight. Someone’s next to me. I can hear their footsteps and their breathing. Can’t see them, but I know they’re close. I feel them brush against my hand, and my whole body stiffens. The door opens inward a fraction, just enough to let a narrow wedge of dull yellow light trickle into the room.
    “Didn’t mean to startle you,” the deep male voice continues in an African-sounding accent. “I’ve been watching you for a while. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
    The man stops speaking and stands over me. I can see his short but broad frame outlined by the light from outside. Is he waiting for a response? He’ll be waiting a long time ’cause I’m not speaking to anyone until I know who and what they are and why I’m here.
    What’s he doing now? He crouches down, and I can hear him messing with something on the floor beside the bed.
    “You might want to close your eyes. I’ve got a lamp here.”
    I try to keep my eyes wide open, but they shut involuntarily when he strikes a match and lights a bright gas lamp. I force myself to open them again, ignoring the pain, desperate to see as much of my surroundings as possible after what feels like hours and hours of darkness. The brilliant bright light burns my eyes, and all I can see is the mantle of the lamp, glowing white-hot. The roar of the burning gas jet fills the room, incredibly loud after so much silence.
    The intense glare of the light begins to fade as my eyes get used to the brightness. The man puts the lamp on a chair opposite the bed. He turns back around, and I get my first proper look at his face. The bastard is Unchanged. Can’t help but react. I try to lunge forward, the chains still holding me down. I arch my back and try to break free, but I can hardly move. He shuffles back into the corner of the room, too scared to get too close. Need to kill him. Need to get rid of him, but I can’t. Losing control. All I can do is spit. The spittle hits the wall and starts to drip down. Mouth’s too dry to make any more…
    “Finished?” he asks. Bastard. I relax my aching muscles, feeling searing, agonizing pain in my shoulders, wrists, legs, and neck. Can’t stand being this close to one of the Unchanged and not trying to kill him. My guts are in knots. Can’t think straight. Can’t move. Can’t do anything. Need to kill him, but it’s physically impossible. Bastard. Haven’t even got enough strength to spit again.
    The dark-skinned Unchanged man picks the lamp up off the chair again, then puts it on the floor and sits down. I manage to turn my head to the side slightly, and I stare at him. Won’t take my eyes off the fucker. I’d kill him in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for these chains. Five-five, five-six at the most, he’s overweight-as round as he is tall. The whites of his eyes are bright and clear. I imagine them bulging as I wrap these chains around his neck and pull them tight…
    “Take it easy,” he says. “Calm yourself down.”
    He’s unarmed. He’s sitting casually in the chair, and he’s grinning at me with a look in his dark, staring eyes that’s cold and evil. His legs are apart, arms uncrossed, palms open and facing upward. Textbook body language. Does he think I’m stupid? Fucker’s doing all he can to try to seem open and nonconfrontational, but I don’t buy it. Inside he’s terrified, scared shitless because he knows what I’ll do to him when I get free. Can’t stand being this close to him, breathing the same air…
    “Bet you’ve got more than a few