damned_institute | NIGHTSHIFT 28: M31-M40 HALLWAY

Caim tried to still his breaths as the knife sliced through his skin, a sharp pain that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his head and hands. He could see the blood welling up even as his vision spotted and wavered. Skin from meat? Surely this man didn't intend to ... no. No, he said it himself.

Then he ... Caim struggled to find Farfarello's intentions. Why? What was he going to do, rend him apart? Rip out his internal organs? What?!

Skinning a live person, even a bound one, was a delicate sort of operation. A slip of the hand could cut too deep, scoring the muscle or worse. Farfarello had considerable experience with this particular art, however, so he was able to very, very carefully expose the muscles of Caim's abdomen, the bloody mess of skin coming away in one contiguous sheet. That was the hardest part, really--any idiot could cut off little bits of skin, but keeping it from tearing apart was much, much trickier.

"Almost the end now." The degree of blood loss Caim was suffering now would cause him to pass out fairly soon--no one lasted very long, when it came to being skinned.

He was --

NO!

AS the layers of skin came away, Caim's mouth opened as he tried to howl with pain again, the sensation of being skinned too much for him to bear. He wasn't some animal to be hunted and killed, rent apart for someone's use or sick enjoyment! Caim tried to break himself free even as pain wracked his body, the blood spilling down over his sides and staining the sheets bright red.

No! NO! I won't die like this! Not here, not now, not at this demon's hand!

"The funny thing about people is, we pretend like we're different, special. Blessed. But inside?" Farfarello lightly brushed his fingers over the wet, red planes of Caim's abs. "Just meat."

"That six pack you no doubt worked hard to sculpt? It's just a paired muscle, transected by bands of connective tissue. Rendered into its parts, it really doesn't mean anything." Farfarello put down the filleting knife and switched back to the box cutter, not wanting to waste the fine blade on anything he didn't need its precision for. Touching the tip of the box cutter blade to the exposed flesh just below Caim's solar plexus, Farfarello smiled. "And under here, well, guts look the same in every mammal, really, except for size."

The loss of blood, the exhaustion, and the pain were all becoming too much. Even as he continued to try and struggle, weakly, desperate for one last chance to drag himself out of the room and find someone to help him, damn it all, Caim could see the edges of his vision fading. His fingers were going numb, dulling the broken sensation; his feet were likewise.

It wouldn't be much longer now, something in the back of his head murmured even as his jaw opened to try and snarl for air, for fighting, for blood, for help. Soon he was going to pass out, and after that ...

I can't die yet! I can't die before finding her ... before getting out of here ...

It felt like forever since Farfarello had seen that look, that despairing look of realisation that men got when they were close to death. It was pure bliss, to see it again.

Farfarello's smile turned dreamy, the look in his eye one of ecstasy as he began to make what would be nearly the final cut.

With great delicacy and care, Farfarello drew his blade down the line of connective tissue separating the two sides of Caim's rectus abdominis, exposing just a hint of the vitals that lay beneath. "Have you eaten today, Caim? This could get extra messy, if you have."

With no further warning, Farfarello plunged a hand into the bleeding slit in Caim's muscle wall, viciously grabbing a slimy length of intestine and pulling it through, looking at it thoughtfully once it was out into the open air. "See? Meat, like any other."

It was the invasion of his body, the sudden rude and horrific entry into his stomach and the just as sudden removal of his insides that drew the final breath from Caim. It was terrifically painful in that instant, when his insides left his body. As he silently howled in pain, his mind a jumbled mess of rage and pain, he saw his own innards suspended by the madman's hand.

How often this sight had been presented to him, only with someone else's entrails spilling out onto the ground after he had cut them to pieces. But they had died quickly, almost mercifully, their skulls crushed or removed entirely.

His vision and pain slowly began to dull, fading into nothing. As his labored breathing was cut short by bursts of coughing inspired by spasms of pain, his struggling stopped entirely. There was no more energy to expend on fruitless tasks. He wasn't going to survive, wasn't going to get revenge, wasn't going to save her.

As the spark of life sputtered and died, Caim was left with only infallible despair (at his death, at being helpless when he died) and absolute, unending hate.

(For dying - at the one who killed him - for everything this place had done.)

For a long while, Farfarello just stayed where he was, smiling blissfully. Ah, it had been too long by far since he watched the life go out of a man's eyes. Well, eye, in this case. It had been a brief session, no time for the really intricate stuff, but still, it had been good.

Eventually though, his body started to complain loudly about the abuse it had taken. No pain, of course, but a lot of stiffness, and a distinctly unpleasant shortness of breath. Pity he couldn't do anything about that punctured lung, or the blood leaking into it. Night should end soon enough, though, and he'd be all patched up. Peachy.

In the meantime, since Roland hadn't returned yet, Farfarello decided to borrow his bed for a little rest.

[]

And William's moment of intuition was correct, as always. Walking down the hall, the doctor recognized the distinctive smell of blood. Nothing strange, especially on this night, but the doctor continued to follow the scent anyway, coming to a stop at the source. M40.

Hmm-ing to himself, William pushed the door open and stepped inside the room before coming to a stop. My.

He almost was unable to hold back an impressed whistle as he surveyed the damage. One man in pieces, clearly not the work of the vicious creatures outside, unless they were capable of tying them to beds. Intestines were scattered, blood smattering almost every surface, flesh scalped... Very creative. William turned his gaze to the second figure in the room, recognizing Fararello almost immediately.

"Enjoy yourself?"

Farfarello smiled, not opening his eye just yet. "Immensely." He looked like a man who had just had very good sex, which was more or less what he felt like, too. Never mind his injuries, he was a happy little psychopath.

"William, wasn't it? We met at breakfast one day." Farfarello made a point of never forgetting a voice, even if he wasn't necessarily good with faces. In the dark, voices were a lot more important.

"Correct," came William's response as he once again turned his attention to the disemboweled carcass. The damage was quite extensive, but even so, the body was still salvageable. It could possibly be used for a small variety of experiments... A smile came to the doctor's lips.

"Did you have any further use of this?"

Most men would question why anyone would have any use for a mutilated corpse, but not Farfarello. Hey, if William wanted to fuck with, or just fuck, a dead body, who was he to judge? "Not really. They only interest me while they can still feel."

A grin formed on the doctor's face. Wonderful. "Perfect, then I will take it off your hands." William paused for a moment, hmm-ing to himself once more. "But first, where would I be able to find medical supplies?" It was time to patch up the poor, poor man.

"There's a storage closet on the second floor that has a lot of that kind of stuff. Opposite end of the building from the patient rooms. Haven't been there myself, but there's a morgue and autopsy room up there too, apparently. Good luck making it there before night ends, though. Doctors' offices are on the first floor, but pretty useless unless you want smokes or booze."

Pity. He would have to improvise or find another form of experimentation to use instead, but it was be fairly messy. William shrugged to himself with a grin and began to untie the carcass from where it was tied.

"I'll have to find something else then, oh well."

"Whatever floats your boat. Hey, his other ear's on the floor somewhere, if you want it." Farfarello yawned, feeling quite tired after the night's exertion. Probably wasn't good for his jaw to be yawning wide like that, but it didn't cause him pain so he didn't really care.

NIGHTSHIFT 28: M31-M40 HALLWAY

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