D.I.D.

• Joshua Thomas, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2011

The steel was cold on my shirtless back as I laid on the table, leather straps far stronger than I holding me down, restraining my limbs. Above me was a bright light, shining down on my impassive face as I tried to remain brave. The silence in the room was broken by a chuckle. My eyes darted to the source; him.

He stepped forward, into the light, and I saw his face. The face that had haunted me for years. Lobo.
“And here you are, at the end of our journey, strapped to a table, awaiting torture,” he sneered; those glowing grey-blue eyes shining with a malicious glee that I was almost surprised hadn’t melted my own.
“You’ve feared this place for a long time, haven’t you? You’d heard stories, whispers, and rumours of its reputation as the most unrelenting containment the world has seen. I know. I always know.”
He walked around the side of the cool steel table, examining the room with a small smile on his face. He turned to look at the door, chuckled yet again and turned back to me, his face twisted into a smirk that betrayed the sheer happiness he felt at his surroundings.
“But for me, it’s here that I’m in my element. It’s here that I feel at home! The screaming, pleading, laughing of the others locked away in here are a cacophonous MUSIC to my ears! And now we’re here, finally. It begins! The torture! The screaming I’ve been dying to hear since we met! I cannot wait to see the look on your face when the first bit of agony hits you. It’ll be wondrous. Beautiful. Picturesque.” He twirled and danced as he confessed his desire, while I strained to keep my face neutral. I must have shown some kind of emotion, though, because when he next looked at me, the smirk became a euphoric grin.

“You’re terrified. You try to hide it under that mask of false bravery, but I know. I always know. Your heart is beating a trillion times a second, your brain’s screaming to try and escape, even though you know you can’t. You’re breathing quicker, your eyes darting around the room, trying to find something, ANYTHING to help you. Fear. All-encapturing, maddening FEAR. Admit it. ADMIT IT!” He yelled the last two words, but I kept my face blank. He glared at me, the joy gone from his face.
“What’s the fun if you won’t at least show that fear?” He hissed, his face inches from my own. Before he could say anything else, however, the single door in the room opened, two people in white coats walking in, one wearing a sickeningly sweet smile, the other examining a clipboard. Lobo had vanished.
“Okay, dear, we’re going to begin the treatment now,” she simpered through her “pleasant” smile. I could hear the cackling of Lobo echoing through the room as the electricity surged through my body, as my screams echoed through the asylum.