Obscura Fabula (Dark Shorts)

Anger Is a Brief Madness

Anger Is a Brief Madness

"Diiiieeeeeee! Bastard you diiiiieeee!" I screamed, shivering in frenzy as I stabbed repeatedly my boyfriend with a kitchen knife. And with every cry, I sunk the sharp blade in his flesh. "Die!" Stab. "Die!" Stab. "Die! Die! Die!" Stab. Stab. Stab. He was dead a long ago, yet I kept goring the knife with berserk wrath.

Blood gushed and spattered everywhere covering the floor, the walls, the knife, my face and clothes... everything. My hands trembled, soaked in the dark crimson liquid, shaking until I couldn't hold the knife any longer... everything went black... and I passed out.

I gulped the big chunks of raw meat, smiling to the sweet taste. Still licking my bloody fingers, I looked at the mess left all over my once crisp white kitchen. There were parts of him everywhere. The porcelain sink was stained red and the stainless steel appliances were covered in his guts. How I hated him, ruining everything even after dead!

Right in the moment when I was ready to slice another piece of him, the front door opened abruptly. Mayhem broke in my apartment when a dozen MP's made their way inside, some holding their laser rifles high while others pointed right to my face making me blind with the red and green beams.

"Throw that knife, lady! Stay where you are!" One of the MP's commanded. With no sense of fear or willing to fight, I slowly put the knife over the stainless steel counter top and a second after three guards were over me, tying my hands back with the electric cuffs.

One of the guards took the still beating hybrid-tech heart and put it in a plastic container with ice. It would happen sooner or later. Damned security-life technological replacement organ devices! No one can ever assassin in peace these days!

Three days after, I woke up to find myself locked in a white squared ten by ten feet cell. My eyes, still dry and soar after the long sleep induced by narcotics, scanned the confinement room, paying special attention to the texture on the walls. Why were they upholstered? I wasn't that idiot to crash my bones to death against the walls. Come on! I wasn't that crazy. I only murdered my ex-boyfriend, cut him in pieces with a kitchen knife and ate half of him...

That afternoon two bulk male nurses and a female examined me, took some notes and tied me to a stretcher with the magnetic cuffs. Those were the ones I hated the most. They made my extremities feel numb after a few minutes. The electric ones, although they gave me shocks with every abrupt movement, were not that bad. As they took me through the maze of corridors, mumbling unintelligible things, I was only able to stare at the white ceiling panels and hanging LED lamps so characteristic of mental institutions. That and the usual: a few poignant screams were heard and there to make it real.

Finally, we entered a big white paneled room -like every single room in this hellish place-. Once in there, one of the doctors gave me a tranquilizer. I don't know why, I was not in the mood to fight and I didn't plan to go anywhere, but I loved the dopes, they made me feel funny and alienated, not strong enough to make me sleep so I was aware of everything they were doing. The doctor wired my head and chest, connecting all those chords to a beeping monitor to my right. He tabbed on the keys of a virtual keyboard suspended by my feet while glimpsing at screen over my head. Two other doctors approached staring at me with curiosity, checking on my pulse and beaming a little flashlight into my eyes.

There was a loud beep that lasted a second and right after my mind went  blank. It felt like a thousand pins piercing my brain inside. My whole body convulsed first and then stiffened and in that moment I was out completely. Time was stopped and my thoughts were not mine anymore. A bunch of blurry images began taking form in my head, speeding back and forward like an old tuning TV.  It was like having some sort of déjà vu... No, wait! It was a memory... Only a memory... memories shaped like vivid pictures in a running diapositive. One pic after the other, like a movie, but this time it was running backwards. It was the movie of my life.

There were diffused images of my parents when I was a little girl. Oh. All the love and caring they gave me. I love my mom and dad so much.

"I love you Danäe... Sleep well." Mommy gave me a good night kiss like every night she did. I was a happy girl!

Another image... "Oh Daddy you're the best!" I hugged my dad effusively after he gave me a set of keys and then I hurried to open the driver's door of my new hybrid car. That year I had been accepted to study in Oxford. They felt so proud of me and I knew life couldn't be better.

Then THAT last memory... "What the hell were you doing with that bitch in my bed? You are a bastard! A fucking bastard!" I ran to the kitchen and gripped the biggest butcher knife I found. Stan came after me, still naked. Lucky whore she left before everything happened.

"Dänae, please let me explain!" His eyes glistened with fear, facing palms opened to defend himself.

I gave him no time to plead. Wrath blinded me. The first strike was in his chest. Stan eyes just went blank and then he plummeted hard on the wooden laminated floor, his head hit first. Like a raging beast I jumped on top of him and stabbed... stabbed... stabbed... "Die! Die! Die!"