Feeding Time

Chapter Eleven

"Are you ready for more?", Jake asks me. "Because there's a special surprise for afterwards today."
I lift my head slightly off of the pillow, exhaustion washing over me.
I have no idea how many days have passed, but I have been taken out of this room seven times and have killed ten more people in those sessions.
My urge has quieted down, but I play along so that he doesn't know that I'm not in the middle of an episode.
"More?", I ask in fake excitement, twitching inside the straitjacket. "More?"
"Yes." He smiles, trailing a finger down one cheek. "You get more. Ready to be a good girl?"
I nod my head, rolling into a sitting position to let Jake take off the jacket and toss it aside.
I follow him out of the room like a dog, padding down the cold hallway in bare feet, turning left to the now familiar room I call the Feeding Room.
Today, there are two people tied to chairs and gagged, but only one is next to the table of knives.
The other, a woman with dark brown hair and eyes.
With the face of my dead mother.
My eyes widen in shock, which Jake notices right away, grinning at me.
"I see you remember her now", he says. "You spare her, do you understand? She's only here to watch."
I nod my head and walk to the other prisoner, a young man with red hair and blue eyes, nervously twitching as I approach, letting out a quiet cry as I yank his gag down to his neck.
"Who are you people?", he spits at me. "What did I ever do to you?"
I shrug, checking to make sure that Jake is gone before crouching down on the floor in front of him.
"What's your name?", I ask, beginning with my questions.
"Andrew. Andrew Johnston", he answers. "Now you. Who are you?"
"Theresa Moore." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the woman's head snap up as she stares at me.
Andrew nods in her direction. "Who's she?"
"I don't know." I pause, then tilt my head. "You don't seem afraid. Most people are."
"It isn't your fault for what you've been doing", he says. "In fact, I'm guessing that you are just as much a prisoner as I am. Am I right?"
"Yes", I say quietly. "They use my urge to force me to kill when I don't want to."
"I'm also guessing I'm the one marked for death, huh."
"I'm really sorry", I reply, standing up. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't do this."
"I understand. Just do it."
I nod my head and select a knife, testing the blade like I always do by slicing my finger open, moaning as the voice awakens.
Kill-
"-Him", I mutter, holding the blade up to the man's throat. "Feed. Fed. Feed."
"Do it", Andrew tells me. "God will send me to heaven. He'll forgive you."
I don't move, fighting the urge, fighting not to kill.
I lose the battle, the voice taking over as I run the blade through his neck.
I watch the man die, remorse making my eyes fill up with tears as he goes limp, the knife clattering to the floor as I go back to the table.
I pick up the smallest blade and stroll over to my mother, my fingers twitching as I stop in front of her.
She looks at me with mixed feelings in her eyes. Shame, sadness. Worry. Love.
I don't speak as I untie to cloth from around her head and move on to the rope binding her to the chair, slicing the cord with the knife.
As soon as she sees that I'm not going to hurt her, she speaks.
"What happened to you? What are you?"
I say nothing, holding up my hand to offer her the blade.
"Theresa, answer me", she begs, standing. "Its me."
"Its a long story", I say hoarsely. "Its a good thing we have time."