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We get in one of the vehicles and begin to drive across the lot.  As we drive, I can’t see any sort of structures in the distance.  The lot becomes a road through trees and landscape.  I suppose that makes sense, since such a clearing might draw notice from a military helicopter, if there were no trees to conceal it.  It feels like at least five miles that we drive before we see a large building which appears to be of the same architecture and character of an old psychiatric hospital.  I expected more of a factory or warehouse type plant.  I ask him whether or not we should approach with more stealth, unsure why he has no concerns about being seen.  This is especially the case as I notice the sky is much paler, and I recognize that dawn is approaching.

He tells me that they know we are here and that my imagination is too active.  This is not like in the films in which we would need to infiltrate the facility, battling our way in and out to rescue Fay.  I say, “If it’s as simple as you say, then I have no use for you.  Neither does anyone else.”

“I know where Fay is.”

“So do I.  She’s in that building.”

“No she’s not.”

“Stop the vehicle.”

He stops quickly causing the glove box to open and some items to fall at my feet.  I get out, walking around to the driver’s side.  I intend to open the door, but it’s locked.  I knock on the window and tell him to get out.  The moment he obliges me, I punch him and he goes down hard.  He holds his jaw which is hanging a bit on the side I hit him.  Saliva and blood spill from his mouth.  I didn’t mean to break his jaw; I hadn’t known I was hitting him so hard.

He closes his eyes and that side of his face begins to move and shift, morphing and twisting.  I’m almost too disgusted to watch.  The movements of his facial structure begin to slide more gracefully, until everything seems to slip back into place.  He stands and the reality is, unlike I had thought, he is not afraid of me at all.  I believed I got the upper hand, but his knowledge gives him the power and the ability to manipulate and control me.  I only have questions, and he has all the answers.

He smirks and says, “I know exactly what you’re thinking.  You don’t trust me, but you don’t have much choice.”

“Is mercury the only thing that kills you too?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have to remember that.  Now take me to Fay.”  I return to the passenger side and sit.

As he positions himself into the drivers seat, closing the door, he asks, “Don’t you want to destroy this place?”

“How can I?”

“You’d be helpless without me, wouldn’t you?”

“It hurts you too, doesn’t it?  When you’re stabbed or beaten.  You feel pain, and it’s intense.  I know you do.  I also know I’m stronger than you.  You could never defend yourself against me.  So it doesn’t matter how much healing you’re capable of.  I can make you beg for mercy.  Ceaselessly.”

“Yes, torture.  That was a side effect of the experiments with you.  Fay’s mother and I were side projects strictly based on torture.  And then Fay was conceived.”

I want to know if he was tortured for the purposes of their study.  I want to know if my mother was as well, though she’s not really my mother.  I want to know if they will torture Fay.  But I’m done with questions.  The only answers I need are how to bring this place down and how to get Fay.  These small details are holding me back, I don’t need any more information.  Except one thing.

“I need to know.  If we can heal ourselves, and I just went through a physiological transformation during which all my injuries were healed.  Well, the surgery…”

“You’re still fixed and can’t procreate.  The way that is done is by implanting steel where reconnections would otherwise be made.  The cells become welded with the steel, so they are healed with a foreign substance, and blocked.”

“How do you have all this information and I don’t?  And how is it that you’re their henchman to kill me?”

“I’m not sure if you want to know that.”

“Yeah.  I do.”

“I’m no scientist.  I could never carry out the experiments or the chemistry behind any of this.  I’m more of a philosopher.  I ask a lot of what if’s.”

“You’re the one behind all of this aren’t you?  And my abilities intrigued you enough that you wanted to be your own test subject, so you would never have to die.”

He nods.

“But they killed you…back at the cabin…”

“You think that, because I wanted you to think that.”

The silence encompasses us as if we are in a time warp.  He knows my dilemma, if I should destroy him or still rely upon him for help.  I can’t rely on him for help if I don’t understand his motivations, as he has brought me back here, both directly and indirectly.  He is sick and perverted and I wonder if some of my memories of the sexual abuse are true or not.  When I was tied down on the table for the surgery, he and the women molested me and I know that is a true memory.  He claimed I couldn’t have an erection during the surgery but I wonder now if that was a lie.  His so called philosophical mind is distorted with deviance, and though his endeavors have a specific purpose, I believe he’s twisted and power hungry.  His power enables him to manipulate me mentally, emotionally, physically, and sexually.

“Is Fay being tortured?”

“She’s too young yet.”

“Is she being sexually abused.  Like I was.”

“She’s too young yet.”

“I was a child when it started.”

“You’re not human.  So it means nothing.  Fay is half human, half…whatever you are.”

“Is that a pathetic attempt to suggest you might have some ethics or something?”

“Doan–”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

A pause of sadness overcomes me.  Sadness and violation.  Perhaps it is how a child might feel, or an adult looking back upon childhood trauma.  But there is no time for self pity, no time for confusion.  There is nothing that sadness will do for me now but weaken me and hold me back.  I feel it inside of me, transforming into an immense, all consuming anger.  And as long as I am certain that Fay is not suffering currently, I know there is time to get this man to submit to me.  I need the upper hand.

I slowly reach across his lap, looking into his eyes, so he won’t look away from mine.  I reach the side of his seat and switch the lever to recline his seat back, and he falls into a horizontal position.  He cannot reach my speed though he struggles, as I break each of his arms in order to bind them with the seat belt.  He can heal them, but by the time he is finished healing, he’ll already be bound.  I get out and search the back of the vehicle but I can’t find any rope, so I go back to the passenger side and retrieve a knife that fell from glove box.  Removing it from its sheath, I read that it says stainless steel.  I cut the remaining seatbelts and reinforce his binding, including his ankles.  His arms have already healed.

I hold the knife to his forehead.  “So basically, if I pierce this knife between your hemispheres, the steel will block reconnections from being made, and I’ll have given you a lobotomy.”

He says nothing.

“Then you will live forever, like a dimwitted zombie, with a knife sticking out of your head, unless someone kills you with mercury, because you’ll be too stupid to know to kill yourself.”

He remains silent.

“Looks like you’re in a predicament.”  I say this and a desire for vengeance builds inside of me.  The thrill of a little sadism creeps into my mind.  It is so foreign and unlike the me I always thought I was, and I feel less human than I remember ever feeling before.

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