Category Archives: violence

Monster XX

Monster XX
By: Mia L. Hazlett
2/22/15

I had no recollection of my trip, but I was back at the beginning of my journey. I looked at the familiar dungeon cell. Cleaning measures had been taken. Nothing extensive, but there was a scent of bleach rather than the stench of death.

Hope instantly popped into my head. I pounded on the concrete wall. Instead of the reciprocated response, my door opened. A woman’s form filled the doorway, but I didn’t recognize her. I assumed it was Hope, but I had only seen her emaciated and bloodied. I stood as she stepped inside the doorway. As we embraced, I knew it was her.

The door closed behind us. We slid down the wall with our hands entwined. We communicated with our silence. There is nothing we could say. Our shared captivity and torture was our irreversible bond. Our endurance in this underground hell was our secret.

She put her head on my shoulder and I wept. Since I had come here a year or years ago, there had been no endearing touching. I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke, we were both slumped on the floor. I tried to turn my head, but the painful ache hurt too much. Hope shifted and blinked her eyes open. In the dim light, I finally noticed the walls. They painted them white. The entire room was white. Floor. Ceiling. Walls. All white. There were no more stains of my existence.

I heard keys. The door opened. Maniacal stepped in. He sat down. Hope sat up. He leaned in. We leaned in.

“Two is better than one.”

We leaned back. He leaned back. He stood up. The door opened. I heard keys. The door locked.

Copyright © 2015 Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XIX

Monster XIX
By: Mia L. Hazlett
11/30/14

The box fell apart around me. Blinded by the sudden bright light, I wasn’t able to tell who pushed me off the table, but I was familiar with the feeling of smashing against a floor. Before I could get to my knees, the wind was knocked out of me. There was a duet of laughter as my eyes focused on a blur of both Maniacal and the Doctor.

As the air refilled my lungs I caught sight of one of the boards from my coffin. It wasn’t so much the board as it was the nail sticking out of it. Footsteps neared me and I lunged towards the board. In one sweeping motion, I grabbed the board and swung it around and caught Footsteps in the forearm. The board stayed in his arm as he grabbed my foot. I turned my body and gripped the board and gave it a twist with all my might. He hollered and shot upright as blood poured from his open wound.

I grabbed the board and was quickly on my feet. Before Footsteps had time to recover, I rushed him with the board across his face. I did my best to pull and twist the board, so the impaled nail would do irreparable damage. His howl only encouraged me. Finally, the cries of pain were coming from him and not me.

He lost his balance and fell over the chair behind him. It wasn’t me, but the adrenaline within me, that had me ponce on his chest and beat his already bloodied face with the board. His fist caught me in my jaw, but I still fought him. I had a fistful of his hair and repeatedly slammed his head into the concrete floor. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t losing. I was winning.

I came out of my daze and there was applause. I sat on Footsteps’ chest and he was motionless. At his head stood Maniacal. He continued to clap his hands. My hands wore the blood of my victim. I tried to stand, but toppled backwards and landed on my ass. The Doctor came over and did that thing with his two fingers on Footsteps’ neck to see if he was alive. He shook his head no, and left the room.

Maniacal came towards me and knelt inches away. “Well done. You’re one of us now.”

I couldn’t be one of them. I couldn’t be. I was a survivalist, not a heartless killer. It was my life or his. But as I sat watching Footsteps’ bloodied body, all a result of my rage, I thought to myself, I am a heartless killer.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XVII

Monster XVII
By: Mia L. Hazlett
10/11/14

I hoped the three rats were the only ones. My life or theirs. After squishing one between my foot and the bottom of this miserable coffin, I squeezed two to death in my hands. I wasn’t sure if I was becoming a heartless killer or if the instinct of survival prevailed. Either way, I was alive and they were dead. I would never be Footsteps, so I convinced myself it was survival.

Obviously, I had failed at my attempted murder. Or had I? Maybe Footsteps was dead and Maniacal had tracked me with the Doctor. It didn’t matter. I was stuck underground with dead rats. I didn’t remember what happened from the car to a rat biting my foot. I knew I had a scalpel and tried to cut Footstep’s neck. Maybe I was becoming a heartless killer. Slicing a person’s neck had to fall somewhere in the heartless category. But he was my kidnapper, so I was going to keep myself in the survivalist category.

The real question, how long had I been here? Eventually I would run out of oxygen. Had they put me through all of this just to bury me alive with rats? Months, maybe a year of torture, just to become cake leftovers? Knowing how long I had been here didn’t matter, I didn’t feel suffocated. My breathing came easy. That was more worrisome. Maybe they were keeping me alive to face the consequences. I could handle myself with the rats. They were just looking to survive like me. Survivalist against survivalist. But if they were keeping me alive to go against Footsteps, if he was still alive, that was much different. It wasn’t about heartless killer against survivalist. It was about a heartless killer seeking revenge. I should have let the rats eat me alive. No one survived revenge.

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Monster XVI

Monster XVI
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/25/14

I’ve never hurt someone physically. I’ve physically hurt. I’ve definitely emotionally hurt, and maybe even reciprocated. But intentionally inflicting pain on someone was not my thing. Somehow it was now my thing. Footsteps made it my thing.

To Footsteps, this was like making a cake. Preheat oven. Prepare table. Get mixing bowls, measuring cups and spoons, and ingredients. Gag, check. Restraints, check. Victim, check. In one bowl mix half the ingredients, in the other, mix the remainder. Situate victim just right on table, gag, and apply restraints. Blend ingredients in large bowl and stir for 3-5 minutes. Remove blind fold and tape open victim’s eyes. Allow mix to sit 2-3 minutes. Apply 3-5 bleach drops to each eye and allow to sit for 2-3 minutes. Pour mix into pan and place in oven for 35-40 minutes or until cake is done. Apply scalpel slices to victim’s naked body and individually duct tape 35-40 rats over slices. When cake is done, allow to cool before eating. When the rats are done, your victim should be dead.

I prayed for him to die of fear. He didn’t. I prayed for him to stop watching me. His eyes were taped open. I prayed to go deaf. I heard each muffled scream through his gag. I prayed for the torture to end, the rats ate him alive. I prayed for my own death. I realized, God had put my prayers on mute.

I stood outside and Footsteps met me with a huge duffel bag. We were in an unlit parking lot of some abandoned building. He weighted the duffel bag evenly over my shoulders. I realized I was carrying our cake, the leftovers anyways. The bag outweighed me, but I managed to keep up with Footsteps as I followed him through the dark. I heaved the bag into the trunk of the car on top of some shovels.

I began to cry in the back of the car. Footsteps started the car and chuckled at my tears. He turned the car around and I lunged forward, grabbed his forehead back, and sliced across his neck with the scalpel I had hidden up my sleeve. The car accelerated and slammed into the building.

When I opened my eyes, I was in complete darkness. I wasn’t in restraints, but my body was constricted. I tasted dirt and felt wood all around me. I heard a familiar squeaking and then felt a sharp pain on my foot. Place in coffin and bury with rats for 3-4 days or until girl dies. I was not going to be cake leftovers.

Copyright ©2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XV

Monster XV
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/6/14

This was like a stakeout, except we weren’t cops. Instead, we were more like stalkers. Professional stalkers. While they stalked the gentleman in the house, I stalked the neighborhood. They kept me blindfolded for the car ride, but we always ended up on the same street. Unfortunately, it was always nighttime, so I couldn’t see the street sign at the corner.

We arrived at 10 pm every night. Within minutes, a car would pull into the driveway. Three weeks and the same thing. A gentleman would get out and go inside. The lights would stay on for about two hours. They would appear again at about 6 am. By 8 am, the driver’s seat was occupied again. With daylight, my blindfold returned. Removal of it always put us in the same parking lot behind the same building. Unfortunately, it was non-distinct and offered no details of my location.

Tonight was different. When they took my blindfold off, it was dusk. The sun hadn’t completely gone down. We were at the same house, but sitting in a different location. There was no way to look at the street sign without being obvious. The Doctor and Footsteps sat in the front, while I sat in the back of the van with my hands zip-tied behind my back. We were never in the same vehicle while occupying the on-street parking road.

But like I said, tonight was different. Footsteps turned around and cut my zip-tie off. It didn’t matter how many times we had come here, I didn’t know where I was. They did. Running to nowhere would be stupid. Even if I could shake them, GPS would tattle on me.

Again, tonight was different. After being cut free, I was no longer a stalker. I was now a home intruder. I had no watch, but I assumed it was a little after 10 pm. I heard the door open. Keys were thrown on a counter or something. I heard a refrigerator door open then close. The television went on and then a ringtone was quickly stifled. There was no answer, so I assumed he ignored the call.

Now I waited for him to go to sleep. With my sliver view from the closet, there was only a glow from the television. It could have been an hour, or maybe two. I never thought stalking could be so tiring. My right leg began to cramp. Moving was not an option. My tight environment did not allow for it. Still there was the television, but now heavy breathing.

If hope worked, he was asleep. If hope worked, I wouldn’t have to kill him. If hope worked, tonight I could escape. If hope worked, they would never find me again. If hope worked, Hope would live too. I crept out of the stalking cover and entered the hallway. There was no hope. Footsteps was in the hallway too.
© Copyright 2014 – Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XIV

Monster XIV
By: Mia L. Hazlett
8/19/14

They only allowed me to explore the top floor of my prison. I really didn’t know where I was.  There were no windows. It had the layout of a small hotel, except everything was white.  I knew I was upstairs because of the small stairwell at the end of the bleached hallway.  No stairs went up, but there were at least three, maybe four flights, which went down.

I didn’t explore the hallways as a leisurely stroll.  Over the past, I’ll guess and say two weeks, I carried an extremely large heavy duffel bag on my shoulders.  Every two days they added more weights.  They started me heavy, and I could safely say it now exceeded my own weight.

I came into the hallway the next morning for my routine weight walk.  The difference this time, the bag was alive.  The noise was muffled, but my bag now hopped and moved across the floor.  Maniacal ordered me to pick it up and begin my routine.  I obeyed. Whatever it was calmed as I picked it up.  Two steps in- it went frantic.  I was ordered not only not to drop it, but to also run.  Again, I obeyed- until I dropped it.

It only took seconds to pick it up again, but now it was wild. My routine consisted of down the hall and back twenty times.  I was up to thirty-five right now, and sweat stung my eyes.  My momentum was gone and my bag had no sign of life.  At fifty he let me stop. I wanted to drop the bag, but I remembered it was once alive.

Footsteps came and opened the bag.  The pit bull took small breathes.  It was a dog, but when I looked in its eyes, I recognized that fear.  I had seen that fear in Hope’s eyes.  They taped around his muzzle and he was probably close to suffocating.  Footsteps walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door to the small stairwell. Maniacal cut the tape off his muzzle as a sat on the floor in front of them. Exhaustion possessed every cell of my body.

I was ordered to go to Footsteps.  Still out of breath and feet from the stairwell, I heard Maniacal yell, “Attack”, and turned to see the pit bull running at me.  I don’t know how I made it down the first flight of stairs, but as I reached the third, pit bull was closing the gap.  There were two more flights coming at me fast as skipped stairs and still maintained my speed and balance.   I heard a yelp as he lost his balance and fell down the flight directly behind me.

Fear and adrenaline battled inside me for the next two seconds as I ran out of stairs and slammed into the cement wall.  Before I could recover, there was a loud blast and a final yelp. Footsteps appeared with a gun and ordered us back upstairs. I carried the dog up five flights of stairs and collapsed on my bed.

Before I fell asleep, Maniacal spoke into his phone while looking at me, “She’s ready.”

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Monster XII

By: Mia L. Hazlett
1/10/14

Fear was stifling. It was one thing to fear for yourself, but another when someone else’s life depended on yours. I didn’t know who Hope was, but since we had stayed together over the past week, our commonality became this torturous hell pit. They no longer hurt either one of us. Dr. Guy came in and re-broke her leg and made a makeshift cast. For some reason I assumed he was a doctor because he set her leg on a board and tied it in place with rags, and administered some sort of pain killer with a needle. This was everything our captors had done, less setting the leg, but I guess since he didn’t appear to possess the torture gene, he was a doctor to me.

My strength was restored, but they had overlooked one detail that now postponed our scheduled rendezvous, my sight. There was a dim glow that always illuminated the darkest corners. For whatever period of time I had been here, my eyes had adjusted. But going outside in the sunlight, where they had taken me the past two days, caused debilitating migraines.

Over the past week, the light was constant in Hell. The wattage was increased daily. Today there was no headache. I was surprised how light lessened my fear. In my mind we were in some tragic lost dungeon, and although the light didn’t change our circumstances, I could now see who was coming. Our torturers were simply men. I did my best to wipe away old blood stains. I wasn’t sure my reasoning. It wasn’t to make this home, nor could I ever erase this experience from my mind, but it just made the present tolerable.

My eyes opened to Maniacal and Footsteps standing over me. Hope had her mouth taped and Dr. Guy’s hands were between her thighs. Her eyes spoke the pain her muffled screams could not relay. Maniacal looked down, “It’s time. Follow us.” For the first time in the light, my fear returned, but looking at Hope, I followed.
©2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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