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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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Monster XI

By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/16/13

With no concept of time, I figured they had been torturing Hope for at least two days. Her horrific screams were a constant for me. I don’t think it was constant abuse, but they marred my dreams as well. They made sure I heard her. And I did. I heard her. I heard her beg for her life. Eventually I heard her beg for her death.

Even after the first scream, when I told them I would kill for them, they continued to brutalize her. I wasn’t going anywhere. Escape wasn’t a thought in my mind. I would kill and stay in hell to stop her torture. They had won. I’m not sure if evil has a purpose, but I continued to wonder why they had her if they had me. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

Footsteps entered my room with fresh dark stains about his ragged filthy attire. They no longer chained me because they knew my desire to flee was gone. He yanked at my arm and dragged me to my feet with a mighty force. He lead me to the once secret door and with a swift motion, opened it and threw me to the ground.

Hope lay nude on the floor. A slight rise in her chest revealed life. Her body displayed open gashes and bruises, with a definite leg break. I now comprehended her hope for death. I took the rag of a blanket and covered her. She cried out, and fought against me before allowing me to cradle her shaking body.

“It’s almost over. I leave next week, and it will be all over,” I whispered in the bandaged area where her ear should have been.

“No,” she squeaked out. “Once you are done, I will then become you.”

© 2013 Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster X

By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/13/13

How was I going to break myself?  This question was a constant, every time I made it to the top of the stairwell.  I guess the location was my answer, but had yet to trigger my brain to find the courage.  The courage it would take to hurl myself down the 14 cement steps.  The thought always danced through my mind, but I didn’t want to go back to my multi-daily visits with Syringe.

They knew I was getting better.  Upon return to my room each time, they immediately chained me to a steel rod, which ran from ceiling to floor. When it was time to sleep, the bed restraints were enforced. Maybe this is why I hadn’t heard from Hope.  Maybe she was unable to get to the wall.  I needed to know if she was still alive.  Were they training her?  Was she part of this horrendous plan of revenge too?  She had to be near for me to hear her through the wall, but the hallway outside gave no hints to any other rooms.

I walked slowly up and down the hall.  I don’t know how long they gave me, but this was part of my routine.  Warm up and then I jogged back and forth.  My eyes scrutinized the wall to find some clue that I wasn’t alone.  Then I saw it.  Although the door was disguised to match the stone wall, I could make out the frame.  It gave itself away at the bottom where it failed to completely reach the floor.

I put my mouth to the small crack, “Are you in there? Can you hear me?” I screamed. There was rattling of restraints.  “Make another sound if you hear me.”  A consistent chain rattling followed.

Before the next question left my mouth, the left side of my face exploded.  Footsteps was pounding my body as I fought to escape back to my open door.  I ran through my doorway only to plow into Maniacal, who threw me down on my bed.  His hand closed around my neck before I could catch my breath.

“I will torture you to death.  You know that don’t you?  I thought you knew to be a good girl.  I thought with all the nice treatment and food you would show some sort of appreciation.  The only thing you did by finding yourself a little friend is bring her torture.  She will pay for your curiosity.”  He gave me a shove as he released my throat and signaled Footsteps.

“No please.  I’m sorry.  I do appreciate you.  Don’t hurt her please.  I’m sorry,” I begged.

“I can’t hurt you precious.  You are too valuable to me right now.  She’s the second phase.  You’re the first.”  Maniacal closed and locked the door behind him.  I was not restrained, but it didn’t matter.  I crumbled as I heard Hope scream.

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Monster IX

By: Mia L. Hazlett
3/22/13

What did it mean to have control of my body? Was it actual physical control? Or was it the ability to do with my body what I wanted?  I didn’t want to do what they were telling me to do.  I was somehow fighting against the healing of my body.  Being able to walk, although my only means of escape, could also prove my detriment.  Reinjuring my ankles lingered in my thoughts, but I wrestled with lengthening my stay in hell.

They allowed me access to the stairs at the end of the dark hallways.  Some sort of informal training for my controlled release.  A door with a heavy padlock and chain guarded the top of the staircase.  I’m sure it used a form of video as backup.

With only one door in the hallway, I seemed to hold the only reservation, but Hope had to be close.  Although I hadn’t heard from her in days, there was the familiar sound of restraints against a wire cot.  They must have restrained her and she couldn’t get to her wall.  Or maybe her ankles had met the same fate mine had and she was now receiving visits from Syringe.

Footsteps arrived with my food.  Apparently while dwelling so close to the last stop in hell, Thanksgiving had arrived.  He brought two plates mounded with food I had forgotten existed.

“We need you to fatten up a bit, put your weight back on,” Maniacal appeared and spoke from the doorway.  “The time is drawing near and we can’t have you fail, just because you’re hungry. Be a good girl and eat up.”

I savagely devoured all I could.  I don’t think I used my hands as I felt my tongue brush against the plate at times.  Before I could see the bottom of the second plate, my body rejected the first meal.  My stomach had held nothing more than a red concoction and an occasional serving from Syringe.

I couldn’t control my vomiting, but I noticed my ribs had healed.  There was no pain in the heaving as before.  I can’t get well.  I had to take control of my body and break it again.

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Monster VIII

By: Mia L. Hazlett
3/20/13

“AAAAHHH,” I screamed in pain as Footsteps dragged me to a standing position.

My friend, Syringe, hadn’t come to visit me in…well…long enough for me to be in pain for hours…days…weeks…
Ever since I had come to this dreaded dungeon of horror, standing had not happened. I hadn’t thought about my legs, never mind using them. As he held me upright, I realized my ankles were not the only things Syringe was nursing. There were constant darting pains in my back. I had expected pure waste to engulf my nakedness, but my vertical stance proved me wrong. At some point, someone had washed me.

Footsteps let go of me, which sent me crashing to the floor. My legs had forgotten their function. They had not had to support me since I came here. “UP!” he shouted at me. “UP!” with a quick snatch of my arm I was upright. I wobbled under the excruciating pain. “WALK!” he shouted at me again. His insanity was maddening. Although there was no longer swelling in my ankles, their obvious purple hue should have told their own story. “WALK!” He grabbed my wrists and pulled me towards him, forcing my wrenching first steps. “AAAAHHH!” I screamed with my second.

Maniacal appeared behind Footsteps, “There you go. You didn’t think we brought you here to rot away did you? You have to get those legs of yours nice and strong again. You have a lot of work to do. You were a bad girl and now you have to make right.”

He turned me around and tore something from my back. “Ah, your sores have healed nicely. How are those ribs of yours?” He came inches from my face, “You’re mine. Don’t get any ideas. I own you for the rest of your life. You do anything I don’t like, well, then you’re his,” he turned to a smiling Footsteps who placed his hand down his pants.

They left and I collapsed to the floor. I dragged myself to the wiry cot and I heard Hope again. “Hello. Hello. Is anyone there?” It was almost a whisper, but so crystal clear. “I know you’re here. I hear you cry out at night. Where are you?”

“I..I..I’m here. I just don’t know where here is. Or where your ‘here’ is. Who are you? I think I heard you say my name the last time. Do you know where we are?” I didn’t want to stop talking to Hope. I didn’t want Hope to leave me again.

“They’re coming. I hear them. Whatever you do, don’t tell them anything. They don’t know anything. Remember that. They know nothing. But we know everything.” Hope disappeared to the sound of Footsteps returning.

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Macy VII

By: Mia L. Hazlett

5/14/2012

Work was absolutely impossible.  Knowing I had a box full of my ancestry waiting at home made me appreciate the long weekend that was now upon me.  I had told my friends I was going away for the weekend, so I could have uninterrupted alone time with my grandmother.  Dead or not, this was the closest we had ever been.  I needed to hear her story.  I wanted to understand why she spent my lifetime showing her love for me through hate.

There was an inner conflict warring inside me at the same time.  Should I include my mother in unraveling the mystery of her mother?  We both knew who she was, but I guess in life it means a whole lot more to find out why people are the way they are.  But because I was only a few letters in, I decided to wait on sharing with my mother.  I felt a need to protect her, just as she had spent her life protecting me as best she could.  There was a part of me that felt as though my grandmother was apologizing to my mother through me.  She knew I told my mother everything,  Maybe she wrote these letters to my mother so I would tell her, rather than for her to have to read them by herself.  Because if my mother had received them, she would never share any of these with anyone.

I usually have my bottle of Riesling and a good book as I cozy under my sheets on a Friday night.  But wine didn’t compliment the mood to the #4 envelope that sat next to my pillow.  I opted for a cup of decaf coffee.

Well Macy,

Even dough Mz Suzana dun luvd me and Moma, we dun stoped wurkin’ fo her not to much aftr dat der lunch.  Sho was sad fo me and Mz Mary.  Sho was sad.  Wuznt jus bout money now and eatin.  It wuz jus hard to find good white folk to wurk fo bak den.  Moma didn’t want wurk fo nobody dat had manee boyz.  ‘Cuz aftr skool I wood come on and meet her at her job.  Even dough I wuz yung, she dun sed my bodee parts wur reel ladeelike. We dun had us good luk wit Mz Suzana, but not manee wite ladeez wuz like her.  Lots ov dem dun hated culurzds. Don’t reelee no how it wuz dat Mz Suzana culd say stuff to her son, cuz most timez da white women culd not say nuttin in her house.  So Moma wuz scurd a boy or da man in da house wood want to touch my bodee.  After wut Mz. Suzanaz boy dun did to me, I didnt never want no boy on top me like dat again.  

Moma dun found uz a house wit a reel mean ole ladee, but she wuz alwayz in her room.  Her dotter wuz sumpin reel nice Macy.  Sumpin reel nice.  I dun liked Mz. Bell reel good.  She pay Moma eight moneez a week Macy.  We ain’t dun never made dat type der money.  Mz. Suzana onlee pay Moma five moneez a week and gave us food and da clothes, but now Mz Bell do dat and mo moneez.  Mz Bell have hurself two sonz.  They wuz like da sun an da dark.  Now here me Macy.  HERE ME REEL GOOD.  I never dun looked any ov doze boyz in der faces or eyez, but they dun said I did.  

I dun walkd to go meet Moma one day after school.  Dats wut I wuz suppozed to do.  Meet moma at Mz Bells house.  I wood do a da sweepin dat needed to be dun.  When I dun got der I walked round da house to da back.  Now my clothez wuz still small cuz Mz Mary wuz much biger than me.  But I wuz a bit biger than Mz Bell.  Dats da clothez I wuz gettin.  Mz Bells old old clothz.  Mama sed to preciate all we got an wear dem if I wuz gonna be der.  Her shirt fit me reel tight cross my growin’ chest.  Moma sed my bodee parts wuz growin sumpin wild.  I wuz jus reel quiet when she wood talk like dat.  I dun come round dat house and Mz Bells bad son wuz sitin’ on a stump with a long twig in hiz hand.  He looked at me sumpin rong Macy.  He looked sumpin rong.  I jus went to da back door and der wuzn’t no way da door wood open.  He started laffin’ sumpin rong.  He told me wuzn’t no one home.  

I dun turned to walk down da path I had come round to, but he wuz in my way.  He got reel close like to me and sed he dun seen me lookin’ at him.  I told him I hadn’t been lookin’ at nobuddy.  He dun slapped me sumpin’ hard in my face for sassin him.  Dats wut he sed Macy, I dun sassed him.  He took dat twig and dun poked my chest.  He kept on pokin and tole me to take my shirt off.  I dun sed no.  I new wut he wuz gonna do.  But Macy wuznt no boy gonna be on top me like Mz Suzanas son gain.  Not never.  He dun push me and wit all my power, I dun push dat boy rite on back to the ground.  Den I dun run round dat house and he dun cot up wit me and grabbed and ripped my shirt clear off.  I didn’t have no things on under it, so chest wuz showin’.  Moma told me only my husband wuz suppoze to see me like dat.  But I didn’t care.  I kept runnin’.  

I felt him grab my sholeder and push me.  I don’t know wut hapend, cuz I woke up in Mz Bellz house in da back room on a cot.  My hed dun hurt sumpin’ awful and I wuz lookin’ at Mz Bellz mean moma.  I think she wuz happy wuzn’t dead cause she started prayin sumpin.  Mz Bell came runin on nex to her moma an den I saw Moma.  She was cryin’ wen she dun grabbed and hugged me sumpin tite.  It wuz a bit odd cuz Mz Bellz mean moma wuz bein reel nise to me and rubbin my hed. 

Afder dat der day, I wuznt loud to go round der no more.  Mz Bell dun taked cared ov uz reel nise, but hur moma wuz reel meen like.  She dun hated uz.  I never did see dat son ov herz again.  Sed he went to liv wit sum hiz momas people dat lived sumwhere in a difrent state.  To munts later, my Moma told me why.  She dun told me everything dat dun happend dat day wit Mz Bellz son.  Don’t member much bout da storee, but I new my bodee parts done got me to have a babee inside me.  Yes Macy.  Dat is why Mz Bellz son had to go far away.  He dun gave me a babee dat der day wen I dun hit me hed.

 

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