???
The next day, the boy’s struggles are over, and Jane’s work has only just begun. He spent the last twenty-four hours being tortured for Jane’s art.
Once, Jane spoke to me about her logic behind her projects.
“Fear and pain, Branson. That is what my beautiful artwork requires to be truly complete, truly amazing.”
She continued on to tell me how the aura of pain stays with the pieces of the people left behind. That always stuck with me. ‘Aura of Pain’.
I didn’t comment but wondered what type of aura I would leave behind, if my pain would leave a blackened stain, my only footprint on this miserable earth.
The familiar smell of blood, organs, and shit washes over me but I ignore them, still staring at the second cage. When Jane takes a break to remove the unneeded body parts, I decide to risk it and ask.
“What’s the other cage for, Jane?” She turns to me, obviously surprised that I would dare ask a question.
“You’ll see,” she replies in the singsong voice I hate so much. Her smile chills me to my core. Whatever it is, it won’t be good. I lean back and close my eyes.
A piercing noise startles me awake and I open my eyes to see a familiar metal bin that Jane uses for ‘garbage’ being dragged across the floor by Bud. I know there is some kind of furnace somewhere on the property, but I’ve never seen it.
Groaning, I sit up and try to work some of the kinks out of my neck. This is a sign she is almost done. A sign I will be out of here soon. I hold back my sigh of relief as I watch Bud leave, turning my attention back to Jane.
Jane has her back to me as she puts what must be the finishing touches on her project. It’s taken about three days this time and, as crappy as it is, I look forward to going back to my room where I can at least stand properly and lay my body out mostly flat.
Thalassemia. Thiamine Deficiency. Thoracic Outlet Syndrome. Thigh. Throat.
“Perfect!” Jane finally exclaims, causing me to lean forward in anticipation of being shown the latest grotesque statue before being led down the gallery. Jane removes her apron and hangs it in its usual spot before turning towards the door. Bud or I typically place finished pieces for her in a pre-designated spot, as they are often too heavy for her to lift on her own.
Jane walks towards the door, and a small cry escapes my lips. Did she forget about me? She always lets me out to see before she leaves.
“Hey, Jane,” I croak, “Can I see your piece?”
Hope fills me that she has just forgotten and my request will inspire her to show it off and let me out.
She smirks at me and winks before turning off the lights and closing the door. The blackness is complete, no window or hint of light from anywhere. This has never happened before.
New is never good in this place.
???
Time seems to be crawling, and it’s hard to tell the passing of it, but I think it’s been at least a day since she left me here. The change in routine has me anxious. Fear is something I’ve long since grown numb to in this place, so feeling it now is unfamiliar and uncomfortable. I wonder if I’m being punished and think back to the last few days to see if I can think of anything that might warrant it, in Jane’s mind, anyway. My mind comes up blank, though, and I’m left wondering.
It’s probably been four days since I’ve eaten and almost twenty-four hours since I’ve been given any water, and my body is screaming for sustenance. There is an aluminum bucket in the corner of my cage, but I haven't gotten that desperate yet. I am pretty used to going without, after all.
Finally, the door opens, and I am blinded by the lights as they flick on. Bud walks in and grabs the project. I catch a glimpse through watering eyes and bile lifts in my throat. Are those his balls? I shake my head, eager to erase the image from my mind.
“Hey, Bud, what's going on?” I rasp, “Why am I still in here?”
Ignoring me, Bud leaves the room with the project in tow. The lights are left on this time and I’m not sure if the view of the morbid workshop is better or worse than the blackness. A second later Bud returns and, much to my delight, goes to open the cage. Before I can get too excited, he tosses a bowl of slop and a water bottle in with me and slams the door closed.
Apparently, this is my new room.