Corinne

A long time ago, vikings had a torture method. They ripped open the skin on your back and broke your ribs backwards. They said it resembled bloodied angel wings protruding from your spine. They then pulled your lungs out of your body and draped them from your sides, until you died, slowly of blood loss or suffocation, whichever came first. A death like this would have been less painful.

I was left at the mercy of Henri’s sword. I sat there on my knees, as the iron grazed my neck. He was brainwashed, not only did I know by the Manipulator glaring at us from the corner, but I could see it in his eyes. This was torture for him too. Henri told me some time ago that he loved me more than anyone else, everything else, that he would never hurt me, and that he would never go back on his promises. He had none of that now. Three days he has spent, stuck in his head while the Manipulator utilized his strength, and now he will be used one last time, in the duration of my life at least.

He inhales a deep breath with a glimpse of sadness behind his eyes, and I prepare for death. He reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out something, but he swung his blade before I could react. You can survive and feel emotion and pain for three seconds after being decapitated. The last three seconds of my life were nothing less than the worst three seconds of my life. He pulled out a gun, and put a bullet through his head.

Henri

Corinne’s blood bleeds scarlet on the floor. I see it like it has already been done. My blade hangs hastily at her neck as the Manipulator’s voice thrums softly in my ear. “Kill her. Kill her. KILL HER!” She tried to find a… motivating tone. I blocked out her voice by replaying memories of Corinne and I in my head. Corinne’s laugh, our vacations together, her eyes looking into mine. I am now deprived of that. I don’t get that love anymore, I only see longing in her eyes, searching for any sign of me left, but the Manipulator has a hold on me. I exhale, a deep breathe of relent, for her grip on my mind is far too strong. As my eyes glaze over, I feel my arm swing, and strike, and kill. As soon as the blade connects to skin, my mind is released and I quickly pull my hands to my holster just as tears begin coming to my eyes. If there is an afterlife I will be reunited with her. If not, silence is better than this miserable life without her. I cocked the gun and then continued to pull the trigger as I watched her eyes roll back in her head. I knew my blood would forever decorate these stone-white walls of the palace, as hers would stain the quartz floor. Would they paint the ceiling to match? I am sure the Manipulator’s blood would do quite nicely as a scarlet paint.

The Manipulator

Not long had I known my abilities, but they knew me well and I quickly learned how to use them. This would be my favorite use of my powers by far. Henri was young, rich, and gorgeous, Corinne was solely a farmgirl. She was simply no match for him. The moment I laid eyes on him, I wanted him. I was of a family of wealth and my hair was well kept and my dresses were custom made with extravagant and expensive silks. Like an eel, my ability slipped into his mind. For three days I had set him about rummaging through her things and destroying her house, but she still loved him. Their love story made me exceedingly jealous. Slaughter was not the response I expected to utilize, but envy has strong influences.

I squinted my eyes, utilizing my powers, telling him what to do. His eyes watered as I desperately tried to convince him to kill her, slash her, get rid of her. My heart exploded with joy just as soon as her thick blood puddled on the stone tile. As I released my grip on his mind to run to Henri, he drew a gun from his side to kill me. He pulled the gun towards his own head and released the trigger and a bullet pierced through his head. My skin grew pale as his blood splattered the walls. I would be sick if it were not for me manipulating my own mind, telling myself to stop.

I needed a new plan. So I went to the corner of the palace, grabbed a rope hanging near a tapestry, tied it to my neck, pulled the best I could. My eyes dimmed, not because of this poor attempt at suicide, but because my own mind willed me to do it. My ability, commiting the best kind of mutiny.

I blink my tired eyes open. As I fumble my hand around the table for my glasses, I accidentally turn on the television. It begins blaring about something my dormant mind is yet to be capable of understanding. I finally find my glasses and read the headlines. The newscasters exclaim wild ideas.

“New disease, nicknamed ‘Devil’s Disease’ spreading like wildfire. ”

“Hellish symptoms of burning sensation, depression, random bruising, paranoia, aggression, hallucinations, fragile bones…”

“Hundreds of millions have fallen ill overnight.”

“Airborne bacterial disease is extremely infectious.”

“Hospitals closing in China, the United States, Russia, India…”

It seems as though the world has fallen to this disease. They claim there has been a lucky few who have been selected to take an experimental prevention pill and be put under surveillance.

I wonder if the news is purely dramatic or if their numbers are truly factual. I shake my head as I stretch and then slowly make my way to my desk. Sitting down, I open up my computer and check the facts. The television did not lie. Headlines include: Millions in agony. Threatens government stability. Nations succumb to “Devil’s Disease”. Devil’s Disease is a lifetime of suffering.

Fear overtakes me and I assess myself. I do not have a single symptom. I release a long breath. I receive a notification. I have received an email from the Centers for Disease Control.

Randomly selected citizens,

We have released an experimental trial pill to prevent the “Devil’s Disease”. You have been selected to test the pill. This is not optional. Go to your local hospital before 12:00 A.M. and request pill Type B. They will give you any further instruction of information. Thank you.

-Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

Though I have concerns about this new pill, I am far more afraid of the “Devil’s Disease”. I push through my garage searching for the mask I used to spray paint a dresser, hopefully, it will filter out the bacteria. Out of sheer vanity, I glance in the mirror and straighten out my chestnut-colored hair, bound by the strap of my mask, while my robin’s egg blue eyes stare back at me with fear, just before darting out the door. I know I won’t see anyone who cares how I look, but a part of me has an embedded hope that everything is still okay.

I hopped in my car and turned off the radio, it would only scream more about this disease. The silence threatened my mind to think about horrible, awful things about the result of this disease. What if someone I know… I stop my mind. I focus on looking at things that are the same. Trees still line the road, it’s still the stormy season, Starbucks is still on the left, Target still shows up on the right, but there are fewer cars. The normality of these things mocks and offends me. How could they remain silent, peaceful, and still as an epidemic assaults humanity?

I pulled up to the Baysville, North Dakota Health Care Center and Hospital and got out of my car. I strode up to the hospital and walked through the sliding glass doors. On the left was a waiting room. A round, cherry-faced woman worked the desk.

“Miss, I’m sorry we are closed,” she says in a bored tone, while still, a smile remains on her face, “but I’m sure we will be open in a few days.”

The false hope she attempts to offer me is purely humorous. I ignored her and leaned in and breathed the words into the thin hospital air, “Pill B.” It felt wrong to say it out loud. Who was I to deserve this more than others?

She slid a document and a plastic bag with a handful of small pills in it across the counter. I read the document before signing it:

The following pill “B” is experimental and side effects are yet to be documented. The goal is to prevent physical and emotional suffering. Please take no more than one pill every 72 hours. If you are under the age of twelve (12), or weigh less than one hundred (100) pounds please consult a doctor before use. WE ARE NOT TO BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY ILL EFFECTS OF THE MEDICATION.

Pills MAY BE distributed amongst others, but they still come with risks. They may be often rejected, and disease may cause hostility towards the distributor of the pills. Pills MAY NOT BE distributed within a one thousand (1,000) mile radius to allow for observations of effects in varying climates. Please sign below to verify that you have read and agreed to this document.

X_________________________________

Signature

I signed my life away and took the pills. I smiled at the desk worker and then turned away. As I made my way to my car, I suddenly found myself incapable of moving, instantly captive to my thoughts. I had not thought about distributing pills on the way to the hospital. I mean, I wanted to distribute them, but how far away did it say I had to distribute them? 1,000 miles? Who can actually afford to take a trip halfway across the country? I sighed and walked up to my already half-broken down Chevy 2002 Prizm, definitely not capable of trekking all the way to somewhere that far. Where is even that far away? Nevada? Mississippi? Pennsylvania?

Shaking my head with a sigh, I easily left those troubles at the hospital and slid into my car. This time I turned on the radio with hopes of music playing. The only station playing music, 107.9, mocked humanity, but I left it on. Regardless of how inhumane it was to let AC-DC’s Highway to Hell play out during an apocalyptic epidemic, it would be the only thing to stop me from going simply mad.

I pulled into the drive and ran inside the house on the verge of tears. My heart condemned my mind for my instant dismissal of the notion of distributing the pills to those in dire need of them. My mind and heart bickered and reasoned. My heart screamed of my lacking character as my brain sang out reasons I could not distribute the pills.

There are only so many pills, you will never make a difference.

People won’t believe you, they’ll ignore you and swat your annoying nagging away.

You don’t have the money, you’ll never be able to get anywhere.

My heart had far less reasoning but its words rang out louder than all others: You HAVE to do this. So it was decided, I would somehow manage the trek to another state halfway across the country, distribute pills that will likely be rejected, be accused of being a phony… The more I think the less sure I am of the decision. I decide to take a break and take pills and watch the news for an update.