Without A Heartbeat

Six cadavers hung by their necks from a beam that ran between the walls of an ice packed room. Vapour rose like smoke around their naked bodies, which had turned grey in death. Their eyes stared blankly and they gave macabre grins through exposed teeth.

“I can’t attack dead men! That’s disgusting!” gasped Scarlett.

“Actually the aim is to resist attacking them, even though we will be giving you provocation to do so,” said Henry, who sat on a large block of ice covered with a thick blanket. “You are a predator now Scarlett, do not forget that. This exercise would hardly work if we used Scarecrows.” He gestured towards the men. “Besides, they are already dead. They won’t be doing much else other than hanging around.”

Scarlett ignored his attempt at gallows humour. It seemed sacramental to her to use the bodies of men who had once lived lives and had families in such a dreadful way. However, if Faru and the handbook were to be believed, their souls had moved on to new bodies and all that was left was the shell that had once held them.

“If it makes you feel better, these people agreed to donate their bodies to science once they died and were paid well as a result. It is either this or be cut to pieces by a surgeon who most likely has no clue what he is doing.”

“Fine,” breathed Scarlett.

“Brilliant.” Henry clapped his hands together. “Right, I need you to stand by the first cadaver. My colleagues and I will be leaving the room and speaking to you from the adjacent room.” He pointed to a metal door that stood next to a large mirror nearby. “We will be able to see and hear you through this one way glass. You will be able to hear, but not see us. I am going to provoke you in order to make you descend into the Fury, using the information you provided. It is your task to try to resist the urge you will have to attack.”

Doctor Hudson walked forward and poured the contents of a small jar onto a cloth. Scarlett’s fangs slipped down from her gums as she smelled the familiar metallic tang. The doctor wiped the cloth against the chest of the first cadaver, smearing it with blood.

Then he, Henry and the secretary left the room through the door and locked it, leaving Scarlett on her own in the sinister room with the half-frozen bodies.

I can’t believe what I am about to do. How has it come to this? Scarlett forced herself to remember what was really important. The sooner I do this and recover, the sooner I can go home.

There was a buzzing sound and then Scarlett heard a distorted version of Henry’s voice coming from behind her. “Can you hear me okay?”

Scarlett whirled around to see a box with holes on it fitted to the wall. Henry’s voice was coming from inside somehow, as if it had been stolen and placed inside. “Yes,” she said with a frown.

“Good. Then we are ready to begin. I want you to remember the word control.”

“Control?”

“Yes. That is the word that I will say if you get lost in your own thoughts. I want you to associate it with this place and me. If I say the word, then use it to bring yourself back to the present, back to here.”

Scarlett didn’t really understand what he meant by getting lost in her own thoughts but nodded. “Okay.”

“Please face the first body.”

Scarlett took a deep breath through habit and steeled herself.

“I want you to close your eyes and imagine Master Clarke. Can you do that?”

Scarlett stiffened at the sound of his name, but nodded regardless. She closed her eyes and pictured his sallow face, the beady eyes that seemed to bore into her flesh and the greasy hair that he hid underneath his top hats.

“Can you see him?”

“Yes.”

“This will be difficult but I need you to return in your mind to a time when he attacked you.”

Reluctantly Scarlett cast her memories back to one of the moments that she had tried her best to forget. It was the third attack, when he had caught her in the kitchen. It didn’t take long before the scene was in her mind, playing out in vivid detail.

The kitchen had been cleared and Master Clarke sized hold of Scarlett’s hair in his hand, dragging her towards the larder. She fought against him, thrashing and clawing at his hand. He threw her inside and she knocked against the shelves, scattering bags of flour and seeds onto the floor.

“Stop struggling you bitch,” Master Clarke growled and punched her in the jaw. Scarlett heard a crack and pain flood up the right side of her face. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she pressed against the shelves with nowhere to go. Master Clarke laughed at her.

“You are pathetic.”

He tore at her dress, breaking buttons and tearing at material as he kissed her neck. She tried to push him away, but it only made him hit her again.

“Stop it!” she pleaded. “Please stop!”

Something changed. Uncontrollable rage flooded through Scarlett and she pounced forward, tearing at Master Clarke. He gave a muffled scream as her teeth clamped around his lips and pulled away, tearing them from his face. Blood spilled over her chin as she bit again, digging deeper into his flesh until her teeth raked against his. His screams became chokes as his own blood filled his throat. Scarlett bit his nose next, ripping it away until nothing was left but a gaping hole. Master Clarke sank to his knees and she started kicking him, her mouth full of his flesh, as he writhed in a pool of his own blood.

“Control!”

The image tilted and slipped away, replaced by the ice room. Scarlett blinked as her senses returned to her. She looked down and let out a gasp. The cadaver was pinned underneath her, its face torn to pieces and body twisted from grievous blows to the side. Scarlett could taste flesh in her mouth. “Oh my god!” She ran to the corner of the room and vomited. “How could you let me do this?” she choked when she was finished.

“Scarlett you did this, not us. And you will continue to do this while the Fury has its hold over you. I am assuming you attacked Richard Clarke in your memory.”

Scarlett nodded. “How did you know?”

“Because it is exactly what I expected to happen. The predatory part of you will try to protect you from all attacks, however, at this moment it cannot distinguish reality from memory. Thus, whenever you recall past events that have negative emotional significance you are risking this behavior. What you attacked is just a body…nothing more than meat. However, what if this happens when you are around real, living humans?”

Scarlett had no answer. He is right, I can’t risk hurting humans. What if I had been in a room with Connor, Ma and Pa? She stood up, wiping a hand against her mouth and glanced at the mirror. “Let me try again.”

Doctor Hudson came back into the room and used the cloth to put blood on the second corpse. He gave Scarlett a nod and then once again she was left on her own.

“I want you to close your eyes and imagine the same thing as before. Although this time I want you to recall your father. Try to imagine what he would say to you to get you to stop. Remember the love he has for you and try to turn towards that instead of succumbing to the anger you feel.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. You are doing well.”

Scarlett closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to the memory, until it became as real to her as the ice room she stood inside.

The kitchen had been cleared and Master Clarke sized hold of Scarlett’s hair in his hand, dragging her towards the larder. She fought against him, thrashing and clawing at his hand. He threw her inside and she knocked against the shelves, scattering bags of flour and seeds onto the floor.

“Remember your father.”

A flickering image appeared in the kitchen beyond the larder. It solidified and became her father, sitting on a chair and smoking a cigarette, his expression one of sadness.

“Poppy…” he said in a voice that was as light as the breeze.

“Stop struggling, bitch,” Master Clarke growled and punched her in the jaw. Scarlett heard a crack and pain flood up the right side of her face. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she pressed against the shelves with nowhere to go. Master Clarke laughed at her. “You are pathetic.”

“Think of your father and use him to calm yourself.”

The image of Desmond disappeared and reappeared next to Scarlett. “It’s okay Poppy, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here.”

“Get away from me!” she hissed. “I don’t want you to see this!”

Master Clarke tore at her dress, breaking buttons and tearing at the cloth as he kissed her neck. She tried to push him away, but it only made him hit her again.

“Stop it!” she pleaded. “Please stop!”

“Poppy, come home with me. I will keep you safe, I promise.” Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to stay here with this awful man. We can leave. Come home with me…please.”

“Get away!” she screamed and shoved her father with all her strength. His head cracked against a shelf and he collapsed to the ground, silent and still.

Master Clarke turned his head and snickered, before returning his attention to Scarlett.

“What did I do?” she screamed. “Da!”

Blood seeped from a deep gash at the back of Desmond’s head. Scarlett tried to reach him, but Master Clarke sized her arm. “Where do you think you are going whore?”

Scarlett whirled around and thrust her hand into Master Clarke’s gut. He stopped short and his eyes went wide. With a howl of fury she tugged his intestines through the hole. They spilled to the ground and he went with them, twitching as spittle flew onto his lips. Scarlett lifted her foot and stamped down with all her strength onto his throat, ending his life. She dropped to her knees and tried to wake her father, but his eyes had gone distant and cold.

“Da, I’m sorry. Wake up! Wake up!” She started to scream.

“Control!”

Scarlett kept screaming, the sound ripping at her lungs.

“CONTROL!”

The image snapped away from her and Scarlett found herself back in the room, realising that she was still shrieking. She forced herself to stop, taking in huge gulps of air. Once again, she saw that she had pulled one of the cadavers from the beam. It lay on the floor, grey intestines wrenched over one side of its stomach and throat crushed from her boot heel. Scarlett reeled backwards and stumbled against a block of ice. “I can’t do this, don’t make me do it anymore,” she breathed as she remembered her father, lying dead on the floor by her own hand.

There was a pause and then Henry Marlowe spoke. “You can do it, Scarlett and you will, I promise you. It is just going to take time.”

Scarlett continued to spend her time at the Rebirth Clinic. By night she would sit on the bed of an austere room that did not contain much beyond a writing desk with a jug of blood and a cup resting on it, a simple wall clock, and a shelf filled with books, which she would read without paying much attention to the words. By day, she would be in the ice room, which always had a fresh supply of cadavers for her to tear to shreds. Over and over she was forced to recall memories of her attacks and each time try to use the memory of her father to stop her from taking revenge on Master Clarke. Gradually she could feel the pure anger within her belly start to subside until it became dull, but it was never quite enough to heed the words of her father and stop her.

“We are going to try something a little different today, Scarlett,” said Henry through what Scarlett had learned was called an intercom. She was wearing a simple white petticoat, which was the same attire that all females in the clinic wore. It was still clean, but would no doubt end up filthy as all the others did when her daily sessions were over. “This time I want you to remember the final time you saw Michael and Lisa Granger.”

“You mean the night when I…”

“The night you killed them, yes.”

Scarlett had grown to trust Henry over the past few days. His methods seemed unorthodox, but then everything about the Alliance and its associates were far from normal. Scarlett no longer tried to resist when he asked her to consistently recall bad memories, even though it made her feel drained and emotional. She knew it was for her own benefit.

“Okay,” she agreed with reluctance.

“We are making good progress. Your attacks are getting less severe and you are able to draw yourself from the memory with much more ease. However, this moment has strong emotional resonance for you. It was the time when the Fury was at its worst for you. I want you to use your father and how you feel for him and your family to try to stop it.”

“It happened so quickly, I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to try.”

Scarlett nodded and closed her eyes. It took a moment, but then her mind drifted back to the night that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She crouched outside the steamed up window, breathing in the scent of sweat. The Grangers were locked in their passion, the sweat from their writhing bodies glistening on their skin. Scarlett felt fury as the image made her think of Master Clarke and his sweating, red face as he invaded her.

“Remember your father.”

“Poppy, stop.”

Scarlett whirled around to see her father standing beside her on the grass, wearing a sad expression. Beyond him, she could see Ma and Connor through the window of their home. Her mother was carrying her brother to bed, but they had frozen, as if reduced to stone by medusa’s stare. She whirled her head around to see that the Grangers had stopped moving too. Even the trees and the grass had stopped swaying, the wind no longer present. Everything apart from Scarlett and her father was as motionless as the dead.

“You don’t have to do this. Come home with me.” He extended a hand.

“I can’t help it,” she breathed. “I have so much anger inside.”

“You don’t have to be angry anymore. Everything will be okay.”

She shook her head. “Nothing will ever be okay again.”

Scarlett broke through the window and time moved at a crawl. The glass shattered around her, the shards rotating slowly in the air. The Grangers moved then, their motions so slow it was as if they were drugged, eyes widening and drawing apart from one another with sluggish movements. Her feet hit the ground with an echoing thud and she drifted towards them, anger burning in her chest. Michael’s expression shifted over what felt like an eternity, from surprise to terror, as Scarlett inched back her arm, ready to swipe.

“Do no listen to the Fury. Listen to him.”

A hand gripped her shoulder and Scarlett turned, her face inching around. Her father was standing behind her in the room. Without a word he pulled Scarlett into him. As his arms encircled her, time sped up and the glass pattered to the floor. The Grangers screamed and scrambled to cover themselves up.

“Let me go!” she hissed.

“I will never let you go.”

All other sounds dissolved into silence as Desmond placed his hands on either side of Scarlett’s face and stared into her eyes. As she saw the familiar face of her father, the anger started to ebb away. “My sweet Poppy, you don’t have to do this. I love you, and I will love you always.”

“I don’t know how to live like this,” she whispered, and her chin began to tremble.

“Yes you do. You will adapt and survive. You are a Reid, it’s what we do.” He stroked a thumb across her cheek. “This is not the end of your life my darling, but a beginning of a new one.”

He pulled her close and she held him, pressing her face against his chest and smelling the scent of fresh soil and smoke that clung to his shirt.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

“I know sweetheart. It doesn’t matter now, I’m with you. It’s time to go home.”

Scarlett nodded. “Okay.”

Her father took her hand and together they walked through the door and away from the cottage.

“Control!”

Scarlett let the image fall away and the ice room returned. She looked at the bodies, and was shocked to see them still hanging untouched from the beam. The sound of clapping came from the other room.

“Well done Scarlett,” said Henry. “You have broken free of the Fury.”