Unwound (9 page)

Once I reached my destination I went directly to the table

where I had made my shirt with Morrison’s help scanning for any

tool that might be somewhat useful. I glanced around until I

found the rotary cutter that I had used that night and sat at the end of the table with the large sewing machine in front of me.

As I began my work I couldn’t help but feel a little sick. It’s

like the worst part of London was showing through me, but unlike

her I had to be extremely careful with my arm giving a random

almost constant twitch. What I did wasn’t perfect and what I did

wasn’t genius. What I did was done in a moment of desperation

thinking that I could complete just a little more of myself than she had done.

After the painstaking part of my plan was done, I retrieved a

needle and some thread and made my way back up to the third

floor with my possessions in hand. I put my materials on the

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windowsill and brought the mirror and cot over to that side of the room. I was going to have to work in the moonlight but if I

concentrated and was careful enough, I knew I could do it.

I took a deep breath and removed the patch that Jared had so

kindly given me. I stared at myself trying to decide if this was

worth going as far as London would. All that stared back at me

was an empty eye socket with wheels and cogs busily spinning

about inside showing through the gaps of skin she hadn’t

bothered to close.

Determination took over me.

With my shaky arm, I threaded the needle and grabbed the

pieces of skin I had removed from Cassara’s ear. Leaning into the

mirror I held a small piece above my eye and used my steady

hand to break my flesh stitching the borrowed skin in place. After all, what was one more set of scars? What was another piece of

skin that didn’t belong to me? What was one more discoloration

to my imperfect complexion?

It took almost an hour with my arm being so uncooperative.

When I was done I stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t

believe I had done this to myself. What pieces of her skin I could use covered most of the gaps and left only small gashes where the

insides were still visible. I noticed that the gaps I had managed to cover looked like bruises now and it was because I had stretched

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her skin as much as I could without tearing it.

While it wasn’t perfect, it would have to do. I grabbed the

discarded pieces of skin and cartilage and threw them out the

window.

If only I had taken more of her, I could’ve closed my arm as

well.

I sat down on the cot and put my head in my hands. What was

becoming of me? Why had I dared to think that? If I was having

these kinds of thoughts I should not have left. If I was already

acting like a miniature of London, sewing skin onto myself, I

should have stayed where I was and taken the torture and abuse.

Maybe I should have just let London have her fun with me. I

knew that eventually she would have deemed me unfit to be alive

and took me apart piece by piece, stitch by stitch until I was

nothing more than discarded pieces of flesh, broken bones, and

small timepiece parts scattered across her many workstations

ready to use for another creation.

A soft breeze picked up outside as I sat there wallowing in my

misery. I heard something fluttering about in the wind so I put my face in my chin and looked up to see what it was. I smiled despite my mood; it was a paper airplane. I watched it as it rode the

breeze lazily and landed at my feet.

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I nudged it with my toe.

For something that had glided so gently, it seemed a little

heavier than what I would think a normal paper airplane would

feel like.

Clearing my throat, I leaned down and picked it up and small,

black drawstring bag fell out of it. I eyed it cautiously for a

moment. This could not have been an ordinary piece of paper to

be able to carry that little bag in it and how exactly did it get this far up anyway? I refused to go near the window to shut it, instead I reached down for the airplane and unfolded it to see what it was made of to make a journey this high up harboring that bag.

If I had blood, I’m sure it would’ve run ice cold at that very

moment.

I knew that handwriting so very well and the message that

was written inside gave me the same feeling of being falsely

loved and taunted at the same time.

The words were written like a murderous nursery rhyme:

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He gave you a gift but mine is more true.

I cut around the flesh so tender and young to get

this for you.

I know how much you’ve always wanted to see

through two eyes.

Here’s the little boy’s gift to you on the night that

he died.

-L.

My body was shaking so hard that I could no longer feel the

difference between the night chill and the fear that was running

through me. I stared at the bag and let the letter fall from my

hands. Was she still out there? Was it even her that sent this at all or was it another one of her creations that she had hid so well?

My breath became labored as I thought of what the note said:

He gave you a gift. Only one little boy had given me a gift and

my heart, the pieces that were human, were aching as I reached

for the bag.

I opened it slowly and shook it gently into my hand.

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Another smaller, clear bag fell out.

My knees buckled underneath me as I realized what I was

holding.

In my selfish moments I had always begged London for the

gift of two eyes. I always wanted to be able to see the world out

of both sides not just one. And here, she had finally granted my

request out of venomous hate and deranged love.

I forced myself to my feet. On my way to the mirror, I

grabbed the cog that had fallen out of my arm. I wasn’t going to

let Jared’s last precious gift to me before London took his life go to waste and with as ill as I felt at the moment over what I knew

needed to be done. I stood in front of my reflection and slid his

golden brown eye into my empty socket and wedged it into place

with the cog. I took a deep breath and stared at myself as the

small wheel disappeared behind it. I blinked a couple of times and suddenly the world started to come into place as I had never seen

it before.

Silently I thanked Jared for the gift he had been tortured for

and placed the eye patch he had given me over the side of the

mirror. It would always be there when I looked at it and I would

always think of him whenever I could bear to bring myself to

look in the mirror again.

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A thought had occurred to me as I turned away.

I had to find Morrison as soon as possible because if London

was killing everyone that had done me kindness, she would be

next. Grabbing my jacket, I ran out of my room and started down

the flight of stairs. As I passed the elusive second floor that I

never had time for I heard the sound of something dragging and

echoing dully throughout.

I stopped at the stairway entrance and squinted into the

darkness. Now that I had the precious gift of two eyes, it would

take less time for me to adjust to seeing in the dark.

I took a tentative step into the room and the dragging came to

a halt. I wasn’t afraid as I thought I would be. I think it was

because I was still feeling grief for Jared and anger for what

London had done to him.

In the room I heard something snap and heard a set of

footsteps run out of the room and make their way down the last

flight of stairs. I ran over to the window to see if I could catch a glimpse of who had just been in my home but whomever it was

had been faster than me. I never saw them nor did I honestly care

at the moment, I was more curious about the sound that I heard

before they left.

How are there no lights in this damned—Oh. There it is, I

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thought as I ran my hands along the side of the wall.

With the flip of the switch the entire room became illuminated

and I gasped.

Somehow this room seemed to have stayed intact regardless

of the fire Morrison had told me about. There were the faceless

dolls sprinkled throughout, some with clothes others partially

dressed, and only a hand full had nothing more than a measuring

tape draped around them. The machines here looked brand-new.

There were boxes of sewing tools around the room and new

spools and pieces of cloth that had yet to have been touched.

I smiled as I walked across the room looking at everything in

wonder. I had thoughts of moving my cot down to the second

door as I ran my fingers along the tables; I just felt that it would all seem so much safer here.

For a moment I had forgotten what had brought me into this

room until I heard a noise in the darkest corner of the room. Close to the door on the other side I heard a cranking sound. I stopped

walking and craned my neck to see if I would be able to make it

out from where I was, but I knew I would have to get closer to be

able to see it.

Swallowing hard, I walked a little closer as the cranking

sound intensified. As it came into view I saw a small box and

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with a handle on the side going in a circle by itself. It seemed to be emitting a melody. I took a step closer and grit my teeth.

I knew exactly what song that was but I refused to let it strike

fear in me. It had caused me enough sleepless nights before.

I stepped closer still.

The cranking went faster and faster until finally the top

popped open and a small clown with big evil eyes and a wide

toothy grin popped out attached to some accordion looking

apparatus. Curiosity took over me. I noticed something was

hanging from one of its hands. It looked almost like human hair

with skin still attached to it.

Almost like a scalp.

I took a deep breath and made my way quickly to the box and

lifted the clown into the light. The hair fell from its hand and

landed on my foot. I kicked it away and that’s when I noticed that it was small, but it looked like just a fragment so I couldn’t be

sure who it belonged too. Then I noticed the strands of pink in it.

Maybe London wasn’t as pleased with Cassara as she had

hoped she’d be, I thought as I grabbed the piece of skin and

settled down at the closest machine I could find.

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Eight

I decided not to go out that night. Obviously someone had

been trying to send me a message by sending me that hideous

jack in the box and I wasn’t sure if they could’ve been lurking

outside.

What I had done instead though was to make a mockery of the

little warning that had been sent to me. Yawning as the sunlight

started to pour into the building I leaned back in my chair with

my arms crossed in front of me staring at my work.

The hideous clown with the electric blue hair now had a stripe

of pink down the middle. It wasn’t perfect especially since I had

to remove the scalp which left me with less hair than I wanted to

use but still every time I looked at it, it would provide me with

amusement and a small victory against London.

I stared at it for a moment then turned my head slightly to

look out the window. It was definitely morning out in the world

and here I was still awake sitting with this “gift”. I yawned again and reached forward, tapping the clown on the nose and watched

it rock back and forth. Placing my elbows on the table I put my

face in my hands for a moment before I stood and decided to go

back up to the third floor to lie down.

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As I slowly climbed the staircase and with as much as I

cursed myself for falling to pieces basically I had forgotten that I had the journal all along. I had forgotten about it because of the barrage of things that seemed to keep coming at me.

In a way, I felt sick as I stood in the doorway of my room.

Had I taken the time to think things through and not act on the

impulse I had witnessed a few times before, I could’ve avoided

having pieces of Cassara stitched to my face.

I felt like the worst part of London was starting to come

through me; as if I were made in her image. I seemed to be

committing the same crimes against humanity as she did even

though Cassara was not human. Only parts of her were. As I did

my best not to think about it anymore I scanned the room for the

journal. I wasn't sure where it could possibly be now since I had

moved so many things around in the span of a few months.

After an hour of frantically searching, I finally gave up. The

book wasn't in this room where I had originally brought it. I didn't know where else it could be unless -- Unless whoever was in here

earlier leaving me the grotesque little present had stolen it while I was gone.

My body began to tremble as I felt myself begin to get warm.

I didn't know that a junk heap could feel heat and yet here I was

shaking and getting warmer by the moment. It was rage; it had to