Ch 54 The Eyes Behind The Witch

I awoke to the view of the ceiling above my head. I was back in my body. Being in the body of that woman was... distasteful. Fighting against another user... It was a reminder that I used to live in that world.

I hate him. He gets to roam free and enjoy that world at his leisure like no one else. If I was still there. God. I would have taken over that world by now. My power would be second to none and I could have a different woman every night for eternity.

This idiot has two women and tries to help people like some bleeding heart. Ridiculous.

I sat up and observed my shitty apartment. My dog was at my feet.

"Hey, Ulysses."

I pat him on the head a few times. He was getting old. I could tell he was trying to wag his tail. I was surprised to find him up on this raised hospital bed.

I walked through a mess of junk on the floor. I reached the window and opened the curtains.

The desolate wasteland outside had not changed since the last time I looked.

Broken down ruins of a world that used to be inhabited in every corner possible.

No life to be seen.

I've searched for life everywhere. Ulysses was all I found. He was a puppy at the time. Probably the last dog on this forsaken place.

I wanted to check a trap I had set down the street. I never expect there to be anything in it. It was just a way to keep me sane when the magician has nothing for me. A kind of routine to give me something to do.

I left my apartment and went downstairs. It was a short walk out to the street. I followed the sidewalk down four city blocks. I was in the middle of a ruined metropolis. Skyscrapers were abandoned and covered in overgrowth. It was not uncommon for a shard of glass to randomly fall on my walks.

Cars that, I could only assume once used to fly and many kinds of electrical garbage could be found on nearly every corner.

Whatever happened here, either its inhabitants died off in droves or they left in a hurry. So much was left behind.

I arrived at the familiar location where my trap had been set. A simple snare but, it would be more than effective. Of course, no prey had been caught.

I stared at it. I was daydreaming of what I thought the inhabitants looked like. I thought of males and females in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I assumed that they were of a similar humanoid shape and color as what I was already used to. Humans.

I pictured a beautiful brunette. She wore a tight grey dress that simmered and showed off all of the goods. She was careful about her weight and it showed.

I could see her walking. The way her thighs moved. How her breasts bounced. Her hair gently bobbing on her shoulders. I dreamed of this beauty every day on my walks.

I was in love with a thought, an image. The best part is, I never had to worry about her saying no to me. It was my dream. No one could interfere.

I could bring her home. I could kiss her. I could feel her. I could do anything I wanted.

I pictured her on my couch. Her head against the armrest. The couch is too short for her full height. Her knees were up in the air.

We could do a little role play. Her ropes kept her from leaving the couch. I would disappear for a moment to let her wonder what would happen next.

She would cry out for me. My return would herald a new beginning for our night together. In my hand would be a blade of exquisite sharpness.

The look on her face showed horror. I knew that she wanted it just as much as I.

I slowly got closer and watched her face evolve. The closer I got, the harder I got. She was practically in tears when I was next to her.

I brought the tip of the knife to the edge of her skin where her dress ended at her thigh. I slowly dragged the blade down her thigh. She would shudder and accidentally stab her leg on the blade.

The blood would begin to stream down her leg and pool up on the couch. The sight was so stimulating.

She would scream "no" but, her eyes would tell me, YES! It makes me want to cut her more.

I would hike her dress up until I find the string of her thong. That would be my starting point. I would position the knife at the height of her thigh.

The blade would go in...

...

I got distracted by ominous sounds. Cables snapping. Glass shattering on the ground behind me. Vast quantities of metal beams, moaning as it bends out of shape.

A nearby skyscraper was leaning. It was at its limit and was about to fall. Not only that but, I happened to be right in its path.

I wasn't worried.

I wandered a little ways away from my trap. The building, which was at least seventeen stories tall, was now losing its contents through the leaning front. Desks, chairs and other various office objects were crashing through windows.

It was like a rain of objects. Papers floated. Copy machines crashed into the cement below.

It was time. The building began to let out an almost painful moan as the rusted front beams gave out under the extreme weight.

An office building was about to fall on top of me.

I was not a pansy like that new user in Eyse. I had power and I was not afraid to use it.

I raised my right hand. I snapped my fingers. A shockwave of force repelled the vast majority of the office building.

The looming threat of the building was replaced with an open sky. I stood quiet and closed my eyes while I listened for the crash of the debris in the distance.

I heard a fascinating sound. If I am guessing right, the mass must have landed on another building, causing a cascade of buildings crushing others in a row.

I opened my eyes and looked back toward my snare trap. No damage.

I began thinking about getting back into my daydream.

As soon as I let out a smile, some loose debris began to berate the area around my trap. I got worried for a moment and was about to hop the fence that I had been watching from.

Seemingly out of nowhere, two entire stories of the office building I had sent flying, came crashing down on top of my setup.

My trap was gone.

I let out a sigh. I felt like I had just lost a dear friend. It was such a simple thing but, it reminded me of my father. He taught me how to hunt. In more ways than one.

I was too depressed to even think about setting another trap at this point. I decided to head back to my apartment.

As I walked, memories of my father were berating me. He was always good to me.

We went hunting several times a year. Rabbits, deer, foul, boar and my largest kill, a bear. I learned how to hide, how to avoid being detected because of a shift in the wind while tracking.

I had not yet left the nest. I was no good at school. I had a part-time job. I was eighteen when I was spending the night at a friend's house. I couldn't sleep and had no interest in being there. I was somehow forced into it.

I escaped and began to walk home. I saw my father leaving a bar with a woman. My mother was on a business trip.

I didn't hate my mother but, she was nothing in comparison to my father.

I followed them. The woman was beautiful. Almost as much as the one, that I was daydreaming about earlier.

Brunettes were always a weakness for me.

They arrived at my house. I was curious about sex and wanted to learn even more from my father.

I took my time entering my house as quietly as possible. I was so careful that I was afraid I would miss all the action. I finally arrived at my parent's room. I heard the woman moaning.

Perfect timing.

I gently opened the door ever so slightly. I hardly saw a thing. I pushed it open just a little bit more.

Blood.

The woman had cuts all over her nude body. Her face, breasts, arms, torso, thighs, legs, hands and feet.

Some were shallow, others oozed blood from deep wounds.

My first reaction was to wretch. I held it in as my father's back came into view. I watched as he dealt the final blow.

The still conscious woman began to cry. Her mouth was covered and prevented any real attempt at calling for help. I watched my father cut her throat open.

I had to leave.

I moved more quickly to get away but, still kept to my quiet ways. When I was several houses away, I fell to my knees and emptied the contents of my stomach.

The image of that woman's eyes going blank replayed in my head, over and over.

I returned to my friend's house that night, no one the wiser.

My family life went on normally for the next year. I tried my best to not let on that I knew what happened that night.

My mother decided one day, to divorce my father. Neither of them would tell me why.

I began spending most of my time away from home. After my mother was out of the picture, I happened across my father attempting to "hunt" again.

I was not about to pass the chance up. I wanted to see everything, from beginning to end.

They got into a car before heading home. That was fine. I knew where they were going and I could reach it faster by foot.

I hopped through several yards before I just barely beat them home. I snuck into the same room where my father had his way with that first woman. I hid inside the closet with vents lining the doors.

Sure enough, the woman entered, followed by my father. I watched them undress. My father kept wooing her and asking for more.

He finally asked her if she liked handcuffs. He pulled out two pairs that were lined with a pink and soft furry material. She went for it without a second thought.

After both of her hands were cuffed to the bedposts at the head of the bed, my father brought out another two sets. She smiled at him and he cuffed her feet to the bedposts at the foot of the bed.

He then left the room saying that he would get something to drink and a couple of other toys.

The woman was at the mercy of anyone before her. Her body was completely nude and held down.

Why would anyone want to feel so helpless?

My father returned. I saw him hiding duct tape behind several strange objects. He found a way to get her to close her eyes. Before she could react to the sound, her mouth was covered with the tape.

Her expressions turned from interest and playfulness to fear and anger. I heard my father whisper many things to her but, I could never make out what it was that he said.

I watched him make the cuts, one by one. My stomach was not upset like last time. Now, I was merely interested in what he was doing and possibly why.

Each cut was precise. He never made a random cut. He knew where the next one would go, how deep and how long. This was like art for him. He was enthralled by it.

Not that I would attempt it but, If I walked out of this room right now, he may not even notice. He was obsessed with what he was doing.

After she was dead, I watched him clean up the body. He was gentle and soft. Like she meant more to him now than when she was alive.

He never looked at the closet that I was hiding in. That made it easy to escape while he searched for other cleaning supplies.

Over the next year, I watched his rituals six more times. I can't follow him all the time so, I don't know if he had more "hunts" than those. I just know that every time I watched, I felt like I was learning to appreciate the same things he did.

I felt like I wanted to try hunting like this myself.

I tried to pick up many girls since then. I don't know if I looked too young or was just too inexperienced at interacting the way my father did. It never happened.

The last time I watched my father perform his art, I lost control of a sneeze. He heard me and opened the closet door with the knife in his hand. I was petrified.

The look on his face... He was mortified at what he found. I told him it was okay, that I knew about it for a long time, and never said anything.

He was speechless. He dropped the knife and backed up until he lost balance and sat on the bed. His face was buried in his hands.

I stepped out of the closet. I picked up the knife and walked over to the still bleeding woman on the bed. Her eyes told me that she was on the verge of death.

She was begging me. Not for freedom. I could see it. She wanted more! She wanted me to cut her more!

I put the blade to her skin. I pressed inward until that familiar red color began to flow. She made a sound that I will never forget. It was a combination of fed up and anger and fear and...

"CARTER!"

He yelled.

*SLAP*

My father had slapped the knife out of my hand. He grabbed my wrist and nearly threw me out of the room. He closed the door behind him. I heard the woman make one final sound before she died. It was not his usual poetic method. It was like he was gutting a kill to end its suffering.

I waited for two days before I knocked on the door. No answer. I knew how to get his door open. I picked the lock and found his corpse on the floor next to the woman on the bed.

I think I stood there for over an hour before I was able to move again.

I didn't cry. I called emergency services. I was taken to my mother and put into therapy. They asked me questions non-stop for several years. I never let on that I was in on father's secret.

Over time, I began to realize that there were different forms of art. I saw many paintings and statues and listened to music, theatre and more. My father's art form was not the only true art. I never fell in love with the cuts on those women's bodies. I fell in love with the faces they made when they were betrayed, wounded, denied hope and finally placed on the chopping block.

The eyes, the mouth the tears the eyebrows. They combined to make a masterpiece. Every human face is different. That meant that there were unlimited possibilities for masterpieces around the globe!

That's what I thought at first.

My mind was put into overdrive the day I was brought to Eyse. An entirely unknown world. If one more world existed aside from my own, how many more could there be?

I nearly cried at the thought of how many times I could see the majesty of the face, contorted in pain, suffering and helplessness.

Then, the day came when the magician introduced himself to me. He was the reason I was brought to Eyse. He made me something he called, the Vile potion.

It was a clear glass orb with an opening at the top. The fluid inside was a deathly black. I had no interest in such an ominous drink. He assured me that It would not only give me immortality but, immeasurable strength too.

I hesitated. It smelled horrible and was bubbling as though it was molten. I was about to take a sip when the magician pushed the bottom of the orb up and the fluid poured down my throat.

It was painful. It felt like death. It made me want to die. Only at first. After I was reborn, I went on a rampage throughout the world of Eyse.

It was then that I learned of the potion of Rage. Similar in composition, made by a similarly genius mind to the magician.

The human I encountered fought to save the people. She was my true enemy. She never showed a face that could excite me. She stood in my way, time and time again.

Our strengths were on par. The magician did not want to step in but, he did. The dimensional teleport was used to send her away. Unfortunately, she had other powers that I could only dream of.

Shadows formed below me and the magician. They launched us up into the air. We were all taken by the dimensional teleport. We were all left in different worlds.

I was sent here by that stupid magician. His spell backfired.

The only one I can talk to is the magician himself. He can contact me in my head space. Even though we are in different worlds. It turns out, he landed in a world where magic isn't just abundant, It is nearly inexhaustible. The beings in that world found a way to replenish it over and over.

He told me though, the mana he spent on that woman's body was non-refundable. Why?

He spends his time experimenting with spells. He creates a mind link with a subject and sends them to another world. Willing or not. He askes them questions and repeats the process with different spell activations and mana consumption factors to find similarities and differences. He wants to find a way to bring both of us back with the technology of his new world to fill Eyse with mana, once more.

I don't know what he wants with a world that's already dying. If I were him, I'd stay in the new world, where magic is already abundant enough.

I arrived at my apartment. I had left my door open. Ulysses was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, he never wants to go down at his age. I entered my apartment and looked at the front of my door before continuing further in.

"Carter."

My name was on the front of the door. I used tools to carve the shapes out of the door.

I felt the needs of my body. I had to piss and find something to eat. I scrounged up a sandwich with some various mosses as a bread substitute and filling. I made one for Ulysses too. It's one of the few things that does not upset my stomach. I could stop eating altogether. This body is just as immortal as the new user. I'm just so used to eating, I don't want to stop.

As I ate, I found the body-length mirror and looked at myself. My grungy tank top and torn pants. My shitty overgrown blonde Mohawk. I loved it when I had something to keep it standing up. This world has no hair product to use that isn't expired or useless. My beard was scruffy as always too.

My borrowed body was now dead. I had to wait for the magician to find me a new one on Eyse.

Shit. He is going to be pissed...

Non-refundable...?