Read Online Seven Deadly Pleasures by Michael Aronovitz - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Aronovitz
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without sacrifice?"
"Please," I said.
His tone changed.
"My friend, can you imagine what it would be like if you were not able to retreat into shock? Can you fathom the pain you could endure if your body would not allow your mind to black out? Can you picture the torture of surpassing your own ability to faint?"
"What? I don't understand."
"Stay still, my love. I want to kiss you."
My mouth dropped open. So did his. From between his teeth a sudden eruption of black vomit shot forth and sprayed between my parted lips. Obscene. The taste was bitter and the plume was a juggernaut of force. It was either choke or swallow.
I swallowed and the room immediately became brighter. The details around me focused into a vivid, pronounced reality. I understood. It was a supernatural drug now alive in my veins. For whatever was about to transpire, he wanted me awake. My face dripped and he spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"If you can bend the rules of our wager, then so can I. It is time for redemption. It is time for choice."
What choice? Oh, my fucking God!
"It is simple," he said. "If you are not out of this bathroom in five minutes, Tina dies."
He vanished.
On the sink, there was a white timer set on five minutes, already ticking off precious seconds. And something off the rim of the tub glinted at the corner of my swollen eye.
It was a razor blade.
I turned on the hot water with shaking fingers. I grabbed the soap, slopped its film across my left thumb for lubrication, and found it was futile. I wet it, jerked, pulled, jogged, and turned, but the cuff would not slip over the joint. I tried cold water, got the same result, and had already wasted a minute and ten seconds.
I stretched back for a towel to dry off my hands. I knew what was necessary here, there was no time left to deny it. My eyes were wide. I carefully picked up the razor in my right hand and tried to gain the motivation needed.
To cut off my left thumb.
I sliced through the top tendon in one sweep and my thumb jerked down to the palm as if snapped off a rubber band. A thick well of blood boiled to the surface and dripped down to the rubber tub mat.
Small needles of pain, live wires, I had cut it to the bone. Careful not to let the razor slip, I pushed it along the inner side with a forceful swipe and the left half of my thumb went numb. A jet stream of crimson burst sideways and spattered the wall tiles. A droplet of sweat slipped over my eyebrow and danced off the back of my left hand. I cut through the outer side and almost dropped the razor down the drain.
I was moaning, spitting phrases of gibberish. My thumb had become a foreign object, alien, a disease; obsessed, I was focused keen on its removal.
The entire appendage had gone numb and it was becoming difficult to keep it in place.
The bottom side was tough like old gristle. I slashed at it three times and through the runners of red I could see whitish-yellow pebbly things that must have been small fat deposits or something.
I stopped. My breath was hot and rattly. I was down to bare bone on all four sides and I had lost what seemed about half a cup of blood. The bathtub was a strange, inverted marshmallow with lots of cherry syrup. I did not feel faint. I eyed the clock, two minutes and ten seconds left, I dropped the razor and gripped my thumb in the towel. The compress bloomed dark red instantaneously. And I was far from finished.
But I can't hack through the bone with that razor. I can barely hold it as is.
Tick tock, Joseph, tick tock.
I knew what had to be done. I needed leverage. I put the edge of the towel in my mouth and bit down.
Carefully, I stuck my thumb up the spigot, braced my feet against the base of the tub, and wrapped my right hand around the left's knuckles. The greasy blood made it hard to take hold, so I pulled as slowly as possible.
The bone was spry like a green tree limb. It started to bend and I screamed. I screamed Tina's name into the towel.
The bone finally snapped
"Please," I said.
His tone changed.
"My friend, can you imagine what it would be like if you were not able to retreat into shock? Can you fathom the pain you could endure if your body would not allow your mind to black out? Can you picture the torture of surpassing your own ability to faint?"
"What? I don't understand."
"Stay still, my love. I want to kiss you."
My mouth dropped open. So did his. From between his teeth a sudden eruption of black vomit shot forth and sprayed between my parted lips. Obscene. The taste was bitter and the plume was a juggernaut of force. It was either choke or swallow.
I swallowed and the room immediately became brighter. The details around me focused into a vivid, pronounced reality. I understood. It was a supernatural drug now alive in my veins. For whatever was about to transpire, he wanted me awake. My face dripped and he spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"If you can bend the rules of our wager, then so can I. It is time for redemption. It is time for choice."
What choice? Oh, my fucking God!
"It is simple," he said. "If you are not out of this bathroom in five minutes, Tina dies."
He vanished.
On the sink, there was a white timer set on five minutes, already ticking off precious seconds. And something off the rim of the tub glinted at the corner of my swollen eye.
It was a razor blade.
I turned on the hot water with shaking fingers. I grabbed the soap, slopped its film across my left thumb for lubrication, and found it was futile. I wet it, jerked, pulled, jogged, and turned, but the cuff would not slip over the joint. I tried cold water, got the same result, and had already wasted a minute and ten seconds.
I stretched back for a towel to dry off my hands. I knew what was necessary here, there was no time left to deny it. My eyes were wide. I carefully picked up the razor in my right hand and tried to gain the motivation needed.
To cut off my left thumb.
I sliced through the top tendon in one sweep and my thumb jerked down to the palm as if snapped off a rubber band. A thick well of blood boiled to the surface and dripped down to the rubber tub mat.
Small needles of pain, live wires, I had cut it to the bone. Careful not to let the razor slip, I pushed it along the inner side with a forceful swipe and the left half of my thumb went numb. A jet stream of crimson burst sideways and spattered the wall tiles. A droplet of sweat slipped over my eyebrow and danced off the back of my left hand. I cut through the outer side and almost dropped the razor down the drain.
I was moaning, spitting phrases of gibberish. My thumb had become a foreign object, alien, a disease; obsessed, I was focused keen on its removal.
The entire appendage had gone numb and it was becoming difficult to keep it in place.
The bottom side was tough like old gristle. I slashed at it three times and through the runners of red I could see whitish-yellow pebbly things that must have been small fat deposits or something.
I stopped. My breath was hot and rattly. I was down to bare bone on all four sides and I had lost what seemed about half a cup of blood. The bathtub was a strange, inverted marshmallow with lots of cherry syrup. I did not feel faint. I eyed the clock, two minutes and ten seconds left, I dropped the razor and gripped my thumb in the towel. The compress bloomed dark red instantaneously. And I was far from finished.
But I can't hack through the bone with that razor. I can barely hold it as is.
Tick tock, Joseph, tick tock.
I knew what had to be done. I needed leverage. I put the edge of the towel in my mouth and bit down.
Carefully, I stuck my thumb up the spigot, braced my feet against the base of the tub, and wrapped my right hand around the left's knuckles. The greasy blood made it hard to take hold, so I pulled as slowly as possible.
The bone was spry like a green tree limb. It started to bend and I screamed. I screamed Tina's name into the towel.
The bone finally snapped
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