i finger ghostly bodies, reenact his methods to shut down thought, pluck away restraint, create a frenzy of need until the heart lodged in the chest is silenced by the cacophony of blood rushing between thighs.
i conquer.
i am aroused.
my arousal agitates; the fleshy pile begins to writhe. emotions spray my face. shake my head, fling off sentiment, drown out tears. the mumbler whimpers. i feel his fear. suddenly i am back in the room. clipped-tone man speaks quickly and forcefully. a sharp beeping rings out; relief floods his voice.
“They’re coming, someone’s coming now.”
“Get…” the mumbler speaks raggedly. “Get the story.”
pain clings to the mumbler’s voice. pain that will soon be mine. close my eyes. force myself to pretend to go Under. imagine i feel water slipping over my suit. remember the loud hush of air trapped in my headgear. solitude.
the metal circle taps into me. sharp, icy sparks shoot down my spine. it takes the peace from the water and suffocates me with it. my throat fills with water. then as i’m gagging, the memories come, flying at me like the tail of a stingray. whap! the wiry, steel brush slams into my cheek. when it pulls away, it’s red with my blood. hiss of blade nears me, then cuts a path across my other cheek. a pounding on my back. i go down to the sound of cracking bones—my bones.
in the nightmare again. my tormenters watch me crumble. i can feel a waiting in them, a waiting that tells me they don’t want my pain. beating me is the prelude to something else.
inside the memory and seeing the memory at the same time. glittering crumbs of glass halo my body. wiry brush, wet with my blood, rests on the ground next to my head. acrid odor wafts from the brush. have i been poisoned? for a brief second, my consciousness splits. begs to move on from this memory to the next. there is no bio-anger here. brush’s odor grows stronger, bitterness against the NewsNet solidifies. hate what this memory has given them: raw fear, brutality, a violent attack, all the emotional material they need to send a report. what is real—what really happened—doesn’t matter. pummeling fists will become murderous seeds or heavy, violent fruit. muscular arms will become thick green vines. they record every detail: the tremble of my body, the fluid burning my eyes and leaking onto my cheeks.
the memory does not stop. while i lay inert, burly hands flutter over my face. the hands—disembodied against the backdrop of dark, grubby clothes—hold small lumps of metal nested in palms. the metal glints as the hands dip closer. the men blot out light with their bodies. fingers, quick as fever, attach metal to my mouth. the metal lumps, spider-like, begin a many-legged prancing around my lips. spindly legs prick me rapidly, piercing the skin, pulling the saliva out of my mouth.
skin around my mouth, blistered, stinging. the men paw through their pockets. their hands cradle round, foil-covered balls. my face feels as if it wants to split open. they pull away the foil, uncover powdery white globes. break the globes in half. lodge broken globes between teeth and cheek. slower, prancing metal legs move slower, and slower. stiff with terror, lie there. afraid to touch my mouth, afraid to move my arms.
the hands dance over me, floating in unison. pull translucent tubes from filthy folds of clothing. i don’t exist. they see only the metal on my mouth. not a person, i am just a stretch of earth. a patch of living material, a vessel that spouts something they need. metal legs, stilled. hands attach tubes to metal lumps. don’t close my eyes. watch. they suckle the tubes, suck my saliva. breath, shallow; body, lifeless. i don’t close my eyes.
my saliva rises through the tubes, flows into mouths of my brutalizers. cheeks shudder, they clench their mouths closed. my saliva erupts, sparking a riot in their mouths. eyes roll back. they slump, slack, onto the sidewalk. lay, close as lovers, next to my body—this body, the body they have claimed. a heavy limb falls across my lower legs. finally, i try. strain to lift my arms. can’t. try to shake the metal spiders from my mouth. can’t. no strength. not even to drag myself away. exhaustion engulfs me, wolfs down my consciousness. tumble into a deep dark sleep.
shivering.
something in hands. hold tight. bundle against chest.
“Equi!”
my name. blank. in my mind is blank. know “Equi.” my name. up. up i see dark, gray sky. something grab my shoulder. shake me. flinch. shaking stops.
“Equi.” voice say my name. gentle voice. scared voice.
“Are you sure she will be safe with you?”
clipped tones. snap head left. see man, see man. down. look down. legs standing, not sitting. my legs standing too. man has brown shoes. i have slippers. shoes from Under. look up at man. don’t see eyes. i look where he looks. steps. hard stone steps. tall gray steps. steps.
“I have to get back. Are you quite sure?”
“I’m sure.”
voice. i know voice. man squeezes arm. looks sad in eyes. runs away. runs up steps.
“Equi.”
look down. woman. small woman, strong woman. dark eyes. wet eyes.
“Equi,” says soft, sad voice. touches my face.
throat hurts. brain hurts.
“ma…” whisper. sound! i talk.
“mama.” i talk again. mama nods. smiles. my voice ugly.
wetness grows in her eyes. “I couldn’t get to you,” she says, hand in my hair. “I couldn’t get to you before they did. I shouldn’t have let you come back.”
wetness grows in my eyes. water. water spill out. wet cheeks. voice louder. voice stronger. yelling now. howling. howl because the wiry brush. howl because the metal spiders. howl because they stole my spit. yell at steps. yell at man. yell all the way up to NewsNet.
mama hand moving in my hair. sad. scared. looks like she wants to “shhhhh” me, but scared. scared to break me more. no more breaking. mama hands pull my bundle, i don’t let go. mama hands wrap around me. my arms lock across chest, my yells shoot up to sky.
“Equi,” says, soft. mama hands pull me, soft. down. down the stairs to flat wide ground. “Equi, we must go,” says a little more strong. mama hands slip around my arm. mama hands pull me.
“Give me that.” grabs my bundle.
grunt. grab bundle back. no more taking. no more taking hands. look down in my arms. bundle: dirty cloths; my clothes, dirty with blood and something glittery. mama pulls clothes. catch the small flat thing that falls. box. shiny box. fancy green letters. hold box to face. read, “Your Bio-Anger.” more letters. serious black letters, say, “Thank you for sharing your story.”
“mama.”
we stop. mama hugs me again. now i hug mama too, not just hug my chest. lean cheek on top of mama’s head.
“Just breathe,” says. “Can’t do nothing with ugly, but breathe it out. Breathe.”
take big deep breaths. lungs hurt. let pain out with screechy animal sounds. deep breaths. hurt wants to take me back to that room. i don’t want to go back. grip mama. i want to stay with mama. look around. look over mama’s shoulder. people. people rushing. people walking. people staring. people pretending not to stare. get nervous. i slip quiet. one second, quiet. two seconds, quiet. three seconds, quiet. mama grabs my arm.
“We got to get you away from here,” says.
rushes me past people. doesn’t look around. looks straight. drags me past huge buildings. drags me past hard buildings, brown buildings, gray buildings. finally looks around. turns.
“there?” i ask.
mama’s face breaks into a smile.
“You’re talking, Equi! You’re coming back.”
words coming back to me. memories too. memories of how it felt to see mama, hug mama, touch mama. laughter. one night of hugs and laughter. want nothing but hugs and laughter here on the Surface.
mama points to a narrow space between two gray buildings.
“There,” says.
