Short Stories/Androphobia

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Jack, a middle-aged man with a mop of black hair and a long, black coat, stood up from his hiding place within the bushes. He was the most wanted man in Athens, yet despite that, he'd just finished breaking into jail, talking with someone, and breaking back out without anybody but the inmate, William, being the wiser.

Crawling out from the bushes just outside the police station, Jack started to make his way back to his home, which was located in the western-half of the north-east quadrant of Athens. Along the way, his thoughts were flooded with a young boy he'd seen earlier that day, near the Underground Hole's wreckage. It looked as though he'd been looking for someone, and had been quite visibly upset about whatever news he'd learned.

*Poor lad.* Jack thought as he walked, his stride rhythmic and measured. *At least your friends support you.*

His walk back home was short, at least when compared to other trips. The police station William was being held was only in the north-western quadrant, so he lucked out on being within a couple miles. Climbing the stairs of the apartment complex, Jack pulled out a key and unlocked door #4. Stepping inside, he closed the door and hung his coat on the nearby rack. Walking down the hallway, he reached the main room, then went down another hallway off to the side, opening a door when he reached it.

On the other side, in the column of light that entered the room from the door's opening, was a small child, who was sitting with her back in a corner and her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Jack entered the room and approached the girl.

"Hey," he said, offering a hand upon reaching her. "are you okay? Come on, it's time for dinner."

The girl looked as though she hadn't heard him. Jack simply remained there, his hand still outstretched and his friendly demeanor unwavering. After a minute, the girl slowly unfurled and took his hand. Slowly and carefully, Jack led her out to the main room, where the girl then let go and sat at the table, while Jack made his way to the fridge.

The girl was young, probably no older than eight. She was almost entirely skin and bones, had long brown hair, and hadn't spoken a word in the three weeks since Jack had found her. At almost all times, she stared down at the ground, her mouth agape, and her eyes empty. Her skin was pale, though Jack suspected that that was an unnatural side-effect of being chained in the Underground Hole for what was probably years. She was broken. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Jack wasn't in the least bit surprised. He was simply thankful that, in the few weeks since he'd rescued her, she had been slowly healing.

Jack pulled a small bowl of rice from the fridge and tossed it into the microwave for a minute. When the timer beeped, he pulled the bowl back out and gave it to the girl along with a spoon.

"Here you go." he said, sitting on the other side of the table afterwards.

The girl slowly looked over at the rice, then began eating it. Jack simply watched from the other side. As she ate, Jack caught sight of the dark-red scabs that still covered her outer left forearm. A pang of guilt rushed him upon seeing them again.

A few days after he'd rescued her and had begun taking care of her, the girl became responsive to him. It was first out of fear, terror, yet she didn't scream. A few more days, and she became used to him. It was around that time that he'd made the mistake of asking her for her name. As usual, she didn't answer. Later that night, however, Jack had walked in on the girl with a knife, carving into her own arm. After he'd taken the knife away and cleaned the wound, he could read that she'd carved letters there.

"A-L-I-Z-A"

Jack had no idea why she did it. He still had no idea why, but he felt it was in-part his fault. What terrified him the most out of the entire ordeal, however, was that the girl didn't flinch or wince whatsoever, as if the pain didn't bother her.

A few minutes after she began, Aliza finished the rice, placing the bowl carefully back on the table. Seeing this, Jack stood up and offered his hand to her.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Aliza stared at Jack's hand for a few seconds before taking it, after which he guided her to the bathroom. Once inside, Aliza stripped off the one-piece dress she wore—her only article of clothing, despite Jack's attempts at getting her more clothed—and climbed into the shower stall. Jack hated to be here, to see her like this, but the last time he left her to bathe herself, Aliza curled up in one of the corners and sat there until he came to check on her hours later. The long dress Aliza wore hid much of her body beneath its pale-yellow cloth, but the evidence of her past was written on her very skin where the dress covered it. Evidence of claw marks and tears covered much of her back, chest, neck, and inner thighs, with bruises still covering parts of her pelvic region. Tattooed onto her labia majora was a heavily ornate butterfly, whose thorax was the vaginal opening.

Ignoring her scars and his seething hatred rising again, Jack turned the water on and pulled the showerhead from its mount. Opting to let Aliza bathe herself as much as possible, Jack mostly sat back, making sure that Aliza actually cleaned herself rather than curling back up into a ball.

After about fifteen minutes and a few direct interventions and assists from Jack, Aliza had finished bathing, drying, and dressing herself. Once done, Jack guided her back to her room and tucked her into a bed in one of the corners, leaving her to sleep. He then went back to the kitchen, where he grabbed a roll of crackers and sat back down at the table, crunching on one. As he sat there, his mind drifted back to the scene of the Underground Hole when he first found Aliza.

Jack walked along, covered in blood, dragging the maimed, struggling body of a sub-Human bastard by his hair, his blood-choked screams echoing through the posh halls of the high-rising brothel as his lungs slowly filled with his own blood. As he walked, his eye caught sight of an elegant wooden door that had a butterfly carved into its upper-center.

Kicking the door open, there he saw her—Aliza—strapped to a metal ring by her arms and legs, her body making the shape of an "X". Next to the door was a guard, who quickly had Jack's knife embedded within his throat. Looking further in, he saw a "customer" standing near the girl, still fully erect, looking to the door to see who had been so rude to interrupt him, yet still hadn't processed the blood-soaked psycho dragging a body behind.

Seeing the "customer", Jack immediately reacted by letting go of both his knife and the body he dragged and lunged himself at the new bastard. Sitting at the kitchen table, Jack gave a wide, tooth-filled smile alongside a chuckle of pleasure as he remembered the thrill of tearing that thing's balls off with his hand and squeezing the life out of him with the other. His memory then jumped to him untying the girl, throwing a cloth over her, and carrying her out in his arms as the building's lowest key supports vaporized and the structure collapsed in on itself. As the emergency responders took care of the smoldering remains, Jack carried the girl home.

He ended his trip down memory lane by reviewing the last few weeks of him taking care of Aliza and helping her recover from the actual hell she'd lived through while she was trapped within. Closing his eyes, Jack then drifted off to sleep.