The light on the battery pack was finally a solid green, indicating a full charge. The blinking red light that signaled the empty battery had infuriated him, to the point where he’d thrown the entire contents of the room against the far wall. But now it was green again and his work, his oh so important work, could continue.
“Please, please, no,” the poor woman pleaded as she fought against the restraints that tied her to the chair. Her mewling saddened him, infuriated and frightened him, to the point where he could hardly contain himself. She needed help so badly, her illness was one that she would have carried with her to the grave. It was his pleasure and honor to help her overcome the demons in her mind.
“Don’t do this, please,” she whispered as he approached.
She could at least show some god damned gratitude, couldn’t she?
“If you don’t stop talking,” he said as he tightened the straps that held the woman’s head to the back of the chair, “I’ll put the gag back in. Do you understand?”
The woman nodded, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s okay, I know you’re scared,” he said while patting her head gently, “and it’s not your fault. I’m going to find it, I promise, and take it out. I’ll find the stone, remove it, and everything will be fine.”
He guided her eyes with his finger, raising it to his forehead. There sat the glorious absence, the hole that had pierced through his sickness and raised his consciousness to godhood. “The stone rests in your mind, festering, poisoning your thoughts with all of the petty insecurities that have ground your life to a screeching halt. It’s okay, it’s okay…”
He raised the power drill, with its newly green light bathing the dark room in emerald, and pressed the trigger, bringing it to furiously spinning life.
“…you might feel a slight pinch.”
He pressed the drill bit to her forehead and pushed forward. Her scream pierced the air for only a moment and then faded into a sickening gurgle. He stopped after an inch of the drill had bored deep into her skull, released the trigger, and pulled the bloody appliance free with a wet snap.
“There,” he said as he stepped back, “all better now, eh?”
“Please, please, no,” the poor woman pleaded as she fought against the restraints that tied her to the chair. Her mewling saddened him, infuriated and frightened him, to the point where he could hardly contain himself. She needed help so badly, her illness was one that she would have carried with her to the grave. It was his pleasure and honor to help her overcome the demons in her mind.
“Don’t do this, please,” she whispered as he approached.
She could at least show some god damned gratitude, couldn’t she?
“If you don’t stop talking,” he said as he tightened the straps that held the woman’s head to the back of the chair, “I’ll put the gag back in. Do you understand?”
The woman nodded, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s okay, I know you’re scared,” he said while patting her head gently, “and it’s not your fault. I’m going to find it, I promise, and take it out. I’ll find the stone, remove it, and everything will be fine.”
He guided her eyes with his finger, raising it to his forehead. There sat the glorious absence, the hole that had pierced through his sickness and raised his consciousness to godhood. “The stone rests in your mind, festering, poisoning your thoughts with all of the petty insecurities that have ground your life to a screeching halt. It’s okay, it’s okay…”
He raised the power drill, with its newly green light bathing the dark room in emerald, and pressed the trigger, bringing it to furiously spinning life.
“…you might feel a slight pinch.”
He pressed the drill bit to her forehead and pushed forward. Her scream pierced the air for only a moment and then faded into a sickening gurgle. He stopped after an inch of the drill had bored deep into her skull, released the trigger, and pulled the bloody appliance free with a wet snap.
“There,” he said as he stepped back, “all better now, eh?”
ISSUE #1 (October 2018)
Written by Chris Munn Featuring: John Constantine
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"THE STONE OF MADNESS"
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