Page 65 of Twist Me

Iguess the dumbfuck was good on his word because, just as Mickey Musk promised, I was being led to the back cells labeled the “sensitive” section.Screams and sounds of pounding were a backdrop in this place as I was shoved nearly up my ass with the baton stick from the guards.

“Boys, I hope not to offend and all, but my ass is strictly exit-only, ya feel?”

Grunting, the cell guards jabbed me harder with their little sticks. The assholes needed to lube those fuckers first…damn.

“Detective Quinn instructed us that you are allowed to have three mins with patient 001,” the ass poker said, clicking some buttons, and a hiss sounded as the huge metal door opened.

I took a deep breath. My particular discomfort at being in the face of a true wacko had to be showing a bit. These mother fuckers were the type of cracked nuts you see in horror movies and shit. I didn’t want to do this, but I needed some fucking answers.

Joe wasn’t always this broken man. He had to have memories shoved somewhere in his busted membrane that I could use.

Ass poker number two simply shoved me into the padded room and locked the door. The familiar click brought memories of my Little Lamb to mind, which hurt and pissed me off. Letting my anger take over my fear, I walked forward. Joe was chained to the wall by shackles that looked like they held cars or boats, not one man.

I carefully walked over to his still form, his eyes moving left to right. It reminded me of those boats at carnivals, back and forth.

“Hey there, Joey,” I greeted, tapping the wall and trying to get those swinging pupils to focus.

Once they did zero in on me, I regretted it. Now, he stared at me with unblinking, bugged-out red-rimmed eyes. Joe was getting older. His body was deteriorating along with his mind. His frail grey hair looked like onion-fuzz sprouting from his bald head. He didn’t have eyebrows or facial hair, and there were fingernail pieces and balls of hair littered in a circle around him.

The entire room smelled of antiseptic, but not enough because the shit and piss stench lingered.His white clothes were stained yellow with some spots of red. This miserable fuck was sad to look at.

“I won’t bother you long, buddy. I just need to know a few things.”

I stayed a good distance away from him and watched as he adjusted his shoulders, the straight jacket bunching and clicking when the buckles collided. The huge metal ring around his ankle smacked the floor without much of a sound from the padding.

“Do you remember anything about…” I paused, unsure if I should even be in this situation. “The Reaper..?”

Joe stopped fidgeting with the jacket and raised his head to meet my gaze. The fucker ran toward me, shrieking, “Tick-tock! Tick-tock!”

I jumped backward and held up my hands, trying to calm him.

Tick-tock? What does that mean? Time?

“Easy there. Are you saying something about time?”

“Tick-Tock,” he screeched louder, his eyes doing the swinging motion again.

“Do you know who The Reaper is, Joe?” I tried again.

Joe’s eyes swung faster. He opened his mouth and growled, biting down on his lip, drawing blood, and chewing on the skin.My time was about up. I had to get answers. I had to save Ezello and my brothers from that monster…even if it meant I was going to become one after rotting here eternally.

“Shhhh! Sleeping! Don’t wake it!”

Sleeping?

“The Reaper isn’t dormant anymore, Joe. It’s back and killing people again.” I warned.

He chewed his lip harder, the sucking sounds making me queasy.

“Shhhh! Sleeping. Always sleeping! Tick-tock, tick, tick-tock!”

I sighed. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this poor, broken soul.

“Tick-tock goes the sleeping toy. Tick-tock.”

The ranting continued, and Joe became more and more upset, smashing his head against the plush white wall.

“Tick-tick goes the sleeping toy! Tick-tock, Joe. Tick-tock!”

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