Page 91 of In This Iron Ground
His mind short-circuited. His body came online.
He could feel it now.
He pulled at the bind again, but it only seemed to tighten, Jesus, it was just a T-shirt, why wouldn’t it—
“Wait! Damien, stop. Wait, you’re making it worse!”
Damien was making it worse. He was making it worse. He couldn’t move, he was making it worse.
“Calm down, I’ll—fuck it’s so tight, you’ve got to stop moving, Damien, I can’t get this knot undone.”
He was making it worse.
The voice disappeared. Damien couldn’t see anything. He could smell Mrs. McKenzie’s perfume. It was a suggestion in the air. Powder and flowers. It smelt good. His stomach heaved with it.
How many times had she told him? How many times had she had to repeat the same thing, Damien? Sit down. How many times? Do you think that other people need to be told this many times? Look at me. I’m trying to help you, Damien. I’m trying to help you get better. Be better, because this isn’t normal, is it? These ropes are going to help you. You need help, don’t you, Sweetie? Don’t squirm. You’re just making it worse.
His hands were free. She’d let him go. He looked around to see what her expression was today. He’d need to look at it to know what type of day it would be.
There was a stranger on the bed with Damien. He looked scared. His face was washed of colour like a badly saturated picture. Damien couldn’t quite catch his breath.
“What, what—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m, fuck, I’m so sorry,” the pallid photograph was saying.
When Damien was six, he used to sit with his dad in the living room whilst he graded papers. It would be four thirty on the dot when Puzzlemania would start on the TV. The camera would zoom onto the face of a grinning man to the sound of applause.
“Welcome to…Puzzlemania!” he would say to the crowd. Damien would cheer along.
One of the manic puzzles of Puzzlemania involved the contestants having to guess what a blurred image depicted as it came into focus, section by section.
A parted mouth rounded in an O.S-o-rry. Hair brown, dishevelled. The sound of panting in a room. An animal. No, no! A boy! The smell in the air, what is that? Sweat.
Hands, hovering over you. They won’t touch you. They’re afraid, too.
That’s the smell! Fear. I knew I recognized it.
Someone is saying a word, let’s see if you can guess what it is!
D-A-M-I-E-N
Damien! Yes, Damien. Damien? Hey. Hey.
I think I know what it is. There’s a body on a bed. The mattress, sheets, you can move your hands now.
Damien?
There’s another person. It’s not a photograph, they’re right there! Another word. This one you have to drag out of your brain.
M-C-K
No. No.
L-E-N-A-R-D
That’s right. Lenard.
“Lenard?”
