Blood Red

[starphotographs]

Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival, Lilith Fair Main Stage (throwback): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrygAv93Ick), Miniature Collection, Saturation
Characters: Spenser
Colors: Blood Red
Word Count: 966
Rating: R
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Some of what Spenser has done, and what has been done to him. What he’s done to himself, and what he could only dream of doing.
Note: Been wanting to do this Saturation for a long time! This song was the perfect push.


Like I’m Really Here


strangulation
The first few times were in self-defense.

Number one, I smacked the life out of him with some wooden pole I found, because he was swinging a crowbar at my head, and I panicked.

Until number two, I didn't know panic. Not until I felt his hands go around my neck, and I started seeing stars.

In my pocket was one of the first devices I'd made for myself, and I drove the prongs into his stomach.

I remember that the shock made his hands contract, squeezing my throat hard enough to gag me.

And I remember the instant release.



gunshot
I only played Russian Roulette once.

Cold barrel, hollow click, me laughing my ass off.

No, wait, I want a do-over!

I point the gun at my head again. No one thinks my jokes are very funny.

While I'm carrying on, I accidentally pull the trigger, taking out a bottle of bleach on a shelf across the basement.

For some reason, this strikes me as hilarious. I laugh even harder, so hard I fall backwards.

No one wants to play this game with me again.



stabbing
She was faster. She had a knife.

It was the first time I failed.

She worked the blade between my ribs. I smelled metal, felt myself start to drown on dry land.

Then I died in her kitchen.

I came alive again when I hit the ditch next to the highway. Cold and wet and sticky, only breathing on one side.

I couldn't stand up.

I didn't know where I was.

All I knew was that I had a long crawl ahead of me.

Back home, or into my own makeshift grave.



duel
Before the cagefighting circuit I was in disallowed weapons, I really cleaned up.

After, I became a punching bag.

I guess I don't really have the right build for it, but, for a while, longer than I probably should have, I tried.

When I finally quit, it was because a man twice my size, who I still consider a friend, slammed me so hard that we both thought he shattered my spine. We were terrified, but I was okay.

All I was left with was an achy back, and the "like, infinite beers" he said he owed me.

Not bad!



combat
I like the ones who fight back.

I like pausing for a second, tasting blood, and spitting red.

Make it feel worth it. Make me feel like I'm really here.

I want those last convulsions to make their knees find my gut.

I want the current to jump from them to me, shake me around a little.

Then again, it also makes me sad.

Here we are, both struggling to survive. We have so much in common. And I've been ordered to destroy you.

The worst part is, I know they want it more.



defenestration
That rainy day in the parking garage.

I'd been running top speed for fifteen minutes, uphill, out of the dark. Lungs hurting, heart racing, pouring sweat.

A perfect moment.

I had the target cornered, but, unfortunately, he was a crazy fucker like me, and he threw himself over the wall. We were two floors up, and I followed him. Broke the fall badly, with my hands, pain shooting up my right arm.

He jumped first, but I was quicker to find my feet.

The electrified knuckle dusters I'd made were in my pocket, and I slipped them over my hand.



fistfight
Outside the garage now, drenched.

I ran him down, and punched him in the head until his brain couldn't handle the shocks. He was dead, and I couldn't stop. I kept going until he was all give, eye socket and cheekbone shattered; fist going splat, splat, splat.

The bones in my forearm feel like they're being split with a hammer and chisel.

I won't know it for a long time, but my wrist is broken.

Not knowing this, I carry out my next three hits in a similar fashion, until the plastic casing on the dusters finally cracks.



poisoning
I was expecting the doctor to palm me off, but I never thought he'd drug my coffee.

Then, when I said I didn't feel very good, sat my cup down in the holder, he pulled over, helped me out of the car, zip-tied my hands behind my back, and threw me in the trunk.

Locked up in the dark, all I could think was, you motherfucker.

Well, that, and, what were you expecting?

Then, once more with clarity, I'd rather choke on my own vomit in this trunk than face what's waiting for me when they drag me out.



decapitation
I do have an off switch.

Everyone does.

It's right where my neck meets my back, where the bones stick out.

Insert the prongs, pry the bones apart, flip a switch, release the current, goodbye.

I could blow off my skull without making a mess, destroy my brain from the inside.

Or I could hire someone to smash it with a sledgehammer, cut off communications with my lungs, watch me hit the floor at last.

I don't need it yet, but it'll be there when, and if, I do.

A weak spot I can grab on to and crush.



garrote
Really, it's kind of trippy, how easy it is to do yourself in.

Take this extension cord, for example. (No, really, take it, show me what you can do.)

I could, as I've imagined about a thousand times, strip the socket end, drill a hole in my skull, shove the wires into my brain, and plug myself in.

Or I could just put those wires in my mouth. It would at least do something.

Then there's the simple option:

I could lay that smooth cord across my neck, and pull it until something snaps.

See what I mean?

Easy.

Comments

[novel_machinist]

Man, I just he's so interesting. It's like a frantic quest to prove he's actually a real person.

[bookblather]

This in conjugation with the song is really effective.

[shipwreck_light]

I LOVE YOU SPENSER

You love life, and you love death and READING ABOUT YOU IS SO YES

Thank you~

Infinite beeeeeers.