Squirm thought he’d heard wrong. Not the man’s words, but his tone of voice. It seemed to carry no rage whatsoever. Thinking back, it reminded him of the first time they’d met, just near his school. A day Squirm knew he would curse for the rest of his life.
‘C’mon, Squirm, get up on your feet and come with me. I wanna show you something.’
Yes, Squirm had heard right. The man’s tone was calm and inviting, almost playful.
Squirm slowly moved his arms out of the way and looked back at his captor. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light that seeped through from the corridor outside. ‘The Monster’ was standing just inside the cell, staring straight at him. No anger in his expression either.
‘C’mon, c’mon,’ he said again, clapping his hands twice. ‘We don’t have all day. Let’s go.’ He tagged his last words with a subtle head-jerk. He then turned, stepped back out through the door and waited.
Squirm couldn’t quite grasp what was going on, but he sure as hell didn’t want to make ‘The Monster’ wait. In a flash, the boy jumped to his feet, took in a deep breath of damp, mold-smelling air, and followed his captor outside.
The man took Squirm up the squeaky wooden stairs to the second floor and into a padlocked room that he’d never been allowed in before. The room was relatively small, about sixty square feet, with a dark-gray linoleum floor and a single window at the center of the west wall, which had been boarded up with steel plates. No one could see out or in. The walls and the ceiling were all painted black and completely bare. A corner lamp cast the room in a glow of cold orange light. The space was also bare of furniture, save for a two-seater black leather sofa that sat to the right of the entry door, and faced a projection screen mounted on to the opposite wall. The sickly sweet and musky aroma that came from the room was like nothing Squirm had ever smelled before. It made his stomach crumple inside of him, and without even registering, the boy held his breath and squeezed his lips together as tightly as he could.
As he glanced inside the sinister-looking room, Squirm noticed that the sofa had been covered by some sort of thick, impermeable plastic sheet.
‘I like to call this my cinema room,’ ‘The Monster’ said, stepping inside and proudly widening his arms, as if about to hug an invisible friend.
Squirm paused at the door, his frightened gaze darting about the room.
‘It’s perfect, isn’t it?’ ‘The Monster’ smiled. ‘So, would you like to watch a film with me, Squirm?’ He sounded animated, like a caring father talking to his son.
Squirm finally breathed in again, and immediately he felt like throwing up. His gaze traveled to ‘The Monster’ but he didn’t know how to reply. The man saw the boy’s doubt and helped him out.
‘But of course you would, isn’t that right, Squirm?’ ‘The Monster’ nodded twice to emphasize the decision he had made on the boy’s behalf.
Wide-eyed, Squirm hesitated. For some reason, that room scared him more than his dungeon cell.
‘Isn’t that right, Squirm?’ ‘The Monster’ repeated, his voice now firm and menacing.
Squirm felt his whole body quiver as he finally acknowledged the question with a single nod.
‘Great, so come over here and have a seat.’ ‘The Monster’ gave the sofa a couple of taps with his right hand.
With guarded steps, Squirm closed the door behind him before moving into the room and sitting where the man had indicated. As he took his seat, the plastic cover squeaked under his weight.
‘The Monster’ picked up the remote control that was balanced on one of the sofa’s arms and sat down next to the boy.
Unsure, and now covered in goosebumps, Squirm kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, too scared to look at his captor.
‘Oh, I think you’ll like this one, Squirm. It’s a new release.’ ‘The Monster’ clicked the ‘play’ button and sat back.
Squirm, his body as rigid as a plank of wood, sat at the edge of his seat, his arms extended, his hands clasped together and tucked between his bare thighs.
As the first images filled the screen, Squirm frowned. There was no title, no opening credits, no mood-setting soundtrack. Instead, the film cut straight to a close-up of a woman’s face, who looked to be in her early twenties. Her blue eyes were full of tears, bloodshot, and puffed up from crying. Her long blonde hair was loose, falling over her shoulders.
‘Plea... please,’ she said, looking straight at the camera. ‘I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t hurt me.’ Her voice wavered with every word.
The shot panned out gradually to reveal the woman’s full body, and the sight made Squirm swallow dry. She had been stripped naked and tied to a chair that had been placed at the center of what looked like somebody’s living room.
‘Isn’t she pretty, Squirm?’ ‘The Monster’ asked with a smile.
The boy, transfixed by the playing images, was unable to say anything back.
‘Her name is Sharon,’ ‘The Monster’ continued. ‘I like that name, don’t you?’
No reply.
‘Say her name, Squirm,’ ‘The Monster’ demanded.
The boy’s attention finally moved from the screen to the man at his side. ‘What?’
‘What’s her name? Say her name back to me. I just told you what it was. Weren’t you paying attention?’
‘Yes, sir, I was.’ Squirm’s words sounded almost as frightened as the woman’s.
‘So say her name. And you’d better not get it wrong.’
‘Sh... Sharon. Her name is Sharon.’
‘The Monster’ held the boy’s gaze for a long while, his face a blank mask.
‘Isn’t that right, sir?’ Squirm asked in a pleading voice.
At last, the man’s lips parted into a smile and he sounded happy again. ‘Yes, that’s exactly right. But don’t look at me, Squirm. Look at the screen. It gets much better.’
Squirm did as he was told.
‘Whizzzzzzz.’ From the speaker, a loud, mechanical sound filled the room, startling Squirm and making him jump in his seat. On the screen, Sharon screamed in petrified terror and turned her face away as she began sobbing uncontrollably.
‘Please... no, no, no.’
Using whatever strength she had left, she ferociously wiggled her body on the chair, trying desperately to break free, but to no use.
Suddenly, from Sharon’s left someone else entered the shot. It took Squirm a few seconds to realize that the person now on-screen was the man sitting by his side — ‘The Monster’. He was dressed in some strange outfit, covered from head to toe in what looked to be a handmade, seethrough plastic jumpsuit. In his hands he carried a small machine, which was the source of the loud whizzing noise.
‘Do you know what that is, Squirm?’ ‘The Monster’ asked, indicating the machine.
Squirm shook his head.
‘It’s an electric sander. Fantastic little machine. Very powerful.’
Squirm looked back at ‘The Monster’ with shocked eyes, as he felt a new shudder run up and down his spine.
‘The Monster’ smiled at him. ‘That’s right, Squirm, you’ve got it. I’m going to sand off her face. Just look.’ He pointed at the screen.
The boy didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
‘Look,’ ‘The Monster’ ordered, grabbing the boy’s chin, and forcing his face in the direction of the screen again.
Panic had completely consumed Sharon, who was now frantically screaming and jerking her body in the chair, but her efforts didn’t seem to bother ‘The Monster’. On the contrary, they seemed to excite him more. He stepped closer and brought the sander to within just a couple of inches of her face. Feeling the wind and the heat produced by the 420-watt rotating disk, her panic went through the roof and she wet herself.
The boy just couldn’t look anymore. Instinctively, he closed his eyes and turned his head away.