Eyes Wide Shut: 11

Everything was fine, when I was laying on the operating table. In that moment, all was right in the world. Billy was sleeping, and twitched his legs while I stroked his cheek, holding him for what felt like an eternity.

I was disappointed when I awakened to find my arms empty, as the memory of what I had done returned. But the hurt receded when I saw the pods of my other children, who were still asleep. I still had them to take care of.

While I opened up the first pouch, I watched William’s form, which was still bound  A lesson plan began to form in my head, and I took time to let it simmer while I woke my family. I worked on them one at a time, rocking them gently to limber them up before I let them roam around the room. Most of them would drop off when I lowered my hand to the ground, but a few of them clung on and climbed up my arm. That was fine with me.

When all twenty were out of their sacs, I scanned the room. Some of them were crawling around, while others were practicing their assembles. They executed the movement very well, and I commended them on it. But what caught my eye were the three dancers, gathered some feet away from William.

With great reluctance, I picked off my passengers and encouraged them to go play. Then I turned toward William. The trio was casually seated on the floor, staring up at him as if he was a statue, or perhaps a TV screen. They were too enthralled to take notice of my approach until I stepped over them. Standing between the man and my children, I looked down.

Two boys and a girl. I bent down, and beckoned. The boys climbed on without complaint, but their sister ignored me. She glanced up at me, before turning her attention back to William, staying seated on the ground. When I snatched her up, she began to pout.

Her brothers were much more complacent, and remained where they were when I moved them up to my shoulder. The daughter persisted in her tantrum, slapping at my hand and squirming in my grip.

“Stop,” I ordered.
 She obeyed.
“Do you know what you did?” I asked.
She nodded, solemnly.
“You were being rude,” I said. “Weren’t you.”
Again, she nodded.
“Are you going to do that again?”
The girl shook her head. No.
“You should stay away from him,” I said. I took down the boys and added “You too. Will you all promise me?”
They promised.
I sent her and her brothers off into the crowd, wondering if I would have to deal with her again. There was a time where I would have hurt for this. I would have hurt her very, very badly. I didn’t like the thought of that very much, so I walked towards William.

He would be a problem, if he was distracting my children like this. I put my hand over the breathing hole that I had poked into the jacket, and felt warm air. I hooked my finger in, and lifted it up to reveal William’s face. He was well awake.

I prodded his “cast”. It was spongy, and yielded to the touch. “Do you dance?”, I asked, emphasizing his name.

He didn’t answer at first. Maybe he was wondering why I was asking. When the question finished processing, he said “No. I don’t.”
“How do your legs feel?”
“Numb.”
“Can you feel this?”

I jabbed his pant leg with a finger.
“Almost,” he said.

I took a few steps back, and surveyed William while I considered the situation. He’s been on the wall for a few days now.  Without proper exercise, his muscles could atrophie. I didn’t think I would compost him yet, but I always prefered that the guards be at full strength.

I walked away from William, and called for my children to line up. “Keep your distance from us”, I said. “I want you all to watch.”
They obliged, and I returned to William.

I started with his right arm. I dug into the cast, and managed to separate it from the wall without removing all the covering. William didn’t say anything as I moved onto his left arm, tearing it from the wall itself. I hooked my arms under his shoulders, and pulled him free with some effort.

I let go of him, and he buckled. I steadied him with an arm, and turned my head towards the crowd.

“I will be presenting a pas de deux,” I announced. “A ‘step of two’. Watch closely.” A look of realization and subsequent horror spread on William’s face, before I pressed my hand against his chin, holding his jaw shut. I spat a makeshift gag onto my other hand, and used that to seal his lips. He didn’t enjoy it. His eyes showed that much. But I wasn’t discouraged.

I grabbed his hands, and raised them up. They were slick with sweat, but it was preferable to them being able to go anywhere near my buttons. I stared down at William, and the dance began.

The dance was not a pas de deux. It wasn’t even ballet. On turns, I could see my pupils watching, completely still. They tried to understand it. There were no spectacular leaps, or synchronized movements. There was only shuffling, and William’s muffled grunts as we moved across the floor. It was a sluggish, disjointed salsa where one half does not want to dance.

William pulled against me, as expected. I pulled him closer, tightening my grip on his wrists and raising his hands near my shoulder. He bore a perpetual grimace; one of equal pain and disgust. He recoiled, whenever my face came too close for comfort. But after the third minute or so, he began to submit. His feet began to drag, and his legs buckled. I would hold him up or place him down, like a puppet.

After it became boring, I let go. William Afton fell to the floor, with his strings cut.
He was the worst dancer I had seen in a long time. However, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even bothered. I knew exactly what William was, and he acted only as I expected to. As I wanted him to.

I turned back to the dancers. “Stay there”, I said. I looked back at William, who was still on the ground. He didn’t seem happy-he was hunched over, and on his knees. Was he crying?

When I came closer, he sprang up and dove at my legs, attempting to reach the buttons. Strangely, he used his glove hand. Maybe it was just instinct. I couldn’t blame him; some things are too hard to erase.
His hand missed its goal, and he fell to the ground. I pinned him with my foot, as I thought about what next to do. I settled on giving him back his hand.

It was a simple matter, to get William back on his wall. He was lying on his back, like a turtle. And as defenseless as one. All I really needed to do was to hoist him up, carrying him with both arms as if he was a tray of pizzas, or a bride.  He didn’t resist, and allowed me to fasten him to the wall without complaint, waiting quietly while I stuck his limbs to the wall, one by one. Save for his right arm.

I pointed at the cast. “I think it’s time to take it off, William. Don’t you?”, I asked. He didn’t answer, of course. His mouth was still sealed, and remained such as I wormed a finger into the webbing. Eventually, I felt something that resembled skin. It was much rougher than normal, and felt almost like sandpaper, but it was skin nonetheless. I put another finger in, and pulled them apart until the whole piece of web was torn off.

The hand was a shriveled thing. Pockets of raw flesh dotted its ashy, leathery surface, while I could see bones in the gnarled fingers. And yet, it smelled sweet. It smelled like the fragrant muck that filled my dancers' bodies, while the rest of William called to mind blood or body odor. It was much softer, too-when I brought it in front of William's face, my fingers sank into their grip.

“It would’ve been much worse if I left it on longer, you know.” I commented.

He continued to stare at his hand. I could feel the fingers twitching. "Oh," I said in surprise. "Can you feel it?" He didn't answer. He was too focused on the hand to give any sort of reaction, so I decided to leave him alone for the night. But not before thanking him.

“You did well,”, I told him. “I might just make a dancer out of you yet.” Saying that finally caused a reaction; his eyes moved up to me and his arm dropped to his sides. He didn't protest, though. Perhaps he was getting used to this. I wondered about that as I put the jacket back onto his face, and stuck his last limb to the wall before returning to my children.

I began the lesson in full. “A true pas de deux needs synergy,” I explained. “Co-operation between both partners. On stage, a symbiosis forms between them. There was none of that in the dance you just saw. It is crucial for both halves to succeed, together.”

I picked out a boy and a girl, and told them to perform an assemble and then three pique turns. I counted down from three seconds, to ensure they danced at the same time. They executed it perfectly, and I explained the symmetry behind it before asking the rest to try.

After ten minutes of pairing off dancers and analyzing each of them, I reached the end of the lesson. They had all worked very well, and  I let them know that when I put them to bed. With all twenty accounted for, I sat in the corner the Derelicts used to wallow in, and opened up my chest compartment. I took out the photograph, and delicately unfolded it.

It was crumpled and worn. but William’s wife was still visible. As were her children. The sunset wasn’t quite as vibrant, but that was alright. Iris was still smiling.

I tried to imagine what their life together was like. It seemed happy, according to the picture, and what Iris told me. But I found that hard to believe.

Not when I knew William the way I did.

After a few minutes, I drifted off to sleep, feeling dreadfully tired. I had a dream about the woman with the bloody forehead, who was holding Iris in the picture.

In the dream, I was her.