Kapitel 12: Reasons!
Luther's scalp prickled with a chill as he stared at Carol, who lay disturbingly still on the table before him. The sight was grotesque. Carol's mouth was half-open, and something slimy writhed inside, twisting and coiling like a nest of slick eels, tightly packed and pulsating with a sickening rhythm. Luther clenched the hilt of his dagger, holding it at the ready, his knuckles turning white. He was prepared for anything, should those repulsive tentacles suddenly lunge toward him.
But moments passed, and the writhing mass remained in place, not spilling out or attacking. Luther exhaled slowly, a hesitant sigh of relief, but his stomach continued to twist in disgust. Those things, whatever they were; looked like a mass of wriggling leeches, dark and wet, squirming in a way that made his skin crawl. He shuddered, unable to watch any longer. His mind raced for a solution, some way to deal with this horror.
Steeling himself, Luther turned and headed out of the room. He needed supplies. In the dimly lit kitchen, he rummaged through drawers and cupboards until he unearthed a heavy pair of scissors, their blades long and sharp, clearly intended for cloth but more than adequate for this nightmarish task. Luther also gathered a needle and thread, a small but wickedly sharp knife, and a tray to hold his instruments. This wasn't exactly surgery, he thought grimly, but it was close enough.
Before he re-entered the room, Luther donned a bird-beak mask; a relic from times of plague; and pulled on a pair of pristine white gloves. He would keep himself safe, even if only symbolically. Carol might still be in there somewhere, buried beneath the mass of tentacles, and Luther was determined to bring her back, even if it meant trimming away the horrors that had overtaken her.
The tentacles squirmed as Luther approached, but he forced down his revulsion and focused on the task. With careful precision, he began severing the heads of the wriggling tendrils. Each snip of the scissors was accompanied by a faint, wet crunch, and the severed pieces fell limp, lifeless, onto the tray. He worked methodically, his hands steady, despite the bile rising in his throat.
Carol's eyes suddenly fluttered open, her vision blurred with pain. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her mouth, radiating down her throat. She couldn't quite understand why she felt anything at all; her tongue had transformed into those vile tentacles long ago, losing any semblance of normal human sensation. Yet now, it hurt, like someone was hacking away at her.
"Am I dreaming?" Carol wondered, trying to move her mouth but feeling only the numb weight of the severed tendrils.
Then, a sharp, searing pain jolted her fully awake. In her h blurry vision, she could see a figure hunched over her, wearing an eerie bird-beak mask, pulling thread through her raw, mangled mouth. Carol's heart pounded. She recognized the precise stitching technique; it was the kind of needlework she'd used back in his old life, mending clothes for extra coin. Except now, the thread was piercing the remnants of her own flesh.
"Ahh! You damn monster!" Carol tried to shout, but her words came out slurred and mangled, her ruined tongue curling helplessly against the stitches. "You're pulling too hard!"
He struggled, writhing against the figure's grip, his muffled protests rising in panic. "Stop it! You have no idea what you're doing! If you keep going, you might wake... the thing inside me!"
Luther's focus wavered, his gaze snapping to Carol's wild, desperate eyes. Realizing his patient was now conscious, Luther muttered an annoyed sigh but tightened his grip, his stitching hand moving even faster. The Lembert stitches looped neatly, knotting the lifeless tentacles together to resemble the crude shape of a human tongue.
"Hold still," Luther snapped, not sparing Carol's frantic gaze a second glance. "The more you move, the worse it'll look."
Finally, after a few more careful cuts, Luther straightened, examining his work with a slight tilt of satisfaction. The tentacles were bound together, resembling a grotesque, stitched-up imitation of a tongue. It wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. He removed his bird-beak mask, revealing his face; pale, almost ghostly in the dim light, with piercing scarlet eyes that seemed to glint with an unsettling mix of curiosity and satisfaction. He licked his lips thoughtfully, as if savoring the strange task he had just completed.
"Carol," he murmured, his voice steady and cold, "now that you're awake, let's have a little chat. Tell me everything about Dr. Joseph. What happened while I was away?"
Carol's mouth opened, still numb and sore, but her eyes locked onto Luther with a mixture of hatred and fear. She could barely form words, the mutilated tongue moving sluggishly, but she managed a hoarse, strangled response. "Dr. Joseph... he's gone. You'll... never have your revenge."
Luther's eyes narrowed, his expression twisting into something unreadable. "Is that so?" he murmured, almost to himself.
Carol struggled to form the words, her voice slurring. "You... you idiot... you cut it off. My tongue's tied up... and you think you've fixed it?"
Luther stepped aside, allowing Carol a clearer view of the room. Strapped to the far end of the makeshift hospital bed, a limp, desiccated figure lay bound, its eyes hollow and lifeless, its body in a state of partial decay.
Carol's heart skipped a beat. "Is that… Joseph?"
Luther leaned in close, his scarlet gaze searing into Carol's. "No. That poor soul over there is a mere shadow of what's left of him. Dr. Joseph is in a far worse state; only his head remains, kept alive by unnatural means. He's become a zombie, leaving just enough of him to linger. I can show you if you wish."
Carol's eyes widened in horror, the stitched monstrosity that now served as her tongue recoiling instinctively. A mixture of despair and dread churned within her. Whatever had taken hold of her body was still lying dormant within, and Luther's hands-on 'surgery' had only made he situation more precarious.
Luther tilted his head, his lips curling into a dark smile. "Don't look so horrified. After all, you're still here, aren't you? And so am I. Now, we both have unfinished business, don't we?"
Luther carefully concealed the truth, weaving his words with a subtle blend of deception. He had, in reality, taken it upon himself to end Joseph's existence after the man succumbed to the infection and transformed into a mindless, ravenous zombie. But he kept this detail from Carol, he needed her alive and cooperative, with her mind intact enough to provide any remaining scraps of information.
"Joseph is gone," Luther said softly, his tone gentle, as though offering condolences. But Carol's reaction caught him off-guard; her eyes grew misty, glistening with unshed tears. The hatred he held for Joseph, the twisted desire for vengeance she could never fulfill, seemed to hang heavily in her gaze. Without an outlet, her fury and grief had nowhere to go, and the weight of it was breaking her from the inside.
Luther observed her in silence, letting the moment stretch. Then, without a word, he left the room. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying a dusty, gray jar, its surface marred with age. He held it up, turning his gaze back to Carol.
"Carol, I need you to tell me everything you know," he said, his voice sincere, a quiet urgency underlying his tone. He didn't open the jar, didn't rush to show its contents. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Carol, hoping that his honesty, at least in that moment; would compel her to speak.
Carol closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling as she wrestled with emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years. After a long silence, a tear slipped down her cheek.
"You… you have to live well, Luther," Carol murmured, her voice rough and weary, as if those words were a farewell.
She took a shaky breath, then began, her voice a bare whisper. "One night… that monster Joseph, he grabbed me by the throat, forced me to swallow this… small red pill. Said it was the antidote for the blood plague. I didn't think; I just wanted to survive. So I took it, thinking it was my only chance."
Her expression darkened, the memory clawing at her. "But then… then I saw him pull out a different pill; a green one. He looked me in the eye, swallowed it himself, and said he wouldn't make it. Told me to go, to save myself."
Carol paused, hhr face twisted with pain. "And like a coward, I ran. I didn't stay. I didn't even look back. And when I got home, I…" she trailed off, her voice breaking. Her breath came in shallow gasps, panic creeping in.
Luther watched, hanging onto every word. The mention of the red and green pills was crucial; one antidote, another for who knew what. His mind whirled with theories and possibilities. But then he noticed something alarming; Carol's breathing had grown ragged, labored. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed on the verge of hyperventilating.
Carol clutched her throat, gasping. "L-Luther, please… you have to… kill me. I can't… I don't want to become one of those things… not again!" Her voice cracked, desperate and pleading. "I don't want to hurt anyone… not Father… not Mother… not my little sister…"
A primal scream tore from her throat, broken by uncontrollable sobs. Her body tensed, her eyes rolling back, and she slumped, her muscles jerking and spasming. Beneath her skin, Luther saw something shift; something that should not have been there, writhing like a parasite between Carol's chest and abdomen, as though struggling to burst free.
Luther's breathing deepened, his mind steeling itself for what was coming. The pills Joseph had forced upon Carol had triggered something deep within her, something monstrous. Luther realized, with a chilling certainty, that Joseph had used Carol as a test subject. The red pill had altered her, the green pill had likely saved Joseph from the same fate.
But now was not the time for analysis. Carol's chest heaved, and the writhing form beneath her skin became more pronounced, pressing against her ribcage as though it could claw its way out.
Luther placed the jar down carefully, drew his dagger, and focused on the shifting bulge beneath Carol's skin. His eyes narrowed with grim determination.
Without hesitation, he plunged the blade down, aiming for the center of the writhing mass.
Carol let out a blood-curdling scream as the dagger sliced through her skin. From the wound, a sickening, twisted tentacle sprang forth, its surface lined with rows of serrated teeth, snapping hungrily as it whipped toward Luther's face.
But Luther was ready. He leaned back, dodging the snapping maw with practiced agility, and snatched the flailing tentacle with his gloved hand. As it thrashed in his grip, he drew his dagger back, slashing horizontally to sever the front end of the tentacle in one swift motion. It screeched as the cut was made, its severed end wriggling violently before finally going limp.
Luther studied the grotesque mouth at the tentacle's end, the jagged serrations opening and closing even in its death throes. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze hardening. Whatever Joseph had done to Carol, it was twisted and vile, and now Luther was determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein