Punishment Halls

Brennan knew just how stupid it would be to submit to panic, to potentially alert any of their neighbors with a disproportionately loud noise —a luxury he couldn’t afford considering his newly attained status as a killer. Stifling the scream that threatened to tear from his lungs, however, proved to be an insurmountable challenge.

Recoiling from his position, he bluntly kicked out with his feet, jolting backwards until colliding with the soft structure of the couch. His hands instinctively lashed out at the monstrous apparition, hurling the only weapon he had in his hands at the abomination —the hacksaw.

Eluding the improvised projectile proved no tall task for the insect-like creature, its elongated hind legs propelling it through the air in a blur of a motion, landing with unnerving poise atop the sofa’s armrest to face Brennan from its newfound vantage point.

“While one must adapt to the circumstances presented, your taste in decor, Brennan, leaves much to be desired.” Thin lips of a vaguely humanoid face continued to ridicule him in that disgustingly genteel tone, utterly at odds with its grotesque visage. “Though I suppose one cannot expect refined sensibilities from a tumultuous boy…”

>> “I would like to avoid following the footsteps of dearly beloved Beverly, if possible.” With a delicate gesture, it smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on its sleek exoskeleton, a grotesque parody of human mannerisms. “Certainly tragic… But then again, tragedy often begets opportunity, does it not?”

The thing resembled a giant-sized cricket, easily rivaling a small dog in sheer dimensions. Its chitin exoskeleton bore a sickly, nicotine-stained color, as if tainted by years of decay. Barbs and spikes covered its body in sharp contrast to the muted hues, their inky-black sheen glistening with an unsettling wetness.

At the front end of its elongated abdomen, segmented and ridged like some nightmarish millipede, a twisted mockery of a person’s face rested. Sunken cheeks and deep-set sockets framing eyes that were unnaturally human in shape and aspect, as if they had been ripped from some hapless victim and crudely grafted into that monster in defiance of all natural order.

“That’s it… Now I’m really losing it.” Brennan was no stranger to the mind-bending effects of psychotropics. Oscar had often introduced him to some strange new substance for the two of them to indulge in, much to Beverly’s chagrin. On numerous occasions, he had found himself overtaken by hallucinogenic trips and out-of-body experiences.

But never quite as viscerally vivid as this grotesque apparition now invading his reality with such a profound nonchalance He would have continued retreating from it, or perhaps even tried to kill it instead, if not for the fact that he could barely keep his hammering heart from escaping the confines of his chest.

“Who are… What are you!?” He demanded to know, scrambling for the small knife he kept tugged in his pocket —a paltry attempt to keep some distance and a semblance of defense from the creature.

Rather than acknowledge his threats or his palpable fright, however, that thing simply offered him a curling, condescending smile. One he would have normally reviled, if not for his dire need for someone, something, to wrest control away from his trembling hands.

“Is that question meant in earnest, Brennan-boy?” As if faintly amused by some mundane aspect of their interaction, the monster utilized a pair of oversized palps flanking its maw to groom its similarly large antennae, the entire animalistic ritual appearing supremely disturbing when filtered through those humanoid facial features. “Is there even a need to ask?”

“What… What do you mean by that?”

“Look inside yourself my boy.” As its speech slowed down to a skin-crawling pace, the weight of the creature’s gaze seemed to bore into Brennan’s very soul, sending cold shivers down his body. Certainly, reflected in the overgrown insect’s eyes, he found the twisted mirror-image of his own burgeoning insanity. “You already know who I am.”

“I… Already know?” Brennan’s voice trembled with disbelief. How could that be? Sure, he possessed many underappreciated talents, but extrasensory perception was not among them. And yet despite that, just as dictated by the monster, a name materialized within his mind, letter by letter, manifesting itself like an insidious intruder.

“N… Needle?” He muttered tentatively, his lower lips quivering at the implication of some unseen bond tethering him to this grotesque aberration.

“That’s right! Exceptionally done, compadre!” The mocking lack of seriousness in the creature’s tone was an intoxicating one. It was something the frightened young man needed like air to breathe —for maybe it meant that this descent into madness was not the sightless pit he feared. “But I shouldn’t be taken aback by your prowess.”

>> “You’ve always been too astute for lectures and conventional guidance, haven’t you?” Needle’s words carried a sinister undercurrent, sliding ever closer as its six legs twitched and scuttled in a slow tempo. “This whole Beverly debacle? Merely a minor impasse. You still retain that brilliant mind of yours, all you need is a gentle nudge in the right direction, and everything will realign itself.”

The creature's poisonous praise wormed its way into Brennan's psyche, tempting him to surrender to the seductive lure of its twisted validation. Yet, with each agonizing inch that Needle crept nearer, he felt increasingly like prey —a hapless creature ensnared in the predator's sights, awaiting the inevitable pounce.

"Now, Mr. Prodigy..." The monstrous cricket whispered with anticipatory glee, reveling in the tension before the kill. "Would you care to uncover the origins of my namesake?"

“Back off!” Brennan warned before Needle crept ever closer, his grip tightening on the knife as a feeble semblance of control. “I don’t need to know, and I won’t let you manipulate me with your lies either.”

Needle’s mandibles clacked in amusement, clearly aware of the fractures in Brennan’s false bravado.

“Lies? Oh, Brennan-boy, you wound me.” It crooned, tone dripping with feigned hurt. “Is that how you speak to someone birthed by… How did you so eloquently put it before?”

>> “An embrace of immorality?”

Brennan felt his handle on reality slipping by the minute as the creature recalled on his very internal monologues. So this thing was… A manifestation he had brought upon himself?

“You came… To torment me, right?… After what I did?” It made a twisted sort of sense. For as accidental as it might have been, what he had resolved to do out of desperation was as unforgivable as it was depraved.

“Torment?” Needle clacked back, chuckling darkly. “Oh, no, Brennan-boy. You misunderstand.”

>> “I’m not here to torment you. I’m here to liberate you.”

“But… I thought you…”

“I’m not some demon tasked to punish.” Needle interrupted before he could even formulate a rebuttal. “You and I, Brennan-boy, we are one and the same.”

>> “We share a connection deeper than words, stronger than existence itself.”

Needle's eyes glinted with predatory hunger, sensing Brennan's wavering resolve. The young man’s hand trembled, the knife’s edge wavering as he teetered on the precipice of surrender.

“Yet, digressing into matters of such superficiality would be a wasted effort at present. We are, after all, engaged in far weightier discourse.” As Needle continued, the trajectory of his gaze landed on the corpse still sprawled in his living room, a grisly subject that Brennan had been subconsciously avoiding since the monstrous cricket’s appearance. “Dwelling solely upon the past would be a mistake. No, we must look to the future, to the choices that lie before us.”

Brennan eyed the creature warily, sensing a veiled threat beneath its eloquent words.

"Choices?" he asked, his voice guarded. “What choice is there to make?”

"Why, the choice to cooperate, of course.” It replied smoothly, pinning Brennan with an unsettlingly intense stare. “Or to suffer the consequences of defiance. The decision, my dear Brennan, is yours to make.”

“So what if I don’t?” What little defiance remained it was poured into Brennan’s words, yet there was no longer any bite behind his facade. He was acutely aware, deep down, that he had already crossed a line from which there was no return —a realization that did not diminish the primordial dread that filled him at the thought of surrendering to Needle's machinations.

The repulsive creature, however, did not react with frustration or anger. Instead, it merely regarded Brennan with an unsettling calm, as if all his resistance had been foreseen and accounted for.

“Well, the way I see it… You can keep wailing in your suffering to your heart’s desire, get caught and imprisoned…” Needle narrated as if it was no one’s business, at least until his human eyes glinted with malevolent promise. “Or you can let me take control… And I promise you, Brennan…”

>> “Everything will be just fine once more.”

Brennan's breath was momentarily caught in his throat, the weight of Needle's words bearing down upon him like a suffocating shroud. The creature wasn't pushing, it wasn't forcing him —and that was what made its offer all the more insidious.

“Right, all fine.” Brennan scoffed with sardonic intent, his voice straining against Needle’s pull. “And you were speaking about cooperation, weren’t you?”

>> “Then? What do you want from me?”

Despite his undeniable and growing need to give in to the oversized insect’s whims, Brennan was still searching for any hint of deceit in Needle’s demeanor. Beneath the veneer of forced sophistication cloaking his cryptic words, he could still identify a morbid hunger burning in those unsettling eyes. Even more than that, there was a nagging feeling that he was being played as a pawn in some twisted game whose rules remained maddeningly elusive.

Still skeptical, the young man steadied himself, bracing for whatever dark bargain lay ahead.

“Oh, I merely seek some… Fuel, so to speak. Nourishment. Sustenance.”

“You want… food?” Brennan couldn’t help but question in disbelief. It sounded almost ludicrous, that a monster had invaded his life solely to request a meal. “What is it that you want to eat?”

Of course, he never expected Needle to ask him for stale leftovers inside the fridge… But even with that mental preparation…

“This time, given that it’s your first time… I’ll make it uncomplicated for you, Brennan-boy.” Needle’s mandibles parted in a grotesque facsimile of a smile. “I shall simply partake of something from your departed girlfriend here. That’ll suffice.”

The creature’s utterance hung in the air like a malevolent fog, its full implications taking root in Brennan’s mind with excruciating slowness. His gaze flickered from Needle’s twisted visage to Beverly’s lifeless form, the pieces falling into place one by one with dawning horror.

“You cannot be serious.” He exhaled, a wave of revulsion twisting his gut. “You intend to… Eat her?”

“It’s a trivial exchange for the bliss I offer, is it not?” Needle countered smoothly, utterly unfazed by Brennan’s visceral reaction. “A mere trifle compared to the unfettered freedom that awaits you.”

Brennan recoiled as if struck, his grip tightening around the knife as he brought it dangerously close to his temple, clutching at his hair.

“This is just… Insanity.” He stammered, shaking his head in denial. “I shouldn’t… We can’t!”

“Cannot?” Needle echoed, his elegant tone laced with sardonic amusement. “Or will not? Come now, Brennan-boy, don’t be coy. You were already mutilating the poor girl inside your head before I chimed in with a superior alternative.”

>> “Don’t you dare play the innocent with me. I know your true nature.”

The words, added with such a grim certainty, chilled Brennan’s blood to an icy degree. It was an accusation he couldn’t deny.

“Think of it. No more guilt, no more restraint.” Perhaps sensing his impending submission, Needle resumed its predatory advance, sidling ever closer as each silken syllable coiled around his fraying psyche. “Just the untrammeled pursuit of your deepest desires, free from inhibition. A euphoric realization of your authentic self.”

>> “To cast off the shackles, to be unburdened by consequence or morality. With my help, you can transcend such petty concerns, Brennan.” Needle just… refused to relent, mercilessly pressing further and further against his already flimsy resolve, crumbling beneath the creature’s psychological onslaught. “Isn’t that what you’ve always craved? The liberty to live as you truly wish, unfettered by the expectations of others?”

His ego was already fragile from the outset. Even as a part of him vehemently refused to sign such a devilish deal, the larger one found itself inexorably seduced by Needle’s profane offering.

“All you have to do…” Needle whispered directly into his ear, having already crept its way up to his shoulders. “… Is to let me in.”

“But what if there’s… No way back?” There was bile rising in his throat. He felt sick, on the edge of puking. “What about my humanity?”

To resist Needle was to cling to the tattered remnants of his volition, to struggle against the tide of darkness that threatened to consume him… But to surrender was…

“Humanity?” Needle chuckled, the sound making Brennan’s eyes tear up in defeat. “My dear boy, you’ve already lost that.”

>> “The true question is… Will you give yourself willingly and spare yourself the agony? Or will you wage a war you cannot possibly win?”

The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a death knell. Brennan's shoulders slumped, all resistance draining from his body as the enormity of his circumstances crashed down upon him like a suffocating avalanche.

At that instant, he realized with nauseating finality that he had already journeyed too far down to feasibly turn around. Yes, the option presented by Needle was about survival, of self-preservation at any cost —no matter how high the price imposed on his soul.

With a trembling hand, he let the knife slip from his grasp, clattering to the floor in surrender.

“Please… No more.” Brennan’s voice was little more than a hollow rasp. He was utterly and thoroughly defeated. “I accept… Do anything you want.”

Thoughts of ending his own life had crossed his mind barely moments ago, but he was forced to admit that he did not possess the courage to see such an act through. If this twisted pact with Needle was to be his ultimate undoing, then so be it —at least the burden of choice would finally be lifted from his shoulders.

“You’re doing the right thing, Brennan-boy.” A low, rasping voice laced with malevolent satisfaction emanated from Needle’s grotesque maw, as it extended one of its spindly legs gesturing for him to proffer his arm. With trembling hands, he complied, rolling up the sleeve of his oversized hoodie to expose his pale flesh, littered with prior markings. “As I knew you would.”

The cricket then leaned forward, its mandibles parting in an unnatural wideness that seemed to defy the boundaries of its physical form. Brennan gasped silently as he beheld the sight within that cavernous abyss —a single, impossibly large needle, gleaming with ominous intent.

It was rusty and stained with a sickly brown hue, the tarnished surface evoking the memories of syringes used and reused multiple times. A visage he was far too accustomed to, for such evil tools had littered his bathroom waste bin on more occasions that he cared to recall.

Brennan’s eyes narrowed as they fixed upon the abominable proboscis, taking in the true form waiting at the end of Needle’s promises.

A thick, viscous liquid oozed from the tip of the pointed sharp edge, a ghostly iridescent purple fluid that seemed to pulse with an unnatural, eerie glow, as mesmerizing and repugnant in equal measure. Each droplet that trickled down carried a pungent aroma —a sickly sweet scent intertwined with undertones of vinegar and decomposition. He couldn’t fathom what such an abominable substance would do to his system once it invaded his body, but he diverted his thoughts elsewhere by force.

Beverly’s lifeless form remained sprawled there as a shell devoid of the vivacity that once graced her features. A pang of remorse cut through the resignation that had enveloped Brennan’s mind, and he bid her a silent farewell —a final, wordless apology for all the mistakes that led him to this point of no return.

The acute pain of Needle’s proboscis piercing his flesh caused him to clench his fist tightly. With a gentleness that belied its abundant malevolence, however, the monstrous creature guided the tip to puncture one of the countless and messy injection marks that marred Brennan’s forearm.

But no prior experience could have prepared him for the myriad of sensations that followed.

It was like an alien presence, viscous and palpable, igniting his veins ablaze from within as it gnawed and corroded the tissue walls around it, displacing his blood in a needy race to surge through his system and contaminate every corner it could reach.

Brennan groaned through gritted teeth, tensing his muscles as he tried to withstand the initial agony. It felt as though his body was being dissolved from the inside out, every fiber in the path of the foreign substance undergoing an abnormal, excruciating metastasis.

Through the haze that distilled his consciousness amidst the torment, brief shocks of lucidity punctuated the madness, scattered moments of clarity that allowed him to hear Needle's rasping laughter echoing in the background. The sound seemed to dilate and expand, blending dread and comfort into a dissonant harmony that reverberated through his very being.

This was his deliverance, the blanket of oblivion he so desperately sought after.

As the unholy communion between Brennan and Needle continued, the last remnants of his former self began slipping away, bit by bit. The boundaries of his consciousness and the realm beyond blurred, reality itself melting within the distorting corruption.

Colors and shapes bled into one another, the edges of the world fraying and unraveling before his mind’s eye. His hold on the linear progression of time became warped, each moment simultaneously and an eternity and a mere flash, collapsing into an ephemeral perpetuity. He was adrift in a sea of sensory overload, a kaleidoscope full of sounds vivid in colors, and sensations enraptured with melodies that defied plausibility.

Pain and fright were just distant memories of the past, his identity being rewritten as he became one with the cosmos, touching the very essence of ecstatic divinity. Guilt? Remorse? All such mortal constraints evaporated in an instant, replaced by a sense of complete enlightenment, and the freedom that accompanied it. None of those trifling emotions held any power over him anymore, mere echoes of a life he had transcended.

He was calm and joyful, swimming on the vast currents of the interwoven universe, his consciousness a mere vessel for the higher forces that now communed with him. He laughed, he danced, and he orgasmed —How many times? Who cared to count?

Like emerging from a chrysalis after a long metamorphosis, his eyes were alight with euphoric insight. There was only the shared hunger, the primal craving that could only be sated by fulfilling Needle’s demands, now unlocked for him to understand and conduit, beyond trivial matters like madness or sanity.

Inside the vibrant cosmos that dressed him, a feast was served to both him and Needle, one composed of the dismembered remains of his former self, mirrored within the features of a mortal girlfriend now rendered completely irrelevant. It was as though neither of them were human anymore, unworthy of consideration for his superior cognizance. Those flesh constructs were nothing more than stepping stones, one of the many sacrifices he was willing to make in pursuit of completion and perfection.

Needle extended an invitation for him to enter its church of decadence and fornication, one he accepted with the grace of nobles and royalty, as they feasted together in degeneracy.

For in that fleeting moment, Brennan Palisade was no longer —there was only bliss, tearing, hacking and slashing. He could rip everything apart with his teeth and bare fingers alone. It was easy, he was strong.

It felt good.

And so he ate, gorging upon godhood itself.