Free The Queen of the Dead by Vincenzo Bilof Page B

Daddy.”
    She could only hope that he heard her through the headphones.
    He produced a large, serrated kitchen knife, and Mina realized Daddy wanted to be a little dangerous. She had felt the cold edge of the weapon against her throat before; he would make her beg for death.
    The knife was used to cut into the fleshy thigh of the man beside her.
    “Don’t worry,” Daddy said. “He’s a paraplegic. Poor man’s been hiding out here just waiting to die, and you’re going to help him, my silly girl. Keep your eyes on the camera. Don’t close them or I’ll show you what the monsters do. You don’t want that, do you?”
    “Don’t let the monsters come out, Daddy.”
    She could hear the knife grinding through flesh and the man’s violent scream through the duct tape.
    “I’m not hurting him,” Daddy said. “There were some drugs I found at the drug store that prove… quite useful. He will live for a while, but I want to get the most for my money. Besides, he won’t need his legs for anything.”
    When the sticky blood splashed over her face, she opened her mouth to let more of it in. She tasted it on her lips and tongue, and her body trembled. She closed her eyes, and then remembered what Daddy had said. She should know better than to disobey him. After wiping blood out of her eyes, she refocused on the camera.
    “Be a good little girl and eat the food I give you,” Daddy said. “I work hard to provide for you. Show me how grateful you are .”
    With eager hands, she reached up for the meaty leg. When she took a bite and allowed the warm blood to fill the back of her throat, she thought about Jerome and the pure relief he would have felt when he had his fix.
    A long time ago, Patrick had asked her if human flesh tasted like chicken.
    The gown was painted in red gore as more blood rained upon the bed. She held the leg with one hand and buried her face into her meal. With her free hand, she waved it through a puddle of blood as if she were swimming.
    “Eyes on the camera!”
    Daddy was still cutting; tears streamed along the victim’s cheeks. Mina chewed on tender flesh, thankful for the opportunity, pleased at how much Daddy was willing to care for her and see to all her needs.
    Ecstasy washed over her, a shower of gore that was endless. She met the camera lens, and when the ringing in her ears commenced, she remembered everything. The fateful day she betrayed Patrick and they were ripped from each other forever.
    Gravity failed and she slipped backward into freefall. Time and motion were stranded on the shores of reality as the presence invaded her mind again.
    Yes. You have been delivered to us. Your soul belongs to us. We are everywhere, in the flesh and the sin. The rancor and the lust. The disease and the cure. Through the lens of the unreal, the real is connected. Your nightmare is our fantasy.
    I don’t know you, Mina said.
    The dead are your gift. We have given them to you to match your desire. Murder opens your mind to us, and we can see you, but through the mirror, you can now see us. We are in you.
    A mirror? Mina asked. You need the reflection. But who are you?
    We are timeless, and beyond time. Share this reflection and open the world to pain.
    The world is in pain already, Mina replied. Someone watched the other video. The dead are everywhere, and I’m lost.
    You are found. You already know what you are. They buried it within your shell. You can find us there, waiting for you. We have always been with you. We are the dead. We are you.
    I’m not dead. Mina reminded the voice. I never wanted this! Just let me go!
    Observe.
     
    ***
    Mina was standing in a body that wasn’t her own.
    She knew it wasn’t her body because she could barely remember her name. She wasn’t Mina—she was “Rachel.” Rachel was pale and thin, with thick, red hair pouring out of her head. Scattered memories of blood and pain invaded Mina’s consciousness, and she found herself, or Rachel, staring at the man she