Trigger Warning: Violence, murder, body horror, manipulation, sexual assault
ENTRY I:
Today she took me out on an adventure: one of those things where you go out, kill somebody, stuff them in the trunk, and take them home to dissect their innards. Some say murder is bad, Ego says it’s necessary. I don’t care who’s right, as long as it’s not me on the other end of the knife.
The adventure went somewhat well, by my standards. But Ego sets her standards a little differently. She put a knife to my throat and told me I needed to be faster with the hacksaw. Fuck that, I let her cut me to see if she would. She cut an inch above my carotid. I bled like a fountain, but I was satisfied in knowing she has a reason to keep me alive for the time being.
We got in the Trigger- her car with the false floors- and took the freeway home. This is when I feel alive. When I let my hair whip around in the gusts generated by Ego’s speed machine, I feel like I know exactly what my purpose is. I started to see something vivid, like a movie playing in my head.
I was in some college kid’s basement, who looked like he went to an art school. He kicked this machine, a sound board maybe, and I started playing on a guitar. It was a half-decent Gibson knockoff that sounded like grinding bones against the teeth of a saw, but the kid seemed into it.
He started talking to someone whose face I couldn’t quite make out. I couldn’t exactly figure out what they were saying to each other either, but I heard parts of their conversation:
“...ga...finished with his parts, do you wanna...Boogie’s should be open late as usual.”
“Yeah, of course, but our dad...and g... gotta catch the train in the morning.”
I think the guy the art student was talking to is important to me somehow. This may have been more than just a daydream.
I’ve gotta hide this from her. She won’t like it if she reads it. I’m not sure why, but that’s what my gut is telling me. If Ego found this, I think I’d be dead.
ENTRY II:
I made a fucking mistake.
I asked Ego about the daydreams I’ve been having and she injected me with tranquilizer. I woke up but knew to keep my eyes shut. I wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. My body was strapped down to a table, and I felt a steady pain. If I could manage to get an idea, I wanted to know what she was doing to me, but my mind was muddied. Then I felt everything go numb.
There was another dream. At least, I remember having one. But when I came to, my mind was completely blank and my body felt uneasy. Ego was gone, so I put a pen to paper and tried to remember anything I could about my dream, even a feeling. I got a couple of vague sketches, but nothing I could put any meaning to. There was one letter I couldn’t stop writing:
“M”
ENTRY III:
Weeks have gone by. I almost forgot about this journal. I felt it inside my coat pocket this morning when I reached for my gun, and was compelled to read it later. These past inkings feel like some type of fictional narrative, but I trust myself to know they’re real. What are they if not past-life experiences?
ENTRY IV:
Today I was tasked with taking an inventory report. I used to think I had a strong stomach, but now I know better. It was a mistake to laugh at her when she offered a waste bin before I entered her freezer.
First, it was the smell. She said to expect something pungent, but she grossly underestimated the matter. It smelled completely alien (which is more accurate than one would care to think).
Second were the usual unpleasantries that greeted me: various portions of the human body, dissected and categorized. I had almost grown immune to the sight of them, but the head collection disturbed me. It was like those sad videos vegans have you watch. They put a face to the meat. I’m thinking of going vegetarian.
Third, where my stomach abandoned me, was the thing tucked unassumingly against the back wall. It was dark green in complexion, covered in since-withered amphibious scales. Its eyes stared forward, yellow and clouded, and its red mouth hung open. I was hesitant to approach the wall, superstitions running wild in the back of my mind. I stared at the creature for some time, almost in a trance. When I glanced briefly to the left I saw the back half of the creature, perfectly sliced, revealing it’s grotesque arrangement of innards. I promptly vomited on my shoes. I shakily checked “Green Man” off my inventory list. Everything was in order.
ENTRY V:
I want to find the words, so I ought to start writing.
She touched me. I couldn’t stand it, but she touched me. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no. Her hand moved from my chest, down my abdomen, and into the waistband of my jeans. I just watched her, speechless. It was a flash of physicality from then on. There was a battle between us, but no matter the outcome, I’m the one who lost. She has complete control over me. I can’t stand it. But the adrenaline rush and bodily sensations made my common sense go numb.
This has gone too far.
ENTRY VI:
I’m working to remember my life before Ego. There is something there that will give me agency over her, or any agency at all. I just know it. The only problem is once it’s forgotten, it’s hard to remember your past.
ENTRY VII:
She was driving down the freeway, down the Jersey Turnpike, so late into the night that we were completely and utterly alone. The wind blasted my face as I stared out the window, silent in thought. The stink of the city hit me and I began to have a vision.
My brother and I sat on a couch in our basement. I knew this information the way you know someone’s face in a dream: pure instinct. A small static television sat across the room, casting a faint glow. There was crackling audio from a busted speaker. It was movie dialogue, but I couldn’t fathom what we were watching.
“To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious…
…there are far worse things awaiting man than death.”
I stared at the blank screen, trying to remember where I had heard the line before. But the more I strained myself, the more I was tugged out of my vision. I had to let it go. Besides, there were other details to search for. I couldn’t make out my brother’s face, but his hair was combed into a distinctive swoop. I felt myself speak, compulsively. Our exchange was clouded and hazy.
“M… Do you know what t… mom is gonna be pissed!”
“Don’t worry, Gary… fuck.”
He sat with his arms crossed, frustrated. I felt myself grow sad, but I couldn’t figure out what he said to alter my mood. My heart deflated. I could tell this brother meant a lot to me. Suddenly, the television called out.
“Remember M-”
I came out of the vision with a slight gasp. Ego was tugging at my sleeve, urging me to get out of the car. We were back at her lair.
How long had I been out for? I didn’t have the gall to ask her.
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