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The Monster Within

By Evan Drake

Randal whistled as he drove down the road. The whistling helped take his mind off the trees flanking the dirt road. Nature was beautiful, but he preferred to admire it from a distance. Even looking around was enough to send a chill down his spine. The trees were tall and packed close together, making it hard to see into the woods beyond. It felt isolating, caging.

"Guess I shouldn't've watched all those horror movies," he mumbled. He then stretched as best he could in the confines of the driver's seat. After driving for two hours, his body felt stiff. "Seriously, this guy couldn't find a place to live closer to city limits?"

That was the price he paid for doing house calls. Ever since his business rival, Serge Warmund, went missing, his work volume had nearly tripled as all of the man's clients needed an electrician. The business would be good if half of his co-workers hadn't called out sick.

He looked at his reflection in the rearview. Heavy bags had appeared under his brown eyes from all the late nights, and his jaw had the beginnings of a short, uneven beard. He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "I seriously need a haircut and a shave."

Something ran into the road. He slammed on the brakes. The screeching tires hurt his ears, but he stopped just before hitting the person on the road.

Standing in the middle of the road was what appeared to be a dog walking on its hind legs, a kiman. He was completely naked, a coating of thick brown fur covering his body. But easily visible was the metal collar fastened around his neck that all kiman this side of the parks wore, marking him as a slave. The kiman stared at the van like a teen caught sneaking in after curfew.

Randal looked around for the kiman's owner but saw no one. He decided that could wait later and quickly hopped out of the van. It wasn't uncommon for people's slaves to be stolen and held for ransom, and he did not want to wait around for the pursuers to catch up. "Hey, are you all right?"

The kiman ran over to him, stumbling and face dripping with tears and snot. "Help me! He's after me!"

"Whoa, slow down. Who's after you?"

The kiman's eyes widened as his body trembled. He pointed at something behind Randal. "HIM!"

Randal spun around, but there was no one there. He felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and everything went black.

****

Randal slowly opened his eyes to a dim bulb overhead. Slowly, he sat up. The walls were filthy, but he was in a room of some kind. A very cramped one. If he stuck out his arms, he could touch both walls. The room stank of something that reminded him of an unwashed dog. The room lacked furnishings except for a filthy mattress and blanket in the corner.

There was a dull ache in the back of his head. He rubbed the sore area and found a painful knot there. He then patted his pockets only to find them empty.

"You're awake," a voice said.

Randal spun around. Leaning against the wall behind him was another kiman. At first, he thought it was the one who had attacked and kidnapped him, but this kiman had darker fur than the one who attacked him and he wore no collar. He also wore clothes. Dirty and disheveled, but it was better than nothing.

The kiman glared at him. "Is there a problem, human?"

Randal was still trying to get his bearings. "I...no. Who are you?"

The kiman flicked an ear. "You first."

"Randal."

His expression softened, though not by much. "Call me Ten."

"Ten?"

"Old nickname." He walked across the room, bumping Randal as he passed. "Now that you're awake, we can work on getting the hell out of here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Lemme guess: you saw a slave on the road, right? Naked, claimed to being chased?" Randal nodded and Ten growled. "Knew it."

"But why? Why is his master doing this?"

"I don't think he has one."

"What?"

"Look, I've been locked in here for at least a day. I haven't seen or heard anyone since I first woke up. I didn't even see when you were brought in. I just woke up and you were on the floor next to me."

Randal swallowed the lump in his throat. He still wasn't sure he could trust the kiman, but he was also low on options. "How do you know we can get out of here?"

Ten pointed to the door. "It's not locked. It leads to a hallway, but that door is locked. My guess is, it'll be open when everyone is here."

"How do you know that's what'll happen?"

"How do you know it isn't? Unless you have a better idea?" When Randal didn't respond, Ten added, "I don't plan on dying down here. So let's figure out how to leave already."

Like Ten said, the door to the room was unlocked and led to a long, brightly lit hallway. Unlike the room they were in, the hall looked quite inviting and comfy. Randal looked back at the room then into the hall again.

Ten strode forward confidently. Randal followed at a distance.

"So, uh, where's your collar?" Randal asked.

Ten stopped and shot a venomous glare behind him. "My what?"

"W-Well, you're a kiman....right? And kiman on this side are either slaves or going to be so they...you know..."

Ten rolled his eyes and continued walking.

The door at the end of the hall turned out to be unlocked as well. Ten turned back to Randal with a smile. "Finally, some progress."

The door led to another larger hall. Doors lined the wall on one side, the other side a single blank wall with no windows or decoration. Each door had been painted white, making it stand out even more against the brown of the walls and the wooden floor. The lighting had been arranged so a shadow was cast between the door frames, almost resembling a row of gaped teeth.

"Why are there no windows?" Randal asked.

"Likely, so no one can see what happens in here."

"That's...um--"

"Come on. We need to find the door that leads to the stairs or something. It stinks down here."

Ten went to the first door. Randal followed closely behind him. He felt like such a child cowering behind the tall, furry parental guardian.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It burned his eyes and made him want to vomit. Ten immediately slammed the door shut. They stood there for a moment, coughing and retching.

When the burning in Randal's nose and eyes stopped, he straightened up and said, "I don't think that's the way out."

Ten still kneeled on the floor, holding his hands over the end of his muzzle. "No shit."

"You okay?"

"My sense of smell is stronger than yours." He waved away the help when Randal offered a hand. "I'll be fine. I just need a moment."

While Ten took a moment to recover, Randal watched the end of the hall. Other than the sound of their heavy breathing, the whole area was quiet. It was unsettling.

He was glad when Ten finally straightened up and said they needed to move on. They ignored the other doors and went to the end of the hall. Just to the left, tucked into a small alcove was a brown door. From the other end of the hall, it had been impossible to see. Even standing right next to it, Randal almost missed it.

Without a word, Ten held a hand over his nose and opened the door. Randal braced his senses for the worst.

The stench was nowhere near as repugnant as before, but it still wasn't pleasant. Like before, this room was too dark to see inside. Randal didn't want to go inside, but Ten crossed the threshold and flicked a light switch.

A single lamp in the middle of the room came on, shining its beam onto a blood-stained table. Randal didn't want to look at it, but he couldn't look away. A man had been bound to the table, his upper-half stretched over its surface. From what he could see from the doorway, the man was middle-aged or close to it.

Ten calmly approached the body. "Holy fuck. His fingertips were removed."

Randal forced down the bile rushing up his throat. "How does this not bother you?"

Ten's ears fell. "Not important." He walked around the side of the table and his mouth fell open. "Oh...well...that's...um...yeah."

"What is it?"

"He's not wearing pants. Or underwear." He frowned and tilted his head. "Looks like his balls were cut off, and his asshole looks like it's been turned inside out."

Randal vomited.

"You did ask."

"I wish I didn't," Randal said between heaves. When he finished emptying his stomach, he stood up again, but he had to lean on the wall because he couldn't trust his legs.

"The ones who trained me," Ten said.

"What?"

"This message carved into the wall. That's what it says."

Randal continued staring at the floor. He couldn't risk looking at the body again. "I don't get it."

"If I had to guess, either this guy taught him all he knows or he's just doing what was done to him, only his victims don't get to live afterward. Looks like they were the lucky ones."

Randal backed out of the room. It felt like he was going to lose his stomach's contents all over again. Just thinking about it made his genitals hurt.

Ten tilted his head, one ear folding down. "What's up?"

"You mean...he's repeating his past experiences? How is that even a thing?"

"Do you have any idea what goes on in the slave training facilities?"

Randal slowly shook his head.

"Then I'm not gonna be the one to tell you. Short version: Shit like this"--he pointed to the corpse on the table--"is pretty common. The only difference is you wish they killed you."

Randal was grateful when Ten came out and closed the door, cutting off the sights and smells of the horror show. "You say it like you know."

Ten stopped, his ears flat. "Well, I used to be a slave. And you're right, it does take a depraved mind to do what they do."

They crossed the hall to a different door. Ten found a light switch and turn it on.

The lights were brighter than expected and made Randal shield his face until his eyes adjusted. When he lowered his hand, he wished he had been blinded. The ceiling had been fitted with a metal mesh and attached to the mesh were hooks. Hanging from the hooks were about ten human and kiman skins like macabre jumpsuits hung to dry on laundry day.

"What. The. Actual. Fuck." Randal said.

"There's another message written on the wall," Ten said. The message had been carved into the wall with some kind of sharp object, written in large capital letters. " 'The flesh that was taken from me.' "

"Wh-What does that mean?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Good point."

They were about to leave when Randal noticed a door at the far end of the room. He quickly crossed the room, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. "Please be the way out," he mumbled to himself over and over.

He fumbled with the doorknob on the door, but he managed to open it and quickly ran inside.

The other room was just as dark as the first. It took a moment of mindless fumbling to find the light switch. He held his eyes closed as the room was flooded with light.

Slowly he opened his eyes, making sure to look downward. Then he lifted his head. There was no metal mesh on the ceiling, no hanging furs or skins. He was about to let out a sigh of relief when he noticed the large shelf against the wall.

The shelf had been lined with hands, some covered in greying flesh, the others covered in fur. Scratched into the wall opposite the shelf was another message.

THE HANDS THAT HURT ME

"Well, that explains a lot," Ten said.

"Explains what? What kind of psycho cuts people's hands off because they hurt them? And how are you so calm about all this?"

"Kiman slaves have their nails removed so they can't claw at their masters."

"Are you saying a kiman did this?"

Ten shrugged. "What other explanation is there? Whoever did this is clearly off the deep end. It being a kiman makes sense. I don't think any of the ones who survive the training facility come out sane."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" The low growl in his voice was unmistakable.

"I'm not stupid, Ten. You said you were a slave."

His fur stood on end. "Yeah. I was."

Randal decided to drop the subject.

Another door waited on the other side of the room. Randal couldn't decide what bothered him more, opening it or returning to the hall which meant passing through the skin room again.

Ten crossed the room without hesitation. Randal followed again. It was that or be left alone, and that terrified him more than anything.

"So how'd you become free?" Randal asked.

"What?"

"Sorry. I'm trying to distract myself from...everything."

"Oh. Well, I can't trust you just yet, so I won't answer."

"We already know that crazed kiman is the reason we're down here, so what do you think I'm going to try to do to you?"

Ten hesitated at the door, his ears pulled back. "You know I used to be a slave. Do I really need to spell out why I distrust humans?"

Randal said nothing. Kimans were trained to be obedient through pain and fear. He had seen many of them beaten or whipped for disobeying their human masters. A lot of them burst into tears or outright pissed themselves at the littlest thing that could be taken as a transgression. He was surprised Ten could even look him in the eye. Most slaves didn't unless told.

They entered the next room. A large shelf occupied the entire left wall just like before only this one was lined with jars. Randal immediately faced the opposite wall.

Another message was carved into the wall.

THE EYES THAT JUDGED ME

"Well, I know what's probably in the jars now," Randal said, his stomach knotting again.

He noticed the way Ten's fur stood on end as he stared at the message.

"You okay?"

Ten tore away from the message and walked towards the exit. "No."

"Yeah, I mean, ripping someone's eyes out because they judged you? How fucked up are you to do something like that?"

"It's not about that. It's the principle of the matter."

"Principle? You sound like you're defending the guy."

Ten stopped and spun around. His eyes were full of so much smoldering hatred, Randal took a step back. "You don't know what it's like to have someone look at you like you're less than nothing."

"I don't see kiman as less than nothing."

"Oh? How do you feel when you see one being led on a leash? Or tied to a pole outside?"

"Well, I--"

Ten stepped closer, his tall form seemingly towering over Randal. "And how would you feel if it were a human on the end of that leash?"

Randal stared at the floor.

"I didn't think so."

"It's not that I think the kiman are beneath me. It's just...that's how it is."

"Sounds like an excuse to me."

"Well, what about you? I know the kimans have human slaves."

There was something in Ten's eyes Randal found unsettling. There was a hidden rage there that wasn't directed at him, but it still sent a shiver through his body.

"I fucking hate it." He snorted and his fur seemed to relax. "Forget it. We're wasting time arguing."

Randal quickly stepped into Ten's path. "Wait. I think we should go back. I mean, it looks like this is just a bunch of rooms joined together. It wouldn't make sense for the stairs to be this way." It was sound logic, but the truth was he just didn't want to see any more of the unique decorations.

Ten tilted his head. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing. You make a good point. Going through all of these rooms to get in and out would be a pain in the ass."

They headed back to the hall. Randal followed behind Ten, keeping his gaze to the floor. He didn't look up again until they were back in the hall. He didn't want to say it out loud, but something didn't feel right and it wasn't the creepy messages or the obvious signs of insanity.

The hairs on the back of his neck had been standing on end ever since they left the room they woke up in. Almost as if someone were watching them. But there were no signs of security cameras and no signals from the one who brought them here. The suspense was getting under his skin.

The moment they returned to the hall, Ten looked up and said, "Hey, what's that?"

Randal followed the kiman's finger and just barely could make out the outline in the ceiling. "It looks like a...is that a trap door?"

"That might be our way out. Here, boost me up."

Randal wanted to argue, but Ten was taller. He carefully braced himself to help give the kiman the extra height he needed to reach the trap door and pull it down. A ladder extended through the opening.

They both stood there, staring up at the dark entrance. Randal heard no sounds that their captor was alerted, but he preferred to leave the listening to Ten.

Eventually, the kiman gave the all-clear and ascended to the upper floor.

The room appeared to be a basement. It was much darker, but this room had small square windows where some light filtered through. Randal swallowed and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

"Hey, you okay?" Ten asked.

Randal shook his head. "What if we get caught? That sick bastard is going to drag us back down there, chain us down, and...and--" It made him feel nauseous. He held a hand over his mouth, but vomit still spurted through his fingers.

Ten jumped back. "I'm surprised you have anything left to throw up."

Randal wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "He's fucking with us! We're never getting out of here! Why is this happening to me? I never hurt a kiman in my life! I don't even have a slave!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Ten. "I get why you're here, but what did I do wrong?"

"So it's okay so long as they deserve it?"

"Don't tell me you don't wish you could have just five minutes alone with the people who tormented you?"

Ten's expression softened. "As someone who stood on both sides of the table, no, I don't. It's that kind of thinking that led to this shit in the first place. We're all monsters anyway. We just like to come up with different reasons to slaughter each other."

"I'm not a monster," Randal said firmly. "And what do you mean both sides of the table?"

"Oh, I, um..."

"You...used to be a slave trainer." He backed away, his face twisting in disgust. "All that bullshit about people being monsters and you're one of them!"

"And that changes things, does it?"

"Of course it does!"

"And me being a slave doesn't matter?"

"You got what you fucking deserved, you twisted bastard."

Ten sighed and shook his head. "I really hoped you would be different, but it looks like you're a monster just like all the others."

Randal's stomach plummeted to his toes.

"Figured it out, did you? I will say you lasted longer than the others did. I almost thought you would be different." He grinned, baring his fangs. "So I'll least tell you the story before you die."

Randal broke into a run, heading for the stairs.

Ten's voice called casually behind Randal. "I never lied to you. I did work at a training facility and I _did_have a change of heart and leave. But you know what they say, karma's a bitch.

"I was captured, dragged back here, and processed. Oh, they gave me such a welcome when they learned what I used to do."

Randal reached the top of the stairs and slammed his shoulder into the door. It flung open with almost no resistance, throwing him off balance. He staggered forward until he fell into the kitchen counter, a sharp pain lacing through his chest.

"I was finally brought by someone, and my reputation followed me." It sounded as if the kiman were right behind him. Randal didn't dare look back and bolted for the first exit he saw, the back door.

"As you can probably guess, my master enjoyed having a former slave trainer under his thumb."

Randal seized the knob and pulled with all the strength he had, but the door wouldn't budge. He noticed the deadbolt and swore. It was a double cylinder and wouldn't open without the key.

He heard Ten's footsteps on the stairs and ran for the other exit into the hall.

"He wasn't the only one, you know. Every human I met was cruel. No one had any sympathy for a kiman, especially not one that used to enslave humans."

Randal knew there was little reason to suspect the front door wouldn't have the same lock as the back door, but he tried anyway. Just like before, the door was bolted closed.

"You think my fellow kiman would be nicer, but not really. They've all had the fight beaten out of them and care more about saving their own skins. And given how much attention I attracted from the humans, they wanted nothing to do with me. Anyone who knew my name claimed they never met me in their life."

Randal checked the windows. Thick iron bars blocked them. He swore again and spun around. Ten casually leaned on the door frame leading into the kitchen.

"Have you tried the living room? Oh, and to your left, there's a den down the hall. Feel free to check that one, too."

"Fuck you!"

He chuckled. "That's all you got? Fuck you?"

Randal paced, keeping his eyes on the kiman. His heart hammered against his ribs as his mind raced with ideas. He was never a fighter and kiman had claws and fangs.

"Do you know the name Serge Warmund?"

Randal stopped pacing. "Yeah, he used to be my business rival. Then he suddenly disappeared a few weeks ago." His stomach sank as he remembered the man on the table.

"I know what you're thinking, and no, I didn't kill Serge." An evil grin spread across his muzzle. "Wish I did though. The kimans talk about him all the time, say he's a savior and how he stands up for us. Seriously, he's practically a god to them." The smile vanished as if wiped off his face. "You know what he said when he met me? 'How does it feel to be the one in the collar?' He had that look in his eyes. He was holding back, but I could tell he wanted to choke the life out of me."

"Of course he would. You used to torture humans and enslave them."

"Hey, I was just doing my job. I was never harder on any of the slaves than I needed to be. I knew a few who loved to torment the trainees. They got off on it, literally. This one asshole used to jerk off while he whipped them."

He walked forward. Randal backed away, but Ten easily matched his stride. "But it didn't matter if I was depraved. It didn't matter if I actually cared for the slaves under my care. It didn't matter that I only took the job because I needed the money." His voice and pelt rose with every word. Randal could almost swear the kiman was gaining height.

He felt something against his back. It was likely a wall, but wouldn't dare look away to see what it was.

Ten stopped just out of arm's reach. "I was passed around from human to human, sold off once they got sick of looking at my face or beating me senseless." He gestured to the room around them. "This house belonged to the last human who owned me, you know. He liked to live alone, but he also liked to 'entertain' guests. Kiman specifically. He made me draw them in, lure them back to the house, and then lead them into the basement."

He moved closer until Randal saw his frightened expression in the crazed kiman's eyes.

"He made me help a few times. 'Put those talents as a slave trainer to use' he said. He didn't get it either. All he saw was what he thought he should see. Just like humans, just like the kiman, just like you."

Randal fumbled for something, anything, that could be nearby. His hand closed around something round, but heavy. Not caring what it was, he swung his arm as hard as he could, smashing the object against Ten's face. The kiman howled and stumbled backward.

Randal rushed for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time.

The rage-filled yell easily carried upstairs. "I tried to help them, you know! I tended to their injuries, fed them, gave them water. I even tried to help them escape and you know what they did?"

Randal had no intention of answering the question if Ten. He ran into the first open door.

It was a bedroom but looked as if it hadn't been used in years. Everything had been neatly put away, giving it a lonely feel like a mausoleum.

He rushed to the window and found it locked but without bars. But at that height, he would break his leg if he jumped. He hurried back into the hall to check the other windows, hoping one of them was close to a tree or something he could use to climb down.

"When I woke up, I was tied down. My master was tortured first. They called him names, cursed him, laughed at him. Then they moved on to me. I thought they would let me go. But no. I didn't get it as badly as he did, but they left me to die."

The window in the bathroom was too small. Two more bedrooms had the same problem as the first. Ten's footpaws on the stairs grew progressively louder. Randal knew he was being toyed with.

"All their begging, cursing, and crying and they were no different. No one wants to say it, but we're all monsters. We're raised to be monsters, our system is destined to turn us into monsters. All we need is a reason. An excuse to justify showing our fangs."

Randal ran through the large house, checking room after room. Finally, he came into the final room in the hall. It was a study or some kind of art studio. There were papers and other art supplies scattered everywhere. Easily visible through the large window on the other side was a large tree branch.

Grabbing the nearby chair, Randal rushed across the room and hurled the chair into the window. A web of cracks spread across the surface, but it held.

"And you know what they also taught us to do to monsters? Put them down."

Randal spun around. Ten stood in the doorway, half his face a mask of blood and matted fur. The remaining fur stood on end, his ears were pulled back, and he wore a manic grin.

Randal grabbed a pair of large scissors lain nearby and held them out in front of himself like a sword. "Yeah, and what does that make you?"

"I never said I was better than the others. I just don't hide it anymore. I gave you a chance to prove you weren't a monster. Too bad you failed."

"D-Did I?" It was false bravado and he knew it. He couldn't even stop shaking.

"You did."

****

"Dammit, I think we're lost," Miranda said. She tapped the GPS on the dash then swore when the screen went black. "Great, this stupid thing has been leading us around." She sighed and looked out the window. The sun was setting. "And it's getting dark out. I hate riding at night."

"Calm down," Darius replied. "At least we're on the highway. We'll just pull off at the first exit."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to listen my sister bitch all weekend about how we got there late."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Darius mumbled.

"What?"

"I said, we can ask for directions at the next rest stop. Maybe they'll know a shortcut."

Miranda looked around the car, her mouth open in shock. "What? A man asking for directions?!"

"Very funny."

"It's definitely a first. Especially for you. Remember that time--oh shit!"

Something wandered onto the road. Darius slammed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt.

A kiman stood in the middle of the road, arms over his face. His fur was matted and filthy, and his clothes had been torn in several places.

"Miranda, call 911," Darius said as he hurried out of the car. Miranda grabbed her cell and followed.

Darius got there just before the kiman collapsed to the ground. "Are you all right?"

"I-I'm fine. I was being held captive by a madman. I just managed to escape."

Miranda spun around, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

"Help me get him into the car," Darius said. "Then we're getting the hell out of here."

Miranda rushed to take the kiman's other arm and led him to the back seat of the car. Once he lay on the seat, they climbed into the front and sped off.

"What's your name?" Miranda asked.

"My master called me Eleven."

"Eleven?"

The kiman smiled. "Old nickname."