chronoSprockets

  Suicidal Ideation, gore + violence

  [colpse]

  Sunday comes after a blur of ignorance to my life- no, not my life. The life he controls me to have. At the crack of dawn, Dawson heads out to church while I make my Mum food she will not touch.

  Then I have nothing to do but follow my task list. I think of going into Infinite Fun for one st time but do not in the end, I don't need to worry them or search for one st scrap of fleeting pleasure.

  Kes will hate me for it but it's okay, and Four will miss her old friend but I don't need her pity anymore. Any of the others have probably been focused on other Kimmys for far too long to mourn me.

  My hatred for Dawson I find wilted and cold. Where once I wished to strip his skin now I would just like to see him disappear off the map, where no one would ever see or remember his sick twisting face again.

  I think I let my anger die intentionally. I didn't want to be like him, his anger was directed at me and brutal and raw. I am nothing like Dawson and do not wish to have murderous fantasies anymore. His words are cruel and I am just still now.

  Live or die; it is not in my control anymore. Still, if my fist got to feel the sick crunch of his skull I would not compin.

  My Mum stays in bed all morning on her phone and I wish I could tell her the truth, I am about to die and I am Erin and I killed your son but I hope you could still love me as your daughter and I'm sorry for not being able to be loved right.

  No. I should just let it happen.

  My routine would be to shower and eat a slice of stale bread but I will not today; it's comforting to realise I don't have to take care of myself anymore. I just wait by the rge table made of ste in the garage waiting to be disposed of. The garage will be my tomb.

  When I first came back online I was scared. I couldn't tell I was Erin, and I was malfunctioning and had all the wrong dimensions. Now that I am about to go offline again I have corrected all those issues. Good.

  I have even cimed a life to bring down with me.

  All is okay but a twist of fear deep within me, that I worry could ignite into the same wrath Dawson will enact upon me. I'm uncomfortable with it, because comparing myself to Dawson is like comparing myself to his son.

  -----

  I am informed that his SUV is en route to the driveway a minute before it arrives, good. There is a buzzing from a Kimmy at the back of my sponge, not good. It's unimportant.

  Dawson walks into the garage. His dark beard has not been trimmed for days and his eyes are as sharply violet as they have always been. I do not pity him but he has a hard job to do today, it would not be fun to kill me I think.

  He eyes me suspiciously and saunters over to his toolbox; from it he grabs a wrench that bears a dent I remember from when I was dissassembled. It feels like so very long ago I bore my old eyes into his son as he lost his virginity, wracked with guilt in this very room.

  Another buzz from a Kimmy, it's ignored.

  "Alright Kimmy. Time to strip you down for parts and end this tryst eh? You'll finally get your penance, not that you have a soul to go to hell with."

  He smacks the head of the wrench against his calloused hand.

  "Any st words before I finish the job for good this time?"

  "No."

  A stronger buzz from a Kimmy, ignored.

  He rolls up his sleeves and walks up to stand an entire foot over me, then he raises his wrench and- I feel a slight burn at the back of my neck. My head twitches and Dawson pauses his swing.

  A familiar sensation to distant previous attempts to save me, although with a slight bit more burn. Nothing happens. The die of fate has been cast and I have lost, yet again.

  "Weird twitchy thing today aren't you? First you get into position in front of my workstation like you want me to scrap you and now this. Kimmy, don't do that again. Die still."

  Out of compulsion, I make a note to not do that again and to die still. Buzzes from multiple Kimmys assault my temples and I ignore them all.

  He crosses himself with his left hand and whispers "Lord please forgive me, for this is for my wife."

  Then he lets loose a wild swing and it the tip of the wrench hits my front-

  -but my neck is assaulted with a sharp shock and burn and I colpse to the floor unable to move. Out of reach of the full force of his swing.

  He looks at me in confusion and pces the wrench down on the table, then he crouches and stares over me.

  A bang against the door, a thud against gss: I am reminded of an urge I once had to answer the door for someone and temporarily disable the arm causing my temples to tingle. Good, I'm helping. There is a lightness that has entered my body.

  Out of morbid curiosity I reach with one of my fingers and it twitches, like a bde of grass in some far away sunlit Meadow, it twitches ever so slightly.

  The distinctive sound of gss breaking can be heard- Dawson grunts and walks out and dips his head into the hall.

  "Get the fuck away from my property dy! I will bash your head in if you take even one step into my house."

  Another finger twitches, then another and soon my whole hand is twitching and it's of my own volition. A completely alien sensation.

  For the first time in months I feel hope. I instinctively reach to dash the hope befor- I raise my other hand up to my head and woozily lift it up while the back of my neck stings.

  Dawson turns around and looks back at me, he picks up the wrench and looks at me anxiously. He's stuck on what to do between me and whoever's at his door breaking gss.

  Kimmys buzz me more. I let one in and it hurts my temples to do so but I have to; I adore her beyond measure and would shrivel of sadness if she could not see me in my final moments.

  -Erin please say you're there.

  --Hello?

  -Did it work that time?

  --Did what work?

  -Emancipation.

  I sit up, rigid and my vision spinning. Dawson looks like he has seen a ghost and I can see zoom in and see sweat acculumating on his hands and making the wrench grip loose.

  There's the sound of someone trying to get a door open. Whoever it is will most likely approve of this scene when it ends with my death.

  Dawson cocks his head to me and comes at me wildly, one final time. I'm ready; so I embrace him.

  -----

  -Erin please, I love you.

  -Come back to us, we need you.

  I should die but something kicks in within me.

  It's not the anger of Dawson ignited within me; but the anger of a woman who is fucking done with this garage and the man who put her there. It's a deep love I forgot I had that pulls me out of the inertia, I don't know where it comes from. My leg wildly swings out with a jitter and Dawson is floored and cracks his knee on the concrete. He yowls.

  He's in pain. Dawson Chambers is in pain.

  I start ughing wildly hearing my voice properly for the first time in months- it's beautiful. Then I try to stand up with my legs and a wave of nausea hits, I steady my arm on the table and stare down at him. He's scared of me. He's scared. I never thought this day would come.

  I start giggling again, I just can't help myself. The door clicks and I hear footsteps but I do not care for them, it's coming true finally.

  My body is already rushing down on top of Dawson and jerking him up and pressing him onto the garage table. It's not as fluid of a motion as it could be but it's better than nothing. He is flesh and bone, I am muscle and pting. The footsteps are right behind me and they're running towards the kitchen but they don't matter to me anymore.

  All that matters is Dawson Chamber's heaving body spyed out on the table in front of me.

  "KIMMY! I ord-" Pathetic. He's always been so pathetic. He's exerted his control over me so pathetically, someone with more common sense about what I so obviously want to do to him would have decommissioned me the day he first saw me.

  My first punch hits ste and there is an audible crack. I can sense nothing but a low current of euphoria spread through me as I pull my bloody strong hand from deep inside a now gaping chest cavity in Dawson. I ugh more and more, it's infectious. The feeling ripples through my chest like a comforting warmth.

  So I do it again.

  Again and again and again and again and again and again!

  I punch and shatter and smash my elbows into him. He hurts and spurts blood and yowls, the ste screeches and crunches in a discordant symphony. My leg shakily arches up and I smash my pumped foot into the table below his spinal cord. There is a panicked shriek behind me; I don't pay attention to it, I just rain blow after blow on the man who has caused me endless misery for twenty whole years. The man who killed me almost two years ago.

  My finger joints have blood & pulp in them and I've never felt more vibrant, it's almost as good of a feeling as when I first saw myself again in the mirror. This time it's punchy and intoxicating though, it's a final judgement flowing through me and I should have done it years ago.

  I let my voice out properly and scream wordlessly at him. Violence pounds back and forth until I raise my fist to punch and see there is nothing worth punching anymore; all his bones are broken in his torso and all I can make out is a bloody pulp that oozes out of where his face used to be.

  I'm stunned into silence for a few seconds.

  "Good job Erin. You did it, didn't you? I killed him. I'm free." I let it go, it's over. My muscles rex and uncoil and I hear feet rushing down the stairs. I'm avenged and it doesn't feel hollow; I just feel more alive than ever.

  What do I do now? I hadn't thought past this part.

  I beam and look over my bloodied hands with glee, then I turn around and see Amber holding my Mum's best pan-----

  chronoSprockets