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Friday, 20 February 2015

Porcupine

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She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. She pressed her chest against his face and right then, as he indulged in his fantasies-come-true, she protruded her spikes - millions and millions of them from the pores of her skin. They were as numerous as the hair on a human's body, each as deadly as the tip of the spear. They pierced right through his body, at every surface of contact between them, the spikes from her chest puncturing his eyeballs and mincing his entire face. The needles erecting from her toned tight abs punctured his heart. He was immediately dead, and no longer recognizable - at least not the top half of his body. Her mission was complete. 

Porcupine. That was her call sign, given by her Saviour, the one who mutilated her. He found her in the morgue in Hueland Hospital. Her pale body was icy cold with splotches of purple. Yet, he could tell that she was beautiful. One with the ability to capture the hearts men and make their eyes burn with lust. Although she had breathed her last breath days ago, he was able to resuscitate her with the serum he created. For that, she was eternally grateful towards him and pledged her allegiance to him.

"Look like the innocent flower but be the serpent under it." He would always remind her before a mission. Just like how Lady Macbeth lured King Duncan into his own demise, Porcupine was well trained in enticing her targets into eternal slumber.  

After her first mission, she was disgusted at the frailty of human nature. She was convicted that she would never fall in love with a mortal man. She was appalled at how easily men would let their guards down in the light of satisfying their lustful desires. Her Saviour had assured her that such trickery would guarantee success. She was unduly jittery and uncertain until she saw it with her own eyes. The following missions were a piece of cake.

It was on her twenty-fifth mission that she saw him. She hadn’t noticed him at the corner of the bar, watching out for her with his peripheries. As always, her full attention was on her target – the middle-aged man with a handsome young face and a slight beer belly. She sauntered towards him, like a hawk hovering towards its prey before engagement. No words needed. Having rehearsed countless of times, she slipped her slender fingers down to his inner thigh. She thrummed them gently, in a consistent rhythm, to hint her interest. Aroused by such a sudden intimate motion, he gasped and looked up and was immediately put into a trance. She was impossible to resist. He was about to yank her out of her seat into a secluded corner when he stepped in. She rolled her eyes. Another distraction. She hated explaining that she was a willing party; it was embarrassing. Yet, he didn’t care. His grip was firm on her as he led her out of the bar, leaving him behind in frustration and bewilderment.

Time was running out. She had to get rid of him before she completely lost sight of her target. She had never failed a mission, not even when someone else tried to “save her”. And end up throwing himself on her…

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even trying to get close to her. Instead, he looked at her with a confounding amalgamation of disgust and pity. He wasn’t looking at her body; it didn’t bother him that the girl of every man’s fantasy was standing before his eyes. He was looking at her soul.

And that was when her heart – her frozen and mutilated heart - started pumping again. First a trickle; and then came the rapids that left her hyperventilating.

They started off with an ambiguous friendship, even though it was often difficult for her to draw a fine line between flirting and seducing. Seduction was her forte. And although she appreciated how he respected her body, she sometimes secretly hoped that he would let up in his self-control.

She was afraid that her Saviour would be disappointed in her. Yet, when her Saviour heard about him, he made no rebuttal except to warn her that he might not accept her for whom she truly was. Her Saviour loved her as a creator loves his creation. He held back any reproach he had for her first failed mission.

It was a matter of weeks that her infatuation transformed into a deep longing for him. As her desire for him grew, the harder it became for her to execute her missions. Her Saviour had convinced her again and again that seducing other men was work; yet, she felt like she was betraying not just him, but her own heart.

It was her last mission.

She walked towards her target in double time, anxious to get rid of him as soon as possible. She thrummed her fingers on his inner thigh rapidly. Annoyed, he turned and glared at her, only to be greeted by his Aphrodite - the goddess of beauty. Desperation overwhelmed him as he came to realise that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Within seconds, they were out of the public’s sight. Like a lion ready to rip its prey apart, he pulled her towards himself with monstrous aggression. “Ludicrously perfect,” she thought. She ceased the moment and her mission was complete.

A huge smile was spread across her face. It was over. It was all over. She could finally be true to him, and to herself. She cleaned up the mess and was ready to race back home – into his arms. But to her surprise, there he was staring at her in disbelief. Fear. Horror. He screamed but nothing came out. He turned his back to run as far away from her as possible but his legs gave way. Her arms ached to reach out for him, to embrace him and tell him that it’s okay. But she knew that it wasn’t. He would never love her. It didn’t bother him that the girl of every man’s fantasy was standing before his eyes. It horrified him that he was within the reach of a monster.

She stood there rooted the ground for what seemed to her like an eternity, contemplating on what she should do. Explain to him. Run away. Explain to him. Run away. She was on the brink of hysteria. And that was when she starting running. Sprinting. Towards him, and then right pass him.

She sprinted till her legs turned sore, became numb and finally gave way. She collapsed onto the ground, earnestly hoping that that was the end. In the moments of her grogginess, she wondered if he would have understood if she had the courage to explain herself. If he would still look at her soul instead of her body. If they had a future…

She smiled at the memories that could have been made if she had fought for them. If. But she didn’t. A huge grunt surfaced from the pits of her diaphragm, erupting into continuous and uneven sobs. She hated herself for being a coward. She hated the spikes that were attached to her body. It was her identity, and it saved her from death, but it robed her of the one and only thing she truly ever wanted.

She yanked out her spikes, one by one, murdering the monster that murdered her dreams.

It was impossible to pull all of them out. Before she could even remove a tenth of them, she was drowned in a pool of fresh blood. Yet, she stubbornly persevered in purging the part of her that she hated.

She was barely conscious when she heard the rapid footsteps of someone approaching. “Kailey, Kailey!” It was his voice. He was coming for her. Finally. She didn’t have the energy to look up to his face, but she was certain that it was he. She kept her eyes fixed on the navy leather shoes that were so familiar to her. She wished that they had arrived earlier. But it was all right. At least they were here. She fixed her gaze on them as they advanced towards her. She refused to blink. Refused to blink. The cold winter night took away her final breath along with its merciless breeze. Her gaze was still on them. 

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