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.