The Empty Mirror
Chapter 48: Gangrene
The liquor, once amber-hued and intoxicating, was surreptitiously imbued with poison by the cunning hands of Dougal, who, in a subtle display of guile, seized a fleeting moment of inattention among those gathered in the dimly lit cabin. With malevolent dexterity, he poured the pusillanimous poison into the liquid substance, knowing it was his final card, his last resort before the abyss. Aware that he had no more options left, Dougal took his final sip before the nefarious betrayal, allowing Esme and Hilda, enveloped in a whirlwind of helplessness and intoxication, to succumb to the lethal nectar.
And I, caught in the midst of their ignominious schemes, found myself inexorably dragged towards the abyss of death. Esme, in her deranged torment, forced me to ingest the poison alongside them, tormenting my body with every insidious sip, while her cruel hand tore strands of my hair. But Dougal, the architect of this macabre charade, did not deign to taste the deadly brew he himself had tainted. He opted for this treacherous method of annihilation for his loved ones, perhaps to avoid the weight of guilt that would come with the direct contact of his blood-stained hands. He chose to let divine severity decide his ultimate fate.
The poison, insidious and accursed, unleashed its fatal toll with a perversion as unprecedented as it was abominable. Its lethality was almost instantaneous, a curse that descended mercilessly upon its unfortunate victims. But most execrable of all was its grotesque manifestation, an abjection that would make even the most insensitive bones tremble. That nectar of damnation, liquid and dark as death's own shadow, insinuated itself with stealthy avidity into the most remote recesses of the body, weaving its deadly web of desolation and ruin.
With its malevolent dexterity, the poison paved the way for a tangle of protrusions in the abdomen and skin lacerations in the intestines, infecting every wound with its corrosive and lethal venom. From the depths of the entrails, the stomach and intestines were consumed in a vomitous orgy of gangrene and putrefaction, while the agonising body writhed in the indescribable torment of its own decomposition. Vomiting, a catharsis of blood and black mud, dragged along fragments of flesh and traces of stomach acids, a grotesque offering to the dark abyss that engulfed them. But the terror was not limited to the interior of the body; from the outside, a searing fever consumed the skin, turning it into a desolate landscape of gangrene and despair.
The hands, the face, and every corner of the body were invaded by necrosis, a dry gangrene that turned the skin into rigid leather as black as the darkest night. The slightest movement threatened to trigger amputation, while the flesh reddened at the edges, heralding the inexorable arrival of doom. Internally and externally, the poison consumed everything in its path, leaving behind a trail of desolation and hopelessness.
Meanwhile, my bewilderment grew as I watched Esme and Hilda consumed in agonising torment, while I remained inexplicably unscathed. Every moment, I feared it would be my last breath before my body succumbed to the horrendous gangrene that consumed them. Something protected me, an implacable force that delayed the effect of the poison. Luck or perhaps divine interference conspired in my favour. Meanwhile, Dougal embraced Hilda's body with indifference, lamenting only the loss of a voluptuous body now decomposed. Hilda exhaled her last breath as she fixed her gaze on the one who had hurt her the most, the one who had taken everything from her.
Esme, close to me, struggled to crawl towards her mother, but her joints were slowly rusting and gangrenous. I watched her suffering with compassion, wishing to save them and flee with them, although I knew it was impossible. I slid beside Esme, my eyes blurred with tears falling onto her face and lips, begging that her last breath not be extinguished amidst infamy and pain. I held her trembling, my nails slightly corrupted by gangrene.
As she burned in a gut-wrenching fever, her gaze met mine, saddened by her torment. I recognised the remorse engulfing her as I accompanied her in her misfortune. Her corrupted hand reached out to my face, both of us immersed in tears, subjected to the vices consuming us. She failed to reach my countenance and fell near my chest, this time without malice or morbidity. Esme, in an almost imperceptible gesture, brushed against my breasts, shuddering with horror at my own affliction. In her final breath, she may have uttered a "forgive me," crying more intensely for my misfortune, seeking possible redemption in her last moments.
She fades away. Esme dies in my arms, and the vomit of her internal gangrene spills from her mouth. I lament her fate, believing that I too would suffer. Farewell, Esme. I deeply regret your downfall and my inability to save you. I forgive you for your wicked actions, though they caused me pain. I would have been your friend, your confidante, but fate did not will it so. Nevertheless, I grant indulgence, though I still mourn you. However, I cannot forgive a man with a blonde wig. Never that.
Hilda also succumbed, amidst agonising gasps, perhaps, just perhaps, repenting in her final moments. But I cannot say for certain, I only know that her departure was horrific, her face almost unrecognisable due to gangrene. In my heart, I mourned her death and forgave her as she had not yet materialised her passions and voluptuousness. Then, Dougal, gazing at Hilda's corrupted face, rose, wiped away the tears of his loss, and approached Esme's body, which I clung to desperately. He pushed me aside with a blow, making me fall backwards, my dress now stained with filth. For a moment, he looked at me, and after also lamenting Esme's death, he snapped: "Didn't Esme offer you a drink after the alcohol was already contaminated?" I remained stunned by the scene, not responding, while Dougal continued: "Perhaps your stomach wasn't acidic enough."
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I was afforded the opportunity to ponder the workings of that poison, allow me then to give it a name: "Agonal Breathing." There is no need to explain why, for it was the last thing I glimpsed on Esme's face. It seemed that the poison activated like a red button upon contact with the gastric acid of the stomach. Esme and Hilda had consumed tea, but above all alcohol, which increases gastric acid production, causing symptoms such as heartburn, indigestion, and discomfort. This meant that both had sufficiently acidic stomachs.
Fortunately or by the decree of fate, my stomach was not as acidic. Esme, in her disdain, compared vinegar to the colour of the liquor they were drinking and, as a mockery towards me, forced me to drink it. Despite its acidic taste, vinegar actually can help balance stomach pH, having an alkalising effect. This made my stomach slightly more alkaline and did not allow the poison to act fully; on the brink of the precipice. However, the poison, "Agonal Breathing," could end me in the same gangrenous manner as them. Its effect was delayed, but it would act slowly, allowing bumps to form in the stomach. This knowledge, thanks to my medical education on internal gangrene, if it functions similarly. I am not a doctor and lack sufficient knowledge; I am only a woman of letters. Therefore, death for me would come later, perhaps extending over days, if it were due to the gangrenous poison.
Vinegar, as a purifying and disinfecting agent, eliminates impurities and negativity. When alcohol turns into acetic acid, a transmutation from one substance to another occurs. The fermentation of vinegar can be a process that requires time and patience. Vinegar possesses a unique sweet and sour taste, combining acidity with sweetness. This duality of flavours can represent the complexity of life, with its ups and downs, challenges, and pleasures, and the need to accept and embrace all experiences it offers.
"You could indulge me, but I prefer to mourn the loss of my women over the next few days. I'm sorry, our girl, but here ends our stay," said Dougal with a horrifying expression on his face, tears streaking down his cheeks.
"You're a damned man. You've murdered them, poisoned them, and you don't even flinch, degenerate!" I shouted furiously.
"You know nothing, once again. I loved them dearly, that's why I had to kill them. I didn't dare to end their lives with my own hands, so I let God take care of that," Dougal muttered shamelessly.
"You proclaim yourself devoted to your god, yet you commit these atrocities," I judged firmly.
"Believe me, God would be pleased with my actions. The god who reigns over the plague, who loves diseases. God would find favour in this poison that unleashes a disease as brutal as internal and external gangrene immediately. Only those versed in the religion of the Plague God know how much he loves diseases. That's why I'm faithful to this religion, even though I was only an acolyte in my youth," Dougal decreed with determination.
"What will you do now, cursed one, after committing this crime? Still, the police might suspect. And if someday a just man sets his eyes on the case, on Esme's father's murder, you'll be sentenced and imprisoned," I roared desperately.
"Esme and Hilda no longer belong to me; they are corpses. I will leave this place for their bodies to decay, and I will start a new chapter, a new existence, where I will find another woman and seek to erase Hilda's caresses from my memory. I will flee as far as I can before justice, if it condemns me, begins its relentless process. Everything will be reborn with more brilliance, but first, I must finish you off right here, since the poison failed to do so for the time being.
"I won't wait for death to catch up with you, you, the true seductive harpy who ruined all my plans. I hate you with all my soul for forcing me to separate from Esme, from Hilda. Now you'll pay," declared Dougal, drawing from his belt a pistol, the one he boasted about so much, with which he took Esme's father's life and led them to this inhospitable forest. He loaded the weapon and was about to aim at me, trembling, knowing that no one would come to my aid. "Justice will hold you accountable for your crimes," I shouted, begging for justice, not me, to make him pay for his wicked deeds. However, such mercy was not meant for me.
I moved, crawling along the ground like a nocturnal insect; a cockroach, until I reached the knife with my trembling hands, cleverly hidden and overlooked by the others. However, Dougal sent me back to my place with a kick that made me recoil, although I still held the knife. I prepared for the confrontation, adopting a defensive stance, as Dougal approached. He leaned closer to me, and as he was about to aim at my head, with all my strength, I cut the hand holding the pistol. It was a superficial cut but effective enough to make him release the weapon, which fell to the ground.
Enraged like never before, Dougal grabbed me by the hair and threw me to the ground, but I managed to quickly escape and stand up. He also got up, staggering from the effects of his drunkenness, and began to wrestle with me. He almost managed to make me drop the knife, but in the midst of the confusion, we approached the spot where the pistol had fallen. In a moment of confusion, he tried to reach it as quickly as possible, and in a swift motion, he fired.
The shot missed, as I had already pierced his throat with the knife. The pistol fell to the ground again as I mutilated my opponent's throat with unbridled fury. Torrents of blood gushed from his neck, forming bubbles with the air escaping from his lungs. Quickly, his vitality faded, and I found myself atop his chest, continuing the stabbings with the frenzy and adrenaline of the moment. Only a shapeless mass remained in his throat, flesh torn by my actions. I killed him, I stabbed him until his last breath, and the white knife was dyed scarlet upon its blade.
He died amidst choked moans and spasms. As my frenzy gradually faded, I threw the knife at my feet and couldn't believe what I had done. I had killed a man, extinguished a human life for the first time. I couldn't accept it, I kept repeating to myself: no, no, it can't be. I am not capable of such horror, that monster. Although I was not violated, Dougal had forced me to commit murder. Like Cain, I had killed my brother. If all humans are brothers, then I had committed the first murder. Now, everything made sense.