01 Feb I Was Paid to Test a New Drug: I Didn’t Expect This to Happen
He awoke begrudgingly, the memories of the misadventures from the night before escaping him immediately. As he observed the decrepit and run down motel room he now found himself in he figured that was for the best. As the events that put him in cheap roadside motels for the night were never the prettiest. No one was to be found in the concrete textured bed beside him, also for the best as they never turned out to be the prettiest either. He stood and began scrambling for his scattered belongings, ignoring the dull headache he was all to familiar with. He picked up his wallet expecting it to be empty, yet was greeted with a giant wad of one hundred dollar bills. He was ecstatic, this was more money than he had ever laid his hands on, before he could begin pondering his soon to be numerous purchases of alcohol, drugs and the company of women, a more important thought crept into his head. “Where did this money come from?”. Although he wished to continue mentally adding every high dollar bottle of liquor and clean cut, lab tested, saron wrapped substances to his cart, a foreboding feeling of caution swept over him. He knew however his heavily intoxicated and high wired alter ego from the night before acquired such cash was almost certainly through illegal means, and if that cash was stolen he knew it was enough that someone was looking for it.
He began searching the room not for his belongings but now for clues, by the door sat a briefcase which seemed familiar and he started heading toward it when at the end of the bed he spotted an oversized and cheap looking purse, the kind that’s usually accompanied by an even more oversized and cheap looking girl. So he for sure had the company of a woman last night. but where had she gone? He doubted this nameless and faceless girl would have left without her purse, so he decide to look for her in the only part of the room he had yet to search, the bathroom. He found it locked, strangely from the outside, but expecting to simply find a passed out hooker or nothing at all he unlocked and swung the bathroom door open, A mistake he would very soon regret. Behind the door was the girl he expected to find but not in the state he could have ever expected. She was sprawled out onto the floor and covered in blood, empty plastic bags, and broken glass. The once feeling of curiosity and caution now turned into an overwhelming sensation of terror. He slammed the door shut not wanting the scene to be real. He stood still for a moment catching his breath and gathering his thoughts, pushing the ones that involved him being a murderer deep down, before opening the door again, this time taking in every detail.
The bright red of her hair paired with the dark red of her blood contrasted with the surprisingly clean and white bathroom. The broken glass on the floor was once a vanity mirror above the sink, now broken and marked with bloody handprints. The only wounds he saw were on her arms. The gruesome cuts and scrapes started at her fingers and went all the way down to her elbows leaving her forearms a mangled mess of torn and ripped flesh. In her right hand she still gripped a jagged and nasty looking piece of the broken mirror. On her face was an expression not of pain or death or fear, but of what appeared to be glee. It could have been rigor mortis setting in causing her face to distort, or his shock stricken mind could have been playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn that bloody and flayed girl, had a smile on her face. He had seen enough, enough to know that whatever had happened to that poor girl, she had done herself. He also had seen enough to refresh his memory.
They met him at a party and asked him if he was interested in trying a new drug and being paid for it. Being already high but coming down, and flat broke. It was a golden opportunity and he quickly agreed. He had been given the briefcase and was told it contained a new research chemical that they said had similar effects to that of LSD. Which at the time was almost everyone’s drug of choice. He was given the money and told to go to the hotel that night, where he would try the drug and in the morning he would call them and await further instructions and payment, which they said would be substantially more than the initial payment, to persuade against simply running off with the drugs and the money. He had agreed to the plan, and took the briefcase and money. Luckily for him, he had not spent the night with a woman in a while, but now that he had a pocketful of money that would change. He picked up the first girl he saw and after purchasing a handful of his drugs of choice took her back to the room. This is where his memory went black again.
He must have had her try it first, or maybe he was just too busy with the other drugs. But after taking it she must have begun behaving strangely or violently enough to warrant him locking her in the bathroom, where the drug took its full effect and caused her to enter into some drug induced psychosis. All he knew for sure was that research chemical was definitely the cause of the mess in the bathroom, and if he had taken it instead of her that would be him. He felt a pang of guilt for the girl in the bathroom, in a way he was responsible for what had happened to her. But he pushed that feeling down as well. After piecing the scene together and considering everything he decided he quickly needed to get away from that motel. He finished gathering his belongings and made sure to leave nothing to tie him to the scene. He had one foot out the door when he heard it, shuffling in the bathroom.
He should have left, he should have ignored it, maybe he imagined it, but that pang of guilt returned, the shuffling sound meant that the girl could still be alive, what with all the blood loss he did not know, but he hadn’t checked her pulse, And if he left while she was still alive he would be damning her to a certain death. The guilt caused him to close the door and turn around. He headed to the bathroom with the intention of quickly checking her pulse, conforming she was dead, and leaving. But he didn’t check her pulse, she wasn’t dead, and he didn’t leave. As soon as he touched her, her eyes flung open and she grabbed him with what used to be her arm. “MORE!” she screamed in a painful and delirious state, “WHERE IS IT!” she said as she threw him back with more strength than he would of thought possible. He quickly turned to scramble out of the bathroom, but she was on her feet and then on top of his back before he could make it past the doorway. He felt a sudden and sharp pain in his side as she struggled on top of him. He felt it again and again as he heard her continue to call out for more of the chemical. He pointed at the briefcase and she quickly forgot all about him. He watched as she sprang for it with ferocious intensity, the jagged piece of broken glass still in her hands and now fresh with his blood, he saw her use her ragged and skinless limbs to pry open the briefcase.
Feeling his strength leaving him and pure terror overcoming him, he crawled towards the phone to call for help, not wanting to take the risk of going past the deranged half dead monster by the door. He turned cautiously to make sure she wasn’t coming back for him and saw her taking bag after bag of the evil powder like chemical substance. Entranced he watch with a curious sickness as she began stabbing and slicing at herself with the piece of glass, continuing her work on her arms and then moving to her untouched legs. With every stab, slice, cut, rip, and tear of her flesh she let out a scream, not of pain, but of euphoria. He watched that same wicked smile spread across her face as she tore into her tender thighs with broken glass. Now he understood. He gave up on the phone and slowly started crawling back. not towards the door, but towards the briefcase.