Nicodemus stared, mouth agape, at his headless corpse. He couldn't see much in the rippling and swirling dimension he was now standing in, but he could see his body quite clearly. A shadow was moving near it, and he saw his head dropped onto the cadaver.
"This can't be..." He whispered to himself, turning and looking around. The world around him was nothing but abstract shapes and stirring kaleidoscope colors. He could hear everything rushing, like blood in his ears.
"What is this place...?"
"The in-between." Said a voice. Nico whipped his head around and looked up. There was a giant, heavily armored man now standing before him, at least twenty feet tall. His hair was black and it flowed beneath his helmet, softly brushing against his smooth face. He was holding a massive hook, and Nico could see layers of blood encrusting the curved edge. Nicodemus shuddered, taking a nervous step back. Without another word, the soldier whipped his hook down and up through Nico's jaw. The end gorged through the top of his skull, and blood poured down his ghostly figure. Nico staggered, gurgling through his mouth that was fastened closed by the weapon. He reached up and felt the tip of it coming through his head, and his eyes widened with fear of this moment that, somehow, was not killing him.
"They call me the Fisherman." The huge warrior said, lifting the little man up by the hook and starting to walk. Whimpering, Nicodemus reached up and grabbed onto a bit of the hook's bar, trying to alleviate the excruciating pain searing through his head. The Fisherman didn't mind, casually strolling through the strange dimension, for he knew his catch was secure.
As they traveled, with long booming steps, Nico could see other shadowy figures far in the distance. They all had hooks like this terrifying fellow, and they were all carrying little people in the same direction. He shut his eyes as a rush of stillness overtook him. Then they opened again, and the pain returned. It was like he'd died again, and he was going to keep dying and returning so long as he was hanging from this scythe.
"Yes, sir, this here is The Middle. 'S what I call it, at least. The place you go when you die." The giant looked down at his little fish, "Oh you're dead, alright. Got yer damn head ripped off, hah hah hah! And now, on to the castle." He sighed, for this was just another long day of work.
"Oh, I knew a fair-haired lady, She spoke like a poet, straight out of a book But her words, they went quiet, didn't mean nothin' by it S' just her mouth, it was stuck with my hook! Hah hah hah!" The giant laughed heartily, giving his scythe a merry shake in the air. Nico screamed through his shut jaw, holding tightly to the bar as he swung back and forth.
After a while, the two arrived at a door. Just a single, enormous door standing in the open air. The Fisherman gave a cheerful "Alright then." before opening the door and stepping through. He ducked his head, and in a moment, they were standing on the streets of Limbo. Nicodemus' eyes couldn't have gone any wider. Demons of all shapes, sizes, and design were scurrying about far below them. At the entering of the giant, many of them hurried out of his way. The Fisherman continued on his journey, taking huge strides towards the great looming Castle of Penitence that stood high in the distance.
When they'd finally reached the gates, the Fisherman took a turn down a side road along the castle. He came up to another door, one made for exactly his kind, and pushed it open. "Caught a nice little sturgeon, hah hah!" He bellowed, presenting Nico on his hook to the smaller demon stationed inside.
"Aye, you did." The soldier said, walking forward. In total routine, he grabbed hold of Nico's shoulders and wrenched him down. The hook sliced completely through his jaw and he fell. The demon quickly took out a wad of ready-made wrappings and shoved it deep into Nico's mouth to muffle his screaming. "All set, on your way." The soldier called up to the Fisherman, who took his bow before leaving. Then, heaving the trembling Nico to his feet, he said, "Come, fish."
Nicodemus was lead down dark and bloody castle halls, passing cell after cell of unspeakable horror. A few demons were escorting him, one of them had a little clipboard and was writing on it. Nico was bleeding profusely, and every now and then he'd stumble as he had a 'little death' and a demon would catch him and push him along as he recovered. Finally, they reached a small, filthy cell. One of the escorts shoved him in and the door rang out as it squealed shut. "The doctor will be with you shortly." The demon with the clipboard muttered, not even sparing him a glance as their squad turned and left.
"Forloe! I believe we have a new patient this afternoon; I've just received his files. Come introduce yourself after your break, yes?"
The redheaded demon slung herself over her assistant's station, pestering him with a malicious glint in her eyes. She'd been going on about her newest patient for weeks before his arrival, impatient to begin her work. Now that he'd finally arrived, she plucked a few tools off his desk and stuffed them into her lab coat's pockets, including a pair of scissors and a pen. She tapped his desk twice before setting on her way with a merry skip in her walk.
"Afternoon, Endo."
The Doctor grinned, greeting each of her patients. Her ward hosted an endless amount of inmates, each trapped behind cell bars and doors crusted over with blood and rotting guts. Yet, the bars were as indestructible as always, no matter the talents and abilities of those inside their cage.
"Nice to see you, Nova-"
"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT, YOU SOULLESS BITCH."
"Yes, yes, and a wonderful, lovely afternoon to you, Meileng."
Ignoring the usual comment and insult thrown out of every other stall, she strut confidently through the rest of her domain, equally acknowledging everyone. However, as she passed the singularly destroyed cell, her expression fell. It was only a fluke, what had happened. An unlikely percentile of recovery so microscopic some of the inmates thought of it as a miracle. It was only a few doors down from her newest soul, and though he wasn't likely to have noticed it, the fact that hope itself was within her walls felt Off.
Fixing her coat, she took a look at the clipboard posted on the pillar beside his cell. After glancing over his information, she sighed, lamenting how the contents and extended comments shared nothing new about the man. Everything she read she'd already learned and memorized-- the same as for the other patients. However, flipping through pages revealed a bit of initially hidden information: Nicodemus' sponsor. Shifting the clipboard to her side, she scribbled something down on the first page before proceeding past the pillar-- gaining her the first look at her ill-fated victim.
'Shortly' was a subjective term. The sense of time to a demon was irrelative to that of a mortal soul. For Nicodemus, he was likely waiting there for hours before the beginning of his true torment. Lucia's appearance only sealed such misfortune, as she stood straight at the cell's entrance, jotting something down before modifying the seal on the door and allowing herself inside. The bars rattled as if the cell itself had woken from slumber, groaning in the agony of endless insomnia.
"Nicodemus,"
She started, a faint smile appearing along her face as she held out her free hand.
"I'm Doctor Lucia, but you may call me Doctor L. And might I add, I'm so pleased to have you here. You're very, very sick, you know. And I'll do my upmost best to treat you. You're in the best hands possible."
Nicodemus had, infact, been there for what would have been hours. During which time, his jaw and skull had slowly cracked back into place and healed. He'd sat in the farthest corner of his cell for the most of his time, holding his head and whispering to himself that this was a dream- difficult to do so over the screams of his fellow inmates.
As the doctor entered his cell, though, he stood and pressed his back against the wall, not coming anywhere near her outstretched hand. "That's a lie, I'm not sick." He said boldly, narrowing his eyes at her. "You must have me confused with someone else. All of you. All of you must be confused. I don't belong here, I need to return home."
Having rejected her offer to shake hands, Lucia disapprovingly clasped her hands together and sighed. Slowly, she shook her head, her voice box switching as it began to mimic a familiar tone to the patient's.
"This is home, Nico."
A voice which hadn't surfaced in years and which only then lived in the inmate's dreams: his mother spoke to him, through the doctor as the room began to shift and change, morphing into something truly alive. Skinless floors of bright pink tissue, breathing as it violently shook in oddly-timed intervals, sloshing with blood. Iron bars turned into bones rivaling dragons' in length, and just as strong. Eyeballs appeared in the corners of bloody tissue, some searching the room for something unseen, the others staring at Nicodemus, knowing all his sins.
The room groaned and growled at the man, flexing a tongue up through the mess of organs and tissues as it slithered against the man; a taste of its forever-victim.
"And you're sick-- You've always been sick. Sick like your father, and that brat, too. We can't go home until you're better, understand me? Neither of us."
The look of shock and enchantment brought forth by his mother's presence was soon turned to horror as his cell changed form. Nico's grey eyes grew wide and he stumbled forward away from the pulsing veiny walls. "M-Mother..?" He stuttered, freezing up as he felt the tongue swipe over his body. "What are you...This can't be real.."
Glaring, he spat at his surroundings, "THIS CAN'T BE REAL!" Looking back at Lucia, "YOU'RE NOT REAL, YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER!"
Dropping to his knees, Nicodemus plunged his clawed hands into the groaning tissue of the floors and attempted to rip it apart, "This iS a triCk!" He cried frantically, "ThIs is AlL just a TErribLe DrEAm! A fRAud! A pLoY!"
As Nicodemus clawed at the flooring, blood slushed out of the freshly made wounds, covering the man. The tongue continued to lap at him, eventually elongating itself to slither its way around the poor soul, binding him tightly in place. What was once an organ of taste morphed into a tentacle, sprouting suckers along its body. They clung to the fearful man, attaching themselves at his skin as they plucked and pulled, ripping him with force enough to pull doors from their hinges. And yet, one couldn't simply die in their cell. He wasn't even allowed a "little death" once in Lucia's hand-picked hell-hole.
"No, I'm not your mother. But you want to go home, don't you?"
Unfazed by the blood and organs around them, the tissue dissipated into a sea of blood, to which Lucia easily navigated through, parting the waves as she approached the inmate.
"If it's all a dream, then dream yourself well. You'll be free to go, Nico. But since you're oh so, so very sick, you'll be staying with me until you can put yourself back together."
Nico shrieked as the tentacle's suckers wrenched him into pieces, peeling tendons and flesh off his bones without the slightest resistance. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He begged, gasping and crying out in agony. He looked up at the doctor, his hair sticking to his face as it soaked with blood and his arms pinned to his sides. "Please help me! Please make it stop!"
"Stitch, stitch, stitch yourself together.~" She hummed, holding onto the clipboard with her arm as she reached into her coat's pocket for sterile gloves. After fixing them onto her hands, she leaned down and dipped a finger into the blood, watching as it flowed and splashed upwards. She reached for his face, she smearing the sticky substance onto his forehead while the tentacles began to loosen, pulling away the pieces they'd torn off.
"If you can't stitch, or snag, or snap yourself back together, I'll show you how to do it properly."
With the tentacles having completely slithered down into the flooring of his rancid-smelling cell, the blood swirled into the center of the room, slushing as it drained into nothing but puddles. Lucia scanned over the patient, his agony nothing particularly out of her daily norm. It echoed the pain of the other inmates, mirroring their torment. Their warnings to this newcomer.
"You'll need to make more of that string of yours for me, Nico. We can't fix you up without it."
Nicodemus fell to his knees and reached out to grab the doctor's feet. "I c-can't, I can't!" He wailed, the red and raw muscles of his face glistening under his blood-soaked hair. He laid his head down on the grimy floor and sobbed pathetically, folding his knees up against himself.
"I cAn't! Please," Nico touched his bony fingers to Lucia's shoes weakly, smearing them with blood. "Please help me! It hurts! It hUrTs!"
"Oh, but you can. You most certainly can. You've done it so many times before." Lucia sighed, using the tip of her black loafers to shoo his hand off and away. She leaned her head down to look at him, disappointed.
"I'm trying to help you. You just need to listen to me, okay? Try it, try making some. And if you really can't, shan't, or won't-- then what I can't promise you it won't hurt when I try."
Her face tightened as she tried not to show any hints of the grin which oh-so wanted to spread across her face. She pressed the clipboard into her chest, trying to calm her emotions.
"But I'll help you. No matter what, Nico, I'll help you. I'll fix you up much, much, much nicer now that you're here with me."
Cowering, Nicodemus looked down at his shaking hands and the peels of flesh hanging from them. "W-Why did you do this," He breathed, slowly pressing his fingertips together in an attempt to withdraw some thread, "Why did you hurt me so badly...?" Staring hard at his endeavor, he managed to hook a few threads in his sharp nails and pull them to the length he desired. Without waiting for the pain to intimidate him, Nico stabbed his needle-like fingernails into the flesh of his forearm and sewed the torn pieces of skin back into place.
He screamed, clutching his arm afterwards and rolling back onto his knees. "Why must I do this...?!" The patient cried, obediently continuing his work whether she answered him or not. One string after another, up and down, back and forth, the threads were sewn along his mangled legs and pulled taught. Then along his waist, then his shoulders.
Nico gasped as he pulled one of the threads too tight and it sliced through the muscle in his arm he'd been reattaching. With an icy shudder, for he no longer had the strength to cry out, he stabbed another string in and finished the job. Looking up at the doctor through watering eyes, he murmured, "I cannot close the wounds on my face, I can't see them...Please help me..."
None of his questions would be answered as the doctor watched him, occasionally scribbling down some notes onto her clipboard. She glanced down at his work, observed, and flipped a paper over to fill in a few details.
His plea caused her to pause from her writing, stomping her foot into the ground as it made a loud high-pitched noise. The floor beneath them was suddenly cracked mirror, with pieces large enough for the man to use and see himself.
"I'll always help you to get better, Nico. So make sure to watch me carefully." With a sickeningly tender smile, she crouched down, setting her clipboard behind her. The pen she'd been using was suddenly thread and needle-- albeit not perfect in a medical sense, it would do for her demonstration to the inmate. Folding up broken pieces of flesh, she pushed them against torn muscle, whatever was left of him and his jaw. A gradual process that was hastened by her experience as she stitched everything together-- only to pull at the end of the thread and let all the pieces fall away once again.
"Now it's your turn. If you do it that way, it won't hurt later. Show me what you've learned."
A small smile of tragic relief lifted his lips as she aided him, and he pressed his face into her hands. But the moment Lucia pulled the threads out of place and his skin peeled off again, he ducked his head down and wailed in pain. Still on his hands and knees, Nico looked down at his reflection, blood spattering over it from his wounds. "WhY...?!" He cried, gasping and shaking. "N-no no no..."
Unsteadily, he lifted his hands and tenderly pressed his flesh into place, sobbing pathetically as he reluctantly stabbed his threaded nails up and down along the seams of skin and pulled them tight. "No no no no...This isn't right, this isn't right..." Nicodemus whispered, his eyes fogging over in a weary attempt to disassociate entirely.
Continuing to crouch down next to the pitiful soul, she took back up her clipboard and continued to write using her needle-like pen, dipping its end in the blood spilt as if it were ink. Every so often she would scribble something out, glancing back and forth between his work and her short stack of papers to complete.
"No, no, you'll do a horrid job if you space out, dear boy."
She interrupted him, cupping his face and gently pulling it towards his reflection.
"Look there. Be exact. Once you're healthy, you won't have a mirror anymore to guide you. How can you help any of your birds if you can't even fix yourself up?"
With a disappointing shake of her head, she retracted her hand and harshly crossed something out on her sheet.
"When you're finished up nice, I'll give you a real treat. Especially since it's your first day of treatment."
With a switch of her voice, his mother's tone returned.
The tension in Nico's agonized expression suddenly softened as he heard his mother. Looking up with wide eyes, he said, "...I will, I will, mom...I'll be good for you. I always have been." Far too weary for logic or rebellion, he gave her a little smile of madness before returning his gaze to the mirror floor and continuing his work- this time with steadier focus.
"Very nice...like this..." He muttered to himself, trying not to flinch as he pulled together the skin above his eyelid. "Yes, mm, that looks lovely." Unthreading his nails after he'd finished, he lifted his head and looked at the doctor again. Under the blood that leaked from his wounds, he gave her a hopeful expression as he waited to hear more from his mother.
