Thomas Jefferson once said, “It is neither wealth nor splendor; but tranquility and occupation which give you happiness.” Poor Mr. Jefferson surely didn’t expect a place like Savagé Gardens to exist.
Savagé Gardens; the place I call home. From the outside, it looks like a paradise, shut in by large iron gates containing the wealthiest people in the world. From the inside it’s a prison; stuck inside by your own wealth, forced to play the role of a gentleman every time someone can see you. Perhaps that’s what made me the way I am.
“Donovan, darling! Are you home?” the old hag trilled.
“Yes, Mother, I’ll be down in just a minute,” I called back sweetly. I quickly removed the rest of my bloodstained suit, threw it into my washer and dryer, and changed into a clean dark one.
“Is that your washy thing I hear?”
I hurried down the stairs, smiling, “It’s called a washer Mother, and yes it is.”
“Really dear, you don’t have to do that, Consuela does a perfectly good job with our laundry,” she frowned, “I worry about you sometimes.”
I laughed heartily, “Just because I do my own laundry doesn’t need to concern you, think of it as my little bit of independence. I am practically 30 already, but here I remain with you.”
She embraced me tightly, “And I don’t know what I’d do without you, I’m sorry Donovan.”
I flinched at her touch, but accepted her smothering affection. Certain roles in society must be played, especially here at Savagé Gardens.
“I’m going out for a bit,” I said as I slipped out of her grasp, unable to take any more.
“You’ve been going out a lot lately; you aren’t going out there are you?”
I sighed, “Mother, sometimes I do, because as Bertrand Russell one said: the observer, when he seems to himself to be observing a stone, is really observing the effects of the stone upon himself.”
“You know I don’t understand your quoting nonsense, dear. But if you must, you must. It’s just that people have been talking about you lately…”
“Do not worry about those people; all they can do is talk.”
She stamped her foot on the ground, much like a child. “You are a Cromwell, Donovan. I will not have you tarnishing our name. We have been respected throughout history and I will not let one boy mess that up. You will behave properly from now on.”
I smiled at her and bolted for the door before she could do anything to stop me, like send out a guard. I hated to admit it, but she would try something like that. My mind began to wander into my darkness, but I could only indulge in it in my mind, not reality. I sometimes wondered how life would be if I were to move away from this hellhole, away from that woman and those people. But if I were to do so I know life would be much harder; I wouldn’t be able to keep my “hobbies” in the dark for very long. Money and power were the tools I needed to keep it a secret from the world.
I crossed the lush green lawn to the garage and entered through the small door. The automatic lights flickered on and I looked from vehicle to vehicle, trying to decide between the Mercedes or the Ferrari. The Ferrari seemed too bright of a color to take, so the silver SLS AMG it was. I always made sure to leave the keys under the front seat in case of times such as this; Mother frequently became too much to handle and a quick getaway was needed. I opened the trunk and found it empty. I had taken the Mercedes out earlier, so I hadn’t had time to replace anything. Slightly irritated, I walked over to the Ferrari and took out its contents: a canvas tool bag and a crisp white suit. I changed into the suit, throwing the other into the Ferrari; a reminder to replace the contents. It was finally time to go, and I was getting anxious. I opened to large door and sped out onto the neatly paved streets.
If it were anyone else, the houses I raced by would seem magnificent and highly coveted, but to me, and all the other people of Savagé Gardens, they were nothing; simply bricks and stones we lived under, not nearly as grand as we wanted. The lawns were all perfectly watered and green, the perfection annoyed me. The world is nothing without a little chaos, as many famous philosophers would agree. Chaos was my ally, my second best friend next to darkness. We all have a little darkness in our hearts; some people just have a little more than others.
I waited impatiently at the gate for them to electronically open. I don’t know who had paid for them to open so slowly, but it was getting painfully to the point where I wanted to just go on and buy newer, faster opening gates. I nodded at the old man in the booth as I passed by and found myself wondering how dreadfully miserable his life must be; spending every day all day watching screens, seeing who enters and leaves Savagé Gardens, making sure to identify those who wish to enter, going home to a broken down shack, all alone for the rest of his life until he is put out of his misery by death. A truly kind person would put him out of his misery sooner than meant to be. Unfortunately I am not a truly kind person.
Once you leave Savagé Gardens, you enter upon the ruins of humanity. The poorest of people created their own city of which I have never known the name. This city is my playground, and I it’s God. I parked my car in the usual alley, covering it with a torn and dusty sheet to camouflage it. I stepped into the cracked and broken sidewalk and started to stroll. Perhaps a destitute city was not the ideal place for a night stroll; my suit attracted unsavory guests. A man in ragged clothing with no teeth held a gun to my head, muttering unintelligible words that sound something like ‘give me your money’. I smirked; today was my lucky day.
“Don’t shoot,” I held my hands up, trying to act terrified, “You can have it all, but I don’t have it with me it’s just upstairs I’ll go get it oh god don’t shoot me.”
“Yoor gon’ call dem poeleece offisirs, aint yoo?” he spat, “I aint no fool, take me up dem steers wich yoo naow.”
Keeping my hands up, I led him into the abandoned building up three flights of rickety stairs that could cave in any moment. Fortunately this man looks like he hasn’t eaten in quite a while, so his weight was tolerated. If he had any sort of intelligence, he would never have followed me into an abandoned building; no rich man would keep his money in such a place. I slowly opened the door to the second room and he shuffled inside, looking around wildly. A moan arose from a room in the back, and he trembled as he tiptoed towards it. I watched from the door with glee. A shriek pierced the air as the ragged man bolted back out the room, crashing into me. His eyes were filled with terror as he begged and pleaded for me to let him get out of here. I laughed with pure joy and dragged him back into the room, shutting the door behind me.
***
Oh dear Lord I don’t want to die I just wanted the man’s money I needed to get money to buy food for me and my family I didn’t have no choice he said he got money upstairs I don’t know why I believed him oh god he’s not human I heard the moaning I got scared cuz I thought it was the police that new lieutenant been cracking down hard on people lately I got to stay in the dark where he don’t see me I just need to get money for my family it wasn’t no police oh Lord I don’t want to die he’s going to kill me just like that man up on the table no arms or legs bit by bit he was getting cut up like meat blood everywhere smells rotting flesh and now he got me oh god don’t let me die like that I don’t want to die.
***
It had only been half an hour since I put the ragged man into the waiting cage, and already I wanted to just kill him. He just kept screaming about his family and how he doesn’t want to die and my patience was wearing thin. Number 48 moaned quietly on the table, begging for me to kill him now, not able to take any more pain.
I looked around the room that had once been falling apart when I had first found it; it once belonged to a prostitute, the first one to share my little secret. Since then I had turned it into a stable terror room. The walls were plated in steel plates, the floor was cement and blood stains were everywhere. It had taken quite a lot of work on the entire building to create this one room, but it was worth seeing the reactions from all my little friends, just like 48 and the ragged man. I smiled; this was home, not with the old bag.
“You want to die?” I whispered into his ear.
Tears poured down his face, “Yes, just please kill me already I don’t want any more pain please.”
I smiled at what I had reduced to this once lively man to, it was so pitiful, but made me feel so powerful.
“Why me?” 48 whispered hoarsely.
“Why?” I giggled, “Because you just have bad luck. You really shouldn’t have come into contact with me, but it was fate I suppose. Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together-“
“Marcus Aurelius,” he chuckled, causing him to cough and moan in pain.
“I didn’t expect a salesman to know, you surprised me. I love quotes you see, they give a little insight to different parts of humanity; something I am not a part of any longer,” I beamed in pride.
I stalked around the table, trying to find the perfect tool. The ragged man began shrieking hysterically again and my temper got the best of me. I lurched towards the cage, reached into the cage, smashed his head forward and cut out his tongue. The blood spurted a little onto my suit and he screamed in pain. He could still make noise of course, but at least he couldn’t talk.
“You will stop with your incessant screaming, yes?” I hissed.
He nodded silently, bawling like a little baby. I cracked my neck and turned my attention back to 48. I picked up a rusty axe off the floor and grinned at the ragged man, he knew what was about to happen from the look in his eyes and tried to cover his eyes.
“Don’t look away,” I cackled, “Or I’ll cut something else off right now.”
He looked back up at the table, trembling and crying, blood pouring from his mouth. I raised the axe above my head, positioned it, and brought it down with great force onto his jugular. The blood sprayed everywhere, including all over my suit and the ragged man’s face. 48’s head went rolling off the table and I couldn’t help but let out a small squeal of delight as it rolled to the cage; I may have had the floor tilted a certain way so things would always roll towards the cage, it is quite possible. The ragged man vomited inside the cage, and the putrid smell of it made him gag and nearly throw up a second time. I crouched down in front of the cage again, kicking the head away, and smiled at the ragged man; he looked at me with pure terror.
"Want to know my favorite part? My favorite part is how the blood looks on this white suit; isn't it a gorgeous color? Look at how deep the red is," I said in a low voice as he backed as far away as he could, "George Eliot once said that our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. Unfortunately you will be dead to the world soon; your family will be glad to be rid of you, your wife can find someone new and life goes on for her. For you this is the end, and it won’t be a pretty one. It's nice to meet you, Number 49, won’t you join me on my table?"