Walls

"I told you this would happen. I told you she couldn't be trusted. I told you this was a mistake." The Voice droned on and on. He tried his best to ignore it without appearing so. He hated it when the Voice was right. The Voice just lorded it over him. 


He kept his face blank and his head down, focusing upon the labor at hand. He reached his hand out and picked up the brick. It was heavy in his hand, the grit coarse beneath his calloused fingertips. These hands had once been so gentle, so tender, loving. Now, they were the coarse veneer of the laboring man, his nails broken and brittle, the skin darkened and rough. 


He laid the brick on the mortar. It was a special mortar made with special ingredients, and designed to hold forever. The tears of a life unfulfilled made this mortar possible. He wasted not a single drop. 

His knees hurt from the long time he had been kneeling. He had a long way to go before he reached a level where he could stand, so he was forced to endure the pain. It was just another level of absolution, the pain brought him torture for the sins he had committed. 


"CRACK!!!!" The whip cracked inches from his already scarred back. It was evident that this wasn't the first time that he had gotten lost in thought. He had to work and think. He couldn't rest. That was part of the punishment, his absolution. 


The wall had taken a long time to build. He wanted to make sure he had laid the right foundations this time. He had built this wall before, but it hadn't been strong enough. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes twice. He had put his heart and soul in building this wall. His pain and tears floated the mortar, his soul laid the brick.


Soon the wall would be high enough to block out the images that played in front of him. Memories of what could have been, what he had screwed up, the choices he never made. Lives full of happiness and satisfaction, lives so unfamiliar to his own. 


His legs trembled with a cramp. Soon, he would be able to stand. Soon, he would take charge. Soon. 


He wasn't sure when the Voice appeared. He did know that he had tamed the Monster first. That had been a full force of will. But his had been stronger, and with the flexing of his massive arms, he had taken control. Now the Monster sat and stared at him from the corner where he told it to wait. It was his to control as he saw fit. He knew that soon enough he wouldn't need it anymore, but for now, he kept it around. 


But the Voice had appeared in form, admittedly, a somewhat hazy form, but he could make out enough.


He was finally able to stand, and his legs trembled a little and then firmed up. He was so glad to be able to stand. He paused a moment to catch his breath. "Snap." The whip gave a little pop. He slowly turned his head and looked at the Voice. It was time to show him who the Master really was.


The Voice pulled his hand back and snapped the whip out again. He snatched the end out of the air. The Voice was silent, astonished and frightened. He didn't even stop to think. He gave a mighty jerk and pulled the Voice to him. The Voice staggered out of control into his waiting hands. 


He felt as if he were watching someone else. He was outside of his own body watching the entire scene play out. He had finally had enough of being pushed around, treated like trash, and belittled. He struck back. He pulled the Voice off-balanced and directly into his waiting hands. 


The coarse rough skin of his palms cut into the soft silky flesh of the neck of the Voice. The neck was so small and his hands so large that he was able to interlock his fingers, and thumbs, totally encircling the neck. He instinctively flexed his muscles. At first, he didn't realize what he was doing, but when he realized what WAS happening, he squeezed tighter. All his hate, anger came to the surface. 


At first the Voice tried to fight back, but as he went longer and longer without oxygen, he slowed his defense until he finally went slack. He never stopped squeezing, his arms hurt with the massive effort, but he just couldn't stop.


When the Voice evacuated his bowels, he finally dropped the body. His chest pumped with adrenaline. His arms were twitching with the exertion. He looked down at the lifeless body. He smiled slightly. He was in complete charge now. The world was about to change. 


Looking up with crystal blue eyes, he went back to his work. He still had a wall to build.