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There is a scream trapped in Malcolm's throat. It keeps trying to claw its way up his vocal cords and out of his mouth, but he keeps a hand pressed tightly over his lips, digging his fingernails into his cheek and refusing to let the scream out, trapping the guttural sound within. He's trembling, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, his thinking muddled as a sensation of pure fear constricts vise-tight around his body.
It was supposed to be a movie. Only a movie, nothing more. It was supposed to be a Hollywood director's vision of what to do as punishment for child molesters. It wasn’t supposed to be real. And yet some perverted and deranged killer had gone and made the creature a reality. Made of flesh and bone and blood—The Human Centipede.
Malcolm gapes in utter horror at the twisted abomination in front of him. Three people, one man and two women, were stitched together mouth-to-anus. The tendons of their knees have been severed, rendering them unable to stand up. Their cheeks have been sliced open in a V shape and sewn to the bottom of the human in front of them, connecting them. The man at the front has been dead for a while—his skin is grey, and rigor mortis has set in. The woman at the end has been dead for only a short time; her skin is still pink and soft. She's been dead less than an hour.
Tragically, the woman in the middle is still very much alive. Her frightful sobs are muffled, her eyes are blood red from crying, and her cheeks are smeared and stained with her tears. She's still holding the hand of the woman who passed away, clinging to her friend while she is trapped in such a horrific situation.
There are paintings of conjoined twins displayed throughout the house—the killer seemed to be a doctor who specialized in separating twins. This horror felt like a movie, or that of a Nazi doctor who carried out torture experiments on prisoners in the Auschwitz concentration camp. How had three people been kidnapped and experimented on, and no one in the suburban neighborhood found out about it?
The paramedics work quickly to administer a sedative to the woman—it's a kind mercy to let her slip into unconsciousness so she doesn’t have to remain in this waking nightmare. The ambulance will soon arrive to take them to the hospital, where doctors and nurses are already on standby, but Malcolm doesn’t even know if the doctors will be able to separate the creature. Not only are they connected by skin, but according to the diagram left in the makeshift basement hospital, they are connected by the intestinal tract.
There is a dog cage nearby with a dirty blanket in it. That's where the creature was kept, but for how long? How many days, or weeks, or, God forbid, months, did these people suffer this sick fate?
Unable to look anymore, Malcolm turns away, but when his eyes fall on a photo of three Rottweiler dogs, all connected the same way—the first creature this killer ever made—the fear takes hold of him, and he lets out a scream as his stomach ties up in knots and he desperately tries not to vomit.
♥ END ♥