Work Text:
There’s a hole in my garage wall and it's talking to me.
It yawns wide. Wider.
It wants me to listen.
So I listen.
I don’t speak. I don't blink. I'm not allowed.
The hole is wet and rimmed with black tissue. The air’s thick with rot.
A slimy, red ooze slides from its corners. Slow. Reeking.
Not blood. Not bile.
Something older. Wrong. Half-digested.
I'm holding something. Keys. My car is parked a few feet behind me. I don't know where I wanted to go. I don't know what I was doing before I came here. I try to recall my name but my mind is static. Something inside me is being erased.
I am an insignificant bug.
The air hisses and the car shakes. A voice and its echo erupt from the hole and my blood runs backward. My limbs are too stuck to lift. The distant echo sizzles and ping-pongs through the garage walls, drumming inside my eardrums.
My knees fail me and I hit the ground. My neck collapses as if severed, and my forehead touches the oily concrete, as if placed there.
I try to ignore the dirt, the dust, the chemical stains.
I can’t ignore the thin, sticky saliva now glued to my skin.
I can't focus on anything else.
I look like I'm prostrating, begging.
The hole sounded pleased when it spoke again.
This time, I understood. I was not meant to understand, but He makes me.
I am an insignificant bug.
I should not lift my head without permission. I understand. I obey.
When I'm allowed, I slowly rise and look up. In His belly, I see my reflection staring back at me. There is a dot of oil and dirt on my forehead. I laugh, feeling like branded cattle.
The corners of His mouth stretch upwards, cutting through the wall. Soundless and vicious. He is trying to smile. I smile back.
He speaks again. The echo is low and bearable this time.
Translation. Comprehension. Submission. These are my duties now, and I strain every brain cell to perform.
When I don't understand, when I panic, He screams. The impact pierces my ears and I fall backward.
The top of my head hits the back of my car on my way down. My blood mixes with the dirt and oil on the ground. The thick, sticky salvia licks the blood and oil, tastes it, drags it all the way back to His mouth and He swallows.
I am an insignificant bug.
There is blood dripping from my ears, and I offer it too. I stand up and walk closer, dizzy and staggering with each step, and raise my bloody fingertips. My palms tremble as the blood is sucked right out of them.
Strangely, I felt cleansed.
He is almost pleased again. So I prostrate. I stay on my hands and knees long enough for Him to purr.
He asks, question after question, and I hear my hoarse voice saying: "Yes, yes, it was rude. Rude. Yes, this place.. this is your body. Yes, I am trespassing on your body. Yes, I am an insignificant bug. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry".
He says one last thing, and I blink and look back at my car.
I remember. I turned eighteen a week ago, and this was my birthday present. I've never used it. Wanted to wait until after my graduation party.
He repeats his command and I laugh again.
I get into the car. There is a flood of moisture running down my cheeks.
The car moves slowly and takes me where the saliva is directing me.
Inside the mouth.