The smell, oh the smell. It was awful, a dingy and foggy scent that clusters your nostrils and breaks into your conscious. My mind was warped when it grabbed and clutched its claws into my senses the first time I was forced to sniff it. Reluctantly, I looked down. There it was. A bleeding mass of dead skin and no soul. Eyes there, but not really. They were squished in their sockets, a bubbled mass of disgusting matter that wouldn’t stop staring at me, the pupils drilling into my being. I used to have to look away, at least for a second, just to attempt to get my mind to pretend it was a game. Yeah, it was a game. A game where no one got hurt, we all got to go home in the end, and of course no one was reduced to a pile of bubbling fat and waste, like this poor guy…girl? The hair was matted and I couldn’t tell. Blood stained and wet. Recently killed. And it was my job to go and clean up what was left behind.
My shovel, my mallet, and my scraper were my best tools for the job. They stayed with me, tucked away in the pockets of my jumpsuit, and I pulled them out when it was necessary. The sordid smell that came off of them as I used them was not unusual- I was much too lazy to clean them. Better let the dead rot on them then force me to go through the trouble of sterilizing them. I whipped them out, the heavy metal cold, gentle, and smooth against my calloused hands, and set to work. The first step was to always, always, always, make sure they were dead. This…thing, they were dead, that was for sure. A sizzling smell filled air, as if a steak was slapped on the grill or bacon was cooking, fat boiling and popping as I leaned closer to the body, my scraper being my main to...
... middle of paper ...
...unique scent, foul and pungent, yet sickly sweet...as if someone had sprayed an overdose of a rotten perfume into the air.
“Are you done? You're done, aren't you?” Claudia. I turned my head towards the young girl that clung at the entrance to the Block. The Block was just a generally used nickname for the hell that Prosperity had created. It was just as the label said- a cement block with one entrance, a white door, along with various decorations on the inside, such as forts for the victims to hide behind. “Mercy? You're done aren't you?”
“Yes,” I grumbled back, voice barely registering in the blank atmopshere. Claudia was a trainee, my replacement when I died. I assumed it must be soon, as she was sent. She was going to do a terrible job, that was for sure. Timid to the point of breaking down when meeting a new person, she was not a joy for me to handle.
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