Story

Henry sat in his office, nervously glancing at his phone every few minutes. It had been a few days since Beau announced that he was working on a new project, and Henry had not heard from his friend since then. It was not unusual for Beau to get swept up in his designs and inventions, but Henry was not used to being so ignored. His fingers nervously tapped, creating a rapping sound as they collided with the table. “Beau is usually so good with responding…,” he muttered. Picking up the phone, he wrote another message. The frantic tone of his words clear with each new text.

Beau attempted to calm his nerves--this project meant a lot to him. It was one of his better works and quite stressful to finish up. Everything had to go perfectly. He was behind on work, and his house was a mess because of this prosthetic. Nevertheless, Beau was sure that in the end it would all be worth it. With a deep breath, he wiped the sweat from his brow and entered his workshop.

Beau’s failure to respond was causing Henry to panic. There had to be something wrong if he was being ignored. It could very well be something simple like Beau having broken his phone, but Henry was not one to let a potential situation slide. With only a few quick movements, he was already out the door and driving away. He knew that he could be overthinking, but his worry triumphed over the possible awkward situation. Parking his car on the sidewalk, Henry could not help but notice the overgrown grass and that the trash hadn’t been taken out yet. He lifted the lid and saw crumpled-up papers and scrap metal. As he looked around he found more junk which formed a knot in his stomach. Gravel crunched under his feet as he neared the door. Shuffling through his pockets, he produced a key and unlocked it, apprehensively peering into the dimly lit interior.

Within the workshop, Beau lay hunched over his desk and fiddling with a intricate mechanical hand. It was working perfectly and he knew it, but his nerves worsened as he calibrated it for the final time. His fingers traced over its cool metal frame, moving each joint just to watch the complexity of its design. He set out an emergency medical kit near him. Beau murmured, “You got this. You’ve been workin’ for this, Beau…,” a clear tremble in his usually low and calm voice as he cleared off the workshop desk. With that, he hesitantly grabbed a circular saw and flicked on the power switch.

Beau’s house had never been especially clean, he was the type to have organized chaos where no one quite understood it but him. But, as Henry looked around, he could instantly tell that the house's current state was abnormally disarranged. He couldn’t help but pick up and tidy the house as he moved through it, trying to make some semblance of why Beau could have let it have gotten so bad. “Are you here Beau?”, he called out. Silence. Well, not quite.

Henry could swear that he was hearing a faint whirring noise. The closer he listened the clearer it became. “Beau?” He moved towards the sound, nearing the basement where Beau often worked. Henry paused when the whirring stopped, his hand right over the doorknob, and pressed his ear against the door. He heard a muted voice, and then a thud. Henry swung open the door, terrified of what he might find. His eyes widened, frantically taking in the room when his hand flew to cover his mouth and the involuntary gasp that escaped.

Beau was on the floor curled up in a fetal position, a puddle of deep red blood surrounding him. Henry took a step back in shock, not sure if what was before him was truly real. He couldn’t take his eyes off Beau as the blood slowly spread underneath his friend. When Henry looked down, the it had already reached his shoes. Staring in shock, he noticed Beau held a gore-soaked towel against his right arm. Only then did Henry make out a disembodied hand on the floor and a saw blade coated in red. “What the fuck did you do?” Beau looked up at Henry, tears seeping out of his pained eyes.

“Please…” he winced, “Finish what I started.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! We need to get you help now!” Henry ran to Beau’s side, his heart pounding out of his chest and the room spinning around him. Beau continued crying, looking pitifully up at Henry as he begged.

“I-” He crumpled up, the searing pain sending waves of agony throughout his body, “There’s a prosthetic on the table, I-I need you to fuse it to my arm.” Is this why he did this to himself…? Looking over at the table Henry saw the robotic hand with steaming wires, as if they were actively reaching for Beau’s wound, ready to cauterize it and become a part of him. “Henry, please…! This is my most important work! Finish the job! I-I can't do it myself, it's out of my reach!” Beau wailed, clear in his conviction.

Henry, completely terrified while his friend begged for something truly disturbing, ran out of the room and fell to the floor panting. Every breath of the cold air stung his lungs, and he had to cover his nose from the overpowering smell of copper. He held his shaking self, the ragged rhythm of his accelerated heart rate being near deafening. Everything was too much for him. Beau was bleeding out in the other room, only further overwhelming him. Beau needed help, he was well aware, but the scene had already been burned into his retina. He couldn’t handle seeing such a grotesque sight again. Henry stayed still for no less than a minute, although the time felt longer, but when the puddle of red reached his vision again, he knew that Beau would surely die without his help. With that, he called an ambulance.

“May god help me.” Henry stood and prayed to himself as he once again entered the room, the quiet splashing of blood under his shoes caused a shiver to go down his spine. His heart was still beating out of his chest as he stood above Beau; who had given up on calling for Henry and was just trying to stop the bleeding by now. Grabbing the medical kit and acting as fast as he could, Henry tied a tourniquet around Beau’s bloodied arm, uttering words of reassurance as he did all that he could remember to do. Carefully holding his friend, he and Beau connected eyes for a fleeting second, the solitude broken by the sound of an ambulance’s approaching siren.

Beau leaned back into Henry’s arms, silently crying as he was comforted. He was grateful for Henry’s concern and all he chose to do… and yet… his eyes kept returning to the prosthetic lying on the table.

Cover art done by my sister, Ella Sandvick.