Suvudu Universe

by Jared Woods

Chapter 1
A low hum vibrated in her ears and Roxi stirred. Her bed felt unusually uncomfortable, and when she tried to roll onto her side into a better position, she found she couldn't. Confused, she opened her eyes to find she was not in her room at all. Wherever she was, it smelt like a hospital, and a dim ultraviolet light swung gently from the ceiling, giving everything a green tinge and burning her sleepy retina. She tried to shield her blinking eyeballs but her hands would not move. Looking down, she realised she had been secured to a cold metal table by leather straps, and most of her body had been covered by a white sheet as her bare feet stuck out the bottom. "Gareth?" she croaked out her husband's name.

A loud clang of some metal object rang above her head, and she tried to look up but couldn't move her neck in that direction properly. "Oh goodie, you're awake!" a voice sounded behind her. It was familiar, but not her husband’s, and right then Roxi knew she was in danger. She closed her eyes again and relaxed, trying to put her mind away, trying to get into this person’s thoughts, but felt something blocking her usually very reliable skill. "Roxi? Do you know who this is? Do you know who I am?"

"Alan?" she answered in a low voice. Another crash of tools went off above her head, and then her hair was yanked backwards until her face stopped only inches from his. Nostrils flared and she could see small traces of some white substance decorating them, his breath almost suffocating her in a deep fog of stale aroma. His teeth bared and hissed for a second, spittle falling over her nose and mouth, and then he began to laugh. "Yes. It's me Roxi, my darling. How nice it is that you remember! I have missed you so, did you miss me?"

Roxi hadn't thought about Alan in two years or more—or at least not since the break up anyway. The two had met studying psychology at OIAC Varsity, more to understand their own minds than anyone else’s. Roxi remembered clearly when she first began to notice Alan, as he had arrived each morning with a different hoodie, always with some great psych-in-joke on the front like "The Light Bulb Has To Want Change" and "Reverse Psychology Doesn’t Work" (which was her favourite). It all amused her so much that she decided to speak to this classmate, and found that despite his awkward mannerisms and needy reputation, yes, she considered him attractive. They spent more and more time together doing cultured things like debating free-will over expensive sea-food, or watching old french movies, until it escalated into a full-blown romance.

However, this all came to a screeching halt when Roxi's curiosity got the better of her. Whilst Alan was in the shower one afternoon, she leaned over and took a look at his internet history, revealing some questionable websites featuring classy photographs of underage girls. One could argue they were "arty" and not used as sexual material, but the pure volume of the content viewed over such a long period of time was enough data to get the police involved, if she chose to. Roxi didn't, however, instead packing her things and leaving his house forever, avoiding him on campus and never answering his phone calls again. The whole relationship and ordeal lasted just over two months.

A sharp pain whipped through her cheek as Alan's backhand slapped her face. "I ASKED YOU IF YOU MISSED ME, ROXI! ANSWER ME!" She felt fear overwhelm her as the sting grew from the warmth of his fingers, but she refused to give him any satisfactory answer. "What are you doing, Alan? Where am I? How did you even get me to this place?" she changed the subject. Her wrists and ankles were so tightly bound to the table, and this room was unlike anywhere she had ever seen before, so surely it couldn't have been easy. Alan laughed at this, excited by the question, and sat on the edge of the table as if they were back to normal buddies once again.

"FiveSphere, darling," he smirked. "Robert Jeffrey Sternberg? Remember that name?"
Roxi groaned. FiveSphere was the latest craze in The Goat's Nest, a mobile social network application which shared your location with chosen friends. Roxi had become quite addicted to it, and as a result had occasionally fallen careless, accepting a few names over the last couple of months that she didn't entirely recognise. "Yes, Robert Sternberg. Remind me to tell you later why I picked that name actually, I doubt you have any idea," he continued. "But really, it was as simple as choosing any moniker and then using the face of a B-grade celebrity as my profile picture—Mr Mann in this case. One you would most likely recognise without really remembering where you recognised him from, you see? And then by following your Twitter, I had a good idea of when you would be out over this last month. Selecting the perfect time to spike your drink was just a matter of patience, really."
Roxi felt sick inside of her intestines, her vision woozing in the knowledge that this was her fault. "Don't look so unsettled," Alan attempted to calm her with a smile, as her put his cold hand under the sheet and onto her naked leg. "You and me are going to have some fun."

With that, he stood up and walked above her head and out of her vision. Roxi took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to relax once again and control Alan's thoughts before it was too late.

Chapter 2
Gladly the Cross-Eyed Bear had finished his early morning Bible reading and now skipped gailey through the Jay Woods. If he was forced to choose, this was his favourite time of day—the endless summer bathing the well grown trees pumped him full of gratitude for Jesus Christ his Saviour, and he was convinced once again that this was the closest place anyone could experience to Paradise on Earth.

Counting his blessings and exploring the woods with the Good Book tucked under his arm, Gladly knew this area better than most, despite the vast size of it. He was the only bear he knew of that had touched the East Side Fence more than once, and had since ventured to places he believed no one else knew of, including waterfalls made of diamonds and even a marsh made out of marshmallows. But today, he opted to go west, having visited that fence only once before, and knew of a large open space which would be perfect for a nice long prayer session in the ever giving Sun. "Thank God for this life," he smiled, as happy as his name would suggest.

The walk seemed further this time, winding down between the straight and healthy trees, some of which smiled at him, and all of which saturated the air with positivity. Gladly’s feet were tired and he thanked them for carrying him where he wanted to go. Up a steep dirt hill, passing some shoulder-high plantation, and then bursting through onto the other side.

It was just as he recalled it. An oval clearing surrounded by greenery, while the sunlight spread evenly over every blade of grass and tiny crevice like a non-judgemental blanket of warmth. His heart filled with love and he thanked Jesus once again to be one of the select few allowed to live in these woods. His instinct urged him to run as fast as he could until he reached the center of this space, and then fall to his knees in gratitude, but he decided against it for now. First he would go and touch the West Side Fence, which ran just a little left of the clearing. He couldn't wait to tell his friends that he had once again been this far away from the church.

He walked across the heated grass, whistling a hymn badly through his grin as he did so. His eyes, whilst handicapped at birth, squinted and could make out the fence coming closer to him, stretching in either direction in what seemed as long as the distance to Heaven. Such an exciting thought could stay on his mind forever, but was instead interrupted when he noticed a lone figure seemingly watching him from the other side of the barrier.

Gladly knew that only trouble existed on the other side of the Jay Woods fence—a world full of sin and temptation which he had heard about from Pastor Lillo. But as anyone would tell you, Gladly had let Jesus into his heart, and once you let Jesus into your heart, there is no need for fear anymore. With this reassuring aura of love, he picked up the pace to see what this stranger was doing.

The closer he got, the clearer this character became. It was another bear much like Gladly himself, except roughly three times the size and completely white. He was fumbling with a flower, sitting on the other side of the boundary while his eyes darted around as if pretending not to see Gladly approaching. "Hey there!" Gladly shouted, waving his Bible in the air like a peace flag. "Hi..." this white bear called back timidly, and Gladly could pick up sadness in his voice right away.

Gladly began to slow down, slightly out of breath as he approached the fence which was only a few feet high, the white bear towering over it even in this sitting position. "What you doing over there?" Gladly asked once in talking distance, his enthusiastic smile the counter opposite of this larger bear's miserable expression. "I'm hiding," the white bear answered, which struck Gladly as strange, because if he wanted to play hide-and-seek, he wouldn't have chosen one of the largest open spaces in Jay Woods.

Gladly decided that there must be a reason why God had brought him here and was reminded of Hebrews 13:2, which taught 'Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.' With that courage, he stuck his paw out over the fence and introduced himself. "I'm Gladly the Cross-Eyed Bear!" he announced with pride. "What's your name?"
"They call me Bisexual the Polar Bear" was the reply with a large sigh, and they shook paws, no longer strangers.

"Bisexual?" Gladly asked curiously. "What does that mean?"
The Polar Bear sighed again, for this inevitable question had been a heavy weight on his shoulders in recent times.
"Well, do you know what sex is, little one?" Bi asked almost condescendingly.

Gladly did, sort of, and began to explain his idea of what sex meant. It was when a daddy-bear and a mommy-bear made a cub of their own. But in order to do this, they would have to commit to each other by marriage in front of the Lord, for if they did not, the cub would be born into sin and the parents would be sent to the firey pits of hell. It was as the Bible said 'Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.' (Hebrews 13:4)

"Is that what you done?" Gladly asked. "Did you do the sex?"
"I did, little one. Many times. But not only with women. With men, too."
Glady scrunched up his tiny nose and his eyes crossed even further. "No, that doesn't seem right at all."
"That's what they say," the Polar Bear replied in exhaustion.
"But how long have you been hiding?" Gladly queried.
"Since my birthday. Tell me Gladly, I mean, you seem like a good Christian, are you aware of Matthew 19:14?"
"Sure!” Gladly loved the chance to recite any of God’s words. “It goes ‘Suffer little children to come to me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God’"
"Exactly,” the Polar Bear agreed. “And last week it was my birthday. I turned 18. My parents told me I was no longer a child and had to leave Jay Woods behind because I was living in sin. You know what happens to those who live in sin within Jay Woods, don't you Gladly?"

Gladly did. Around midnight every night, a light shone down from the heavens and scanned the entire forest for those who were not pure of heart, and any who had evil living within them would evaporate into thin air. No immoral beings were safe from this nightly occurrence. Many had tried to hide from it and failed, as this potent light penetrated through any material one could hide under, reaching great depths into the ground. Gladly had seen it happen. It's the very reason why so many bears turned to Christ in this area, as this was the fastest way to repent your sins in the eyes of the Lord and then live without fear of The Purity Scan.

"This doesn't make much sense," Gladly spoke up after some contemplation. "You seem like a nice person to me, and Jesus loves all of his children. Like it says in John 3:16 'For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.'"
"Yeah, well, apparently he has exceptions." Bi lay back in the grass, staring at the sky, as if directing his disapproval to God himself.

The two remained silent for a few moments until Gladly got a great idea and jumped to his feet.
"Bisexual! Are you going to be here for a while still?"
"Where else am I going to go?" he answered miserably.
"Ok, I will be back! Don’t move, I will meet you right here, ok? I'm going to go ask Pastor Lillo what to do! He'll know how to fix this!"
And without waiting for an answer, Gladly ran back the way he'd come from to get words of wisdom from the closest bear to Christ he knew, totally forgetting that he didn't even touch the fence before he left.

Chapter 3
An hour had passed and Roxi was exhausted. No matter how hard she tried to access the folds of her brain which allowed her to control Alan's mind, she couldn't seem to do it. This was the first time since the accident in April 2003 that this had ever happened.

For those of you who don't know, many years ago there was a neighbouring town quite close to The Goat's Nest, which was crudely known as The Wanker Town. It was here that thousands of assorted characters were created from the semen of one man in conjunction with the ovaries of one large farm animal, where (despite the moral objections of many) they lived in peace and relative harmony. But over population and the weakening of the source's sperm-count resulted in some questionable creations, and eventually an unspeakable act took place which crossed all lines of plagiarism and excess. Because of this (and as it had been predicated decades before), the entire town imploded and dissolved within minutes, leaving behind a huge cloud of tainted dust. These compromised souls drifted across the air and into The Goat's Nest, eventually settling over the OIAC Varsity, flooding the young lungs of many unsuspecting students.

The effect of this weird event varied, but from what most biologists could gather is that this cloud caused rapid cell growth within the tissues of those infected. Some students died waiting for rescue. Some students survived with intense deformities; tumours pouring out of their eyes as they lost all recognizable features. But some were far luckier. Their cells evolved in a different direction, sometimes to an almost superhero degree without any noticeable physical alterations at all. Roxi was one of those.

Her brain had sunk in on itself to the point that if you cut her skull open, there would be nothing in there. And yet for the most part, her intelligence and motor-skills had been unaffected. This baffled doctors, but Roxi felt like she knew what had happened to some degree. It felt like her mind had entered a non-physical realm, and yet she she still had access to it. But what was even more curious was when she discovered that she'd developed the ability to access other surrounding people's minds too. After a bit of experimentation, Roxi found that if someone was within 50 feet or so from her, she could take control of their thoughts and force them do whatever it was she pleased. At first, she did abuse her power a little bit, commanding train staff to let her onto the subway when she had lost her travel card, or pushing unwanted guests to leave dinner parties early. But she always felt a bit guilty after doing these things, and after a short time had made a promise to herself to only use her new gift when absolutely necessary. Which she did.

And if there ever was an absolutely necessary time—it was now. But Alan's brain was like a brick wall. She couldn't access his mind whatsoever as she listened to him sorting through metallic objects above her head. And this scared her more than anything in her life.

"Alan?" she croaked his name, fearful of striking up a conversation but desperate to know why her tricks weren’t working.
"Yeeesss?" Alan replied, dragging out his word as if pleased Roxi had addressed him, yet still partially preoccupied.
She cleared her throat. "Why can't I get into your head?"

A clanging sound filled the air as Alan dropped an item and then bounded back into her vision, doing a little dance as he did so, the question filling him with life. "Ooh, I've been waiting for you to ask that for such a long time!" he jumped around whilst wiping his nose with his sleeve. With that he leaned over her, placed his hands on either side of her head and hovered his face inches above hers. It felt like he was about to kiss her and her stomach churned at the thought.

His eye-contact remained for a few seconds and then he laughed, turning his head to the left. "Can you see it, Roxi? Can you? Look at my ear!" There she saw a crude bunch of wires pouring out of his ear-hole and disappearing down the collar of his shirt.
"I beat you, Roxi!" he spat. "I beat your fucking mind games! It wasn't easy, but I did!"

He bounded back onto his feet and chuckled as he frolicked around the room. "It took me months and months of searching, Roxi. I broke into OIAC's private records and went through each one. Did you know they kept a file on every victim from the Wanker Incident? Each one in detail! You should see your’s, woah boy! It's impressive." Alan stopped bouncing and looked up to the ceiling as if having a flashback, a stupid smirk on his face. "I found a guy ... Benji was his name-o, I think. Believe it or not, he had the exact same condition as you. Well, give or take a few minor details. I paid him some money and he was more than willing to let me try and block his mind from accessing mine. He hated his curse, you see. Unlike you, Roxi, he didn't want to be a fucking freak."

In a second Alan leaped back to the table, shoving his ear filled with wires back into Roxi's face. Wax had collected and crusted at the entry point and it looked like far too many small cables had been stuffed into his stretching canal. "Look at it, Roxi! Look at my genius! It's all about frequencies, you see. I found by omitting the same frequency into my mind that your mind omits, completely cuts you off! Simple right? Hahaha!"

He jumped back onto his feet and danced some more, while Roxi groaned. This little speech had crushed her very last hope. Alan was a clever guy when he put his mind to it—smarter than Roxi even—and he was obviously very serious about having her here at his will. If he had put this much time into trapping her, she knew the chances of escaping were probably non-existent.

"Don't look so sad, Roxi," Alan responded to her facial expression. "I haven't even started the show yet!" He looked around as if talking to an audience, and then leaned back towards Roxi, whispering "are you ready to see?"

He jumped out of her vision once again with laughter, and loud noises of metallic objects rang out into the room like before. The atmosphere fell silent for a second, and then a huge creaking sound flared up in what sounded like a large door swinging open. The squeaking of little wheels followed, growing louder above Roxi's head until she felt panic sucking the air out of her. A damp smell clogged the room and she got nauseous. Nothing good could come of this.

The unoiled wheels swirled in her ears until they grew louder on her right side, and then stopped. She turned her head as much as she could and her eyes fell on a table exactly like the one she was lying on, constructed out of cold metal and the same height, only a few feet away. On this table was another white sheet, and the outline of a human body was obvious. There was someone else in here, and they stank.

"Roxi," Alan began calmly. "Do you know who this is?"
Roxi didn't, but suddenly, she did. "Oh Alan, please God no..."
Taking his cue, Alan giggled as he ripped the white sheet off of the table. There lay Gareth, Roxi's husband for the last six months. He was whiter than the sheet that had covered him, and blue tinged the corners of his lips and eyes while flies crawled over his naked body. He wasn't tied down. He was dead.

Roxi screamed for a second with a high-pitched expression of anguish, until it was interrupted by a mouthful of vomit which shut her throat right up, nearly choking her. She coughed it out and it splashed on her face, racing down her cheeks with instant tears and she screamed again.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, ALAN??" she pleaded, as her words trailed off into sobs.
"I'm fucking with you, Roxi. I thought that much was obvious?" he grunted with a hint of anger, then walked up to her and slapped her face with the back of his hand again, harder this time, spraying vomit onto the floor and quieting her cries.
"Yes, Roxi," he hissed. "Feel the pain. Feel the heartbreak. Feel what I've felt for the last TWO FUCKING YEARS!"

Alan took a deep breath and then turned his attention to Gareth’s corpse. "She was born to love me, my boy. Me! Instead she settled for you, you ... average piece of jock shit. Well, you aren't looking so sexy now, huh Gareth? Do you think she will still love you like this?" he snickered with pride, as Roxi grew numb but continued to sob.

Alan took another deep breath and then looked at Roxi again, wiping the vomit off the back of his hand onto his shirt as he did so. "Now, let's get to it," he mumbled to himself, then addressed Roxi with: "remember when I told you there was a reason why I chose the name Robert Sternberg on FiveSphere? Would you like to know why?"

Roxi felt distant, but found herself nodding the best she could. She had been admittedly curious about this fact ever since he'd brought it up. This fake account she had foolishly allowed to follow her whereabouts had been playing on her mind, for it was her error of judgement that lead to such an easy capture.
“Yes," she whispered hopelessly. "Tell me why."

Chapter 4
Gladly the Cross-Eyed Bear ran as fast as his little legs could take him, letting off small grunts as his knees ached and droplets of sweat stung his eyes. He was on a mission that he believed he was destined to fulfill, hardly noticing the cheerful trees buzzing passed him while his Bible nearly fell out of his hand after each jump he made over their roots. He had spoken to Pastor Lillo and believed he had good news for Bisexual the Polar Bear, which bounced through his mind whilst he raced westward for the second time that day. He was sure he could save this large bear and continued up the steep dirt hill, through the plantation and then once again bursting onto the oval clearing.

At first his disadvantaged eyes strained at the fence in the distance where he had left the Polar Bear, but he couldn’t make out anything. A quick pang struck his heart as he feared he may have taken too long to return. The sun had already begun to bless the area with its orange evening light because (despite having traveled as fast as he could), the West Fence was a long journey from the church.

But Gladly kept running until, sure enough, a white blurry shape formed right where he remembered it on the other side of the fence, and a sigh of relief could be heard underneath his loss of breath. He was overwhelmed by eagerness to pass on the knowledge he had received from his mentor and friend in Christ, but by the time he reached earshot distance from the Polar Bear, he was forced to put his hands on his knees and try to settle his lungs again, gasping for air without saying a word.

Bisexual the Polar Bear watched this in admiration. As the spittle dribbled from this small creature’s mouth, he envied the life and Holy Spirit that seemed to drive this cub at such zest. Most flattering of all, this tiring action was for the Polar Bear himself alone, and after such ridicule from his community, he had no comprehension as to why he deserved such enthusiastic attention. It was perplexing, and Bi was touched by this Gladly fellow, already hoping that they would remain friends for a long time. God knew he needed one.

These thoughts came to a halt when Gladly finally managed to heave his words out, getting straight to the point without even so much as a greeting.
“You were right, Bisexual,” Gladly sputtered. “Your parents were right too. Doing the sex with boys is not allowed, the Bible tells us so. In Leviticus 20:13, it teaches that ‘If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.’”
Bi frowned. He knew that one already. His mother had literally beaten his face with The Good Book open on that page. But before he could mention this, Gladly continued.
“But Jesus can cure you! Jesus can cure anything! As it says in Romans 3:23, ‘for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God’. We are all sinners, Bisexual. But God loves us! He sent his only son to save us!”

Gladly removed the Bible from his armpit, and hurriedly opened it to a page that he'd marked with a fake leather strip, which had a faded crucifix stamped onto it. He screwed up his nose and closed one eye, scanning the Holy Pages for the verse he believed to be the most important, and began to read the confusing words outloud as best he could.

“Corinthians 6:9-11 ‘Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.’”

Gladly closed the book with a clap and looked up anticipatorily at Bi with a huge smile, but his expression was not met with a mirrored response. Instead the Polar Bear stared at the ground, his frown still fixed downward as he drew imaginary circles with his index claw on the grass. “I don’t understand what that means, Gladly,” was his distant response.

The small brown bear giggled, and was reminded once again of the genius guidance God had provided their people with. The word of Christ wasn’t supposed to be straightforward; it was written to be analysed, providing information just ambiguous enough so that it could tailor itself as an answer to any given reader’s prayer. Gladly himself didn’t initially understand that verse either, but was open to the teachings of Pastor Lillo, who explained how he had come to comprehend it. And that’s why Gladly felt this was the answer.

“It means those in sin can be washed clean! The sin itself is not important, Bisexual. Whatever wrong you have done, God can take it away! And if God takes away your sin, The Purity Scan can not judge you! You will be free to cross the fence once again!”

A sliver of warmth crept onto Bi’s face, and one corner of his mouth climbed upright again. He did believe in God, and he remembered similar things taught in his Sunday School classes. And if Gladly—this little bear with so much love and understanding of what was God’s will—believed it so strongly, then Bi could believe it too. This new feeling of faith translated into a big smile, and he looked back at the face of the little bear. For a second, they held that gaze, both full of hope, now on the same level of understanding and belief.

“Ok, Gladly. Tell me what I need to do.”

Chapter 5
Robert Sternberg, as Alan explained, is a highly successful American psychologist and psychometrician, who not only holds ten honorary doctorates, but is also the author of over 1000 articles, book chapters, and books. His contributions to the study of psychology are many and influential, his most well known being the Triarchic Theory of Human Intelligence (which Roxi had, in fact, read about before) but he was also respected for various other theories related to creativity, wisdom and thinking styles. Alan was relatively obsessed with Robert’s work, which was apparent in the way spoke so passionately about the man, while Roxi just listened—half out of interest over Robert's contribution to a field she was once so involved with; and half out of fearful curiosity as to how any of this related to her.

As if reading her mind (the irony of that idea not lost on Roxi), Alan got to the point. “But of all of Sternberg’s work—and believe me, I know it all—none consumed me quite as much as his Triangular Theory of Love. If anything, I owe this to you, darling. When you left me without a word all those years ago, I fell into quite a state, let me tell you!” he genuinely laughed at this and then continued. “I scoured the Internet for anything I could find about love and hate and heartbreak, which are all such fascinating topics, wouldn’t you agree?”

Alan turned his back on Roxi and then started to jump towards the ceiling with his right hand in the air. Her initial reaction was that he had truly gone mad and this was his breaking point, dancing or fighting some imaginary bugs floating above him. She tensed, the bounds around her limbs now seemingly tighter than ever, until Alan got a hold of a string which dangled above his head and pulled on it. A dirty chalkboard creaked and ached as it followed his hand downward, and she relaxed ever so slightly at her mistaken conclusion. The memories of old scrawlings were still present on the canvas, but had been smudged far from legibility, making room for whatever new thing was about to be written on top of them.

“Can you see this ok?” Alan asked, looking over his shoulder back at her. Roxi nodded, and then wondered why she was being so obedient. Perhaps she felt if she behaved, she might actually get out of here alive. Or perhaps this presentation Alan had prepared for her was admittedly somewhat intriguing. It didn’t matter. This was happening one way or another.

Alan took out a small piece of chalk from his pocket and placed it to the dusty blackness of the board. Roxi always hated chalk and chalkboards—they gave her the creeps—and so she closed her eyes, preparing herself for the inevitable squeaking of the items rubbing together (which would fit in with this restless scene almost too poetically). However, it never came, and when she opened her eyes, Alan had drawn a small but definite dot near the bottom right of the board.

Chapter 5.1: Commitment
“This dot represents Commitment,” Alan addressed Roxi like a student, and then turned to erratically label the mark accordingly with his poor italic handwriting. He then focused back on Roxi, his demeanor much less threatening and manic than before, now resembling how he was all those years ago in class. As he was when Roxi first fell for him.

“The Triangular Theory of Love, according to Robert, states that there are three main components to love. Each of them are important, and in different degrees and combinations, represent the stages and levels of the emotion in question. Seven of them in fact—excluding not being in love at all, but I don’t feel those details are too important for my work here. It is also worth mentioning that perhaps commitment isn’t the best place to start explaining this theory, but in context to my plan with you, it should make sense as to why I have chosen to take this route.”

With that, Alan gave a quick and almost forced smile, then walked down her right side through the space that separated her from her dead husband, disappearing out of her vision. A few moments later, the scratches of metal once again sounded above her head, which were not too dissimilar from someone looking for an item in a cutlery drawer. This went on for a while and Roxi used this time to turn her head and examine her lover. There were no visible marks or bruises anywhere on his frozen naked body; no evidence whatsoever of how he may have been removed from this world. Her lip quivered and she felt all hope falling limp from her being. Just last week, Gareth and her were eating cold ham and Dorito chips on bread underneath their favourite tree in the park across the road from their home. She recalled they spoke about their plans to visit Berlin next summer and then laughed at some pigeons struggling to eat the oversized crisps they had strewn over the grass. She was always amazed by her relationship with Gareth, because while some may have said he wasn’t the smartest of her past partners, his intelligence ran on a different level which one had to discover for themselves. Not to mention he was a social genius, always eager to hear stories of other people’s lives without the need to talk about his, creating an instant sense of comfort wherever he went. That’s why Roxi had fallen so deeply in love with him. It wasn’t about intellectual conversation or culture, it was about making funny faces and keeping the household full of laughter. And that’s why when he proposed (perhaps somewhat prematurely) less than a year ago, Roxi could not have wanted anything more.

By the time Alan came back into her attention, her eyes had overflowed down the sides of her face and into her ears. He didn’t seem to acknowledge this, and instead continued right where he had left off. She listened, but with a heavy heart, the blurry lense of tears distorting her vision so deeply that she didn’t even notice the large garden shears in his right hand.

“Some believe commitment to be the most important part of love and a relationship. But as Robert has taught us, this is not the case. For example, many senior citizens who have been married for decades would be highly committed to each other—probably more so than we could ever imagine—but I think we can agree that they would be lacking much of the excitement love itself is supposed to entail. Perhaps commitment is even their downfall in this scenario. On the flip side, what about young teenagers who are only just discovering the joys of love for the first time? If you had to ask, I am sure they would be adamant about their dedication to a long life of devotion to one another. But they lack the maturity or experience to truly know what love can be; their feelings more than likely rooted exclusively in superficial reasons like, for example, popularity or appearance. And worst of all, what about something like an arranged marriage? Something organized for cultural or aristocratic reasons. That takes commitment without a doubt, but could you even consider that to provide a shred of actual love?”

By the time this question was presented, Roxi had noted the shears. During the speech, Alan had raised them at certain times as if to emphasise important points, but this action did not distract her as much as one may have thought. Despite her current circumstance, she was reminded of Alan’s charisma and their shared interest in human psychology. She felt sick every now and then, losing her air in a wave of fear, but she somehow found the whole thing very stimulating. She had no idea what the shears were for, but even if she had guessed, she would have never guessed it right.

Alan walked once again in between the two tables, and lifted the oversized scissors to point straight at Gareth’s face. Roxi cringed as she thought she saw him stab her dead lover directly in the septum, but no such thing happened. Instead, he asked her one straightforward question: “Were you committed to him, Roxi? Were you committed to this man?”

Roxi paused at this odd query, and then nodded the best she could. To this response, Alan let off a high pitched giggle, once again revealing the more insane part of his personality that she had met earlier on today. “Of course you were, you silly girl! You married the fucker, didn’t you?” and with that, he shrilled with laughter, his mouth pointing at the sky. He then took grip of Gareth’s deceased left hand and raised it so that Roxi could see the white fingers better. “Look! His wedding ring! That’s commitment if I ever did see it!”

And then it happened. Without warning, Alan opened the shears and placed Gareth’s wedding finger carefully in between the blades. Roxi screamed in protest, so Alan turned to her sharply. “Grow up woman!” he demanded in all seriousness, and then held her eye contact as he pushed down on the handles. A loud snip sound echoed as the blades first rubbed together and then met each other, followed by a padded thud as the finger hit the floor. Roxi turned her head away as fast as she could and whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as if this was just a nightmare, and perhaps she would wake up any second. Oh God, please would she wake up any second.

She heard Alan’s footsteps but decided to ignore them, until she felt something tapping on her forehead. She opened her eyes and looked up to see Alan’s grinning face above her as he was using Gareth’s severed finger to get her attention by lightly knocking it onto her brow. She yelped and again shut her eyes as fast as she could, but it was too late, the image of her husband’s appendage now staining her iris. His distinct large finger with chewed nails now pale and alone. The finger she had placed the ring on during their wedding day, now lifeless with that very ring still intact, sitting comfortably close to the pink base which had been deceased far too long for any blood to present itself. Alan has cut it off perfectly, the whole thing was there, the method so precise that she briefly wondered how many people he had practiced on before he was ready to perform that trick for her.

“Don’t look too sad,” Alan eventually whispered in her ear after his cackling. “Commitment is about two people. Together, isn’t that right?” The loud snip sound came once again but much closer this time, and a sharp pain shot right up her arm. Her eyes burst open and she gave a quick scream. Shock filled her mind, and she couldn’t believe what had just happened. This monster had cut off her ring finger too, and he did so so quickly and professionally that she hadn’t even felt the shears touch her.

“Look Roxi! Look! C’mon Roxi, just look! Please look!” Alan begged, and Roxi rolled her head to the left to see him holding up her finger next to her husband’s. They had both been severed clean off and at the exact same point, as close to the major knuckle as possible. The male finger was fat and dull; her finger was thinner and losing colour fast, blood running down Alan’s arm as he held them, smiling. “Now, let’s finish this off shall we...”

When Alan said this, Roxi had felt relief. She thought this meant he was going to kill her, and this suffering would be over. Contemplating her life without her husband was complicated, and she wasn’t sure that she even wanted to survive this trauma anymore. But after an had hour passed, this idea of release slipped further and further from any hope. Instead, Alan had gone to work with a needle and thread, humming the chorus from There Is A Light That Never Goes Out on repeat, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was doing long before he announced it. Which he did eventually anyway, by saying “There!” and proudly held up a mirror for Roxi to take a look.

She had to. It was her hand after all. But when she did, she wished she hadn’t of. Alan had done a great job—it wasn’t hardly as messy as she would have imagined—but the disproportion of it all filled her with faint. Her husband’s finger now sewn onto her disfigured knuckle stuck out much further than her middle finger, and was so fat it appeared to push the base of the rest of her hand outward. The stitches were many and they throbbed, as blood had already begun to coagulate around them. The injury and the dead white finger had been carefully cleaned and disinfected—it was a highly professional job—but even Roxi knew that it was only a matter of time before rejection set in. And with this thought she grew nauseous and coughed up some sick again.

Chapter 5.2: Passion
As Roxi danced between the line of passing out and waking up, Alan washed his hands in the distance and then returned to continue his presentation. Upon noticing Roxi’s obvious internal struggle, he went off again and then reappeared with a syringe full of a transparent substance, which he delicately stuck into her left arm and then pushed down on the contents. A few seconds later, Roxi felt herself shoved back into reality, suddenly more awake than she had ever been in her whole life. Her jaw clenched, energy vibrated in her stomach, and she began to growl angrily, pulling on the straps that held her down as she did so.

“YOU CUNT!” she spat with new found vigor. “YOU WILL NEVER GET AWAY WITH THIS! OH, YOU THINK YOU’RE SO FUCKING CLEVER, BUT IT WON’T TAKE LONG UNTIL MY FRIENDS START ASKING QUESTIONS. AND WHAT ABOUT GARETH’S JOB, HEY SMARTASS? THEY ARE PROBABLY LOOKING FOR HIM AS WE SPEAK!”
“That feeling you have right now, do you like it?” Alan calmly interrupted. “It’s a very clean amphetamine, not unlike meth, just a little bit weaker. It shouldn’t last all that long, but for now I would prefer it if you’d just calm down and let me finish what I’ve started, ok?”
Roxi had no such intention.
“YOU’RE SICK! YOU ARE SICK ALAN! I SHOULD HAVE CALLED THE COPS ON YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE! YOU NEED HELP!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Alan shouted as he bounded towards her, the first time he had raised his voice in such a manner, which frightened Roxi into doing what he commanded. He then opened his shears and placed the blades on either side of Gareth’s skull. “Do you want me to cut his pale face right the fuck off? Well? Do you Roxi? DO YOU?”
Roxi swallowed and realised he was right. This new substance running through her veins filled her character with aggression, but she was in no position to win an argument. She didn’t answer, but they both knew what she meant.
“Good. So may I continue?” Alan asked rhetorically as he lifted the shears off of Gareth’s cheeks and then made his way back to the chalkboard. Roxi watched as he took the chalk out of his pocket again and drew another defined dot, this time at the bottom left of the dusty canvas.

“This dot represents Passion,” he explained as he once again labeled the point accordingly. “This is the fun one! That overwhelming feeling of unexplainable sexual attraction—it gives me the chills just to think about it! Now, everyone knows that passion is an important part of real love, but are also very quick to point out that it is never enough to hold the relationship together in any solid manner. And as with commitment, according to Robert, this is true. However, most love begins with the feeling of passion, which drives people to spend more time together and ultimately build on the other factors. Passion is easily found, but without other foundations to work with, it is merely infatuation which can disappear as fast as it came. Hell, even if it sticks around and develops, what is it without commitment? For example, an extramarital affair perhaps. It could feel a lot like love, but how could it be the real thing in such circumstances? Or, even worse, in a fit of passion, some end up actually committing to each other in a spontaneous marriage or another equally ridiculous concept. Is this love? Or is this stupidity? How long could one expect something like that to last?”

Alan turned around and drew a line connecting the Commitment and the Passion dot, and this time the chalk squeaked as crumbs from itself floated to the ground. He then dusted his hand off on his trousers, and walked back in between Roxi and Gareth’s body once again. There he started to stroke Roxi’s light brown hair and looked at her face, which had dry bits of stomach bile on the cheeks and dark black lines running over her temples where her teary makeup had left their mark. When she refused to look at him, he sniffed and then asked her the inevitable question. “Were you passionate with your husband, hmmm? How often did you fuck him? Did he make you cum, hey Roxi? Did he get the job done?”

Roxi felt her adrenaline stirring at these crude questions and turned to face Alan’s wicked grin. “He was a better fuck than you ever were, you pig.” She turned her gaze away from him again, and didn’t see Alan’s face betray his feelings of hurt. His train of thought hiccuped for a second, then found its track again. He let go of Roxi’s hair and walked away from her, stopping at Gareth’s feet. “You probably don’t want to watch this one,” he warned her, and then swiftly slid the open shears up the inside of Gareth’s legs, leaving a thin trail of dirt until it reached the crotch area, and then he stopped. Gareth’s flaccid penis was smaller than usual in this moment, but his testicles rested comfortably on the screw that held the blades together. Then Alan pushed hard on the handles.

In that second, Roxi didn’t know how she felt. She coiled with tense dread, but also felt her blood growl in fury. Her mind was in overdrive, thinking ludicrous and random thoughts like “those scissors must be really sharp” and “what are the tubes inside the balls called again?”, which she had no control over. A thousand ideas intruded her head, but she knew there was only one question that mattered: what exactly was going to happen now?

She watched as Alan discarded the shears and then pulled hard on the severed genitals until the testicals came free, and threw them on the floor like they were scraps for a dog. Gareth’s testicals. That weird and wonderful part of a male’s body which created the juice of life, discarded as nothing more than trash. Roxi and Gareth had spoken about kids, but hadn’t come to any conclusions. I guess Alan made that decision for them a long time ago, and she felt disgust and sorrow and fire all at once from this thought.

“Behold! The cock!” Alan exclaimed proudly, as he dangled the small appendage above his head. Then turning to Roxi with narrow eyes: “Better fuck than me, you say? That hurt, Roxi. But if this is the case, who am I to stand in the way of passion? Who am I to stand in the way of love? I think the two of you should fuck forever.”

With those words, he took a fistful of the sheet which covered Roxi and yanked it off her. She flinched as she looked down at her bare body. She had assumed she was naked underneath the cover this whole time, but to see her exposed self with the leather bounds around her wrists and ankles filled her with discomfort. What’s worse is that she could see exactly where Alan’s eyes laid, staring straight at her genitalia which were in plain view, her legs set strategically far apart. She shuddered to think what Alan may have done to her before she woke up, and what he was about to do now.

What he did was what she feared the most. He bent down and began to try stuff the limp disconnected penis inside of her vagina. She couldn’t exactly see the details, but he was struggling to enter this slack piece of meat into her dry hole, and she resisted it even harder by squirming and clenching the best she could. Eventually he opted to spit on her parts until they were lubricated well enough for him to stick his fingers deep inside, pushing Gareth’s penis upward into her body as he did so. At this action her stomach cramped and she thought she was going to puke, but instead let off a burp which smelt of stomach acid.

The next thing she knew, Alan had pulled up a wooden chair and was once again working with a needle and thread.

Chapter 5.3: Intimacy
Having her vagina sewn up didn’t hurt as much as anyone would have assumed. It was like small insect bites on her outer lips, little pinches which were sharp but very brief. Now and again she watched Alan work; he would have one eye closed with his tongue sticking out ever so slightly, completely consumed by concentration and obviously taking pride in his work. But she noted that as time went on, he kept glancing at his wristwatch and then sped up his actions. The final few stitches were a little more rushed and careless, which hurt her a lot more as she winced at each entry of the needle. She wondered why he was in such a hurry.

The whole ordeal took just under half an hour, until Alan stood up to admire his work. Satisfied, he reached behind him and silently presented the mirror once again so that Roxi could get a view. It was as she expected: her skin pulled tightly together to resemble nothing more than a crease with dark stitches woven between them, each marked by a small blob of blood at entry point. She couldn’t believe she thought this, but Alan had done a good job, for what it was. It looked neat and to an almost surgical standard. She sighed and put her head back down, exhausted. “Just kill me already, Alan.”

“Kill you? No no, my darling. Not yet anyway. Could I ask for your attention just this one more time please? We’re nearly done for today.” There was a sense of urgency in his voice, and once again it was obvious that he had somewhere to be. She didn’t respond, but listened, and here began the final part of his demonstration.

After drawing the third dot at the top of the chalkboard and labelling it Intimacy, Alan faced Roxi and cleared his throat. “Robert taught us that it would take three aspects to complete the theory of real love. We have covered commitment and passion, which are decidedly important but still somewhat useless on their own. The same goes for Intimacy. This is, of course, the feelings of closeness and attachment; a specific bond couples develop over time. But what is intimacy without commitment or passion? Nothing more than a good friendship, which could be argued as a form of love, but still far from being in love, you understand? Or once again, how about the old married couple? They would share the intimacy, but where is the passion? Or what about those people that may have bonded emotionally and have a great sex life, but don’t really see each other sticking it out for their entire lifespan? Where is the commitment? Where is the real love?”

Alan looked down at his wristwatch and paused for a second. He then quickly turned around and connected the last of the dots with two more lines of squeaky chalk, completing the triangle. He stepped back and looked at this shape, as if forgetting Roxi for a second, and then nodded. Without turning around he began to talk in a soft voice, almost to himself.

“But if two people are committed to each other. And they share the fire of passion. And they are close on an emotional level. Then we have what Robert called “Consummate Love”. The full triangle. It is the ideal relationship. A relationship where the two could not imagine nor have any intention to ever be with anyone else. A relationship where fifteen years may pass and they will still experience great sex together. A relationship where all differences and arguments are solved calmly and gracefully, because they are simply delighted and mutually grateful to be in the company of each other. It must be a wonderful feeling, this love. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”

Roxi’s hand pulsated where her deceased husband’s finger now resided. Her vagina shot stinging sensations up through her body. But despite these weird pains she had never envisioned to experience in all her life, she felt a degree of sympathy towards Alan. His last few sentences had quivered in delivery and when he turned around to walk towards her, she could see his eyes were glazed over by held back tears. She hated him more than she had ever hated anything before, but in that moment she understood something on a deeper level of compassion. He was still heartbroken from her old decision to leave him. He had never got over her and had built up an obsession about some idea of who she was. Some idea about him and her and what they could have been. He thought she was The One, and if this whole episode hadn’t been so insane and dangerous, she may have even felt flattered.

Alan stopped once again between the two tables and looked down at Gareth’s body, the mangled hole where his genitals once were now the most obvious focal point. “So what do you say, Roxi?” his voice trembled again. “Would you consider this relationship intimate? Would you call what you had ‘consummate love’?”

Roxi contemplated lying. She had a quick notion that perhaps if she claimed the relationship was not intimate, it would throw Alan's speech off and his plan may get so disrupted that he'd be forced to take another route. But as she looked over to her dead husband’s body, all spoilt and miserable, she almost felt like Gareth could hear her words. It was as if she owed it to him not to give Alan any doubt or satisfaction, and remain dedicated to her lover even after his death. She needed to see this through, because in the end, and above all else, the two of them were very intimate. There were countless nights where they had stayed awake passed any reasonable hour, discussing life and their future, lost in each other’s conversation and arms, just soaking up these wonders. Those moments were priceless and frequent, and worth dying for. And besides, Alan would never believe her if she said otherwise.

“Yes,” she finally agreed with a confident whisper. “Yes, we were best friends. We were in love, and you have single handedly destroyed this. You have destroyed my everything, and I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Roxi thought these last lines would provoke some sort of a reaction, maybe even a hint of regret on Alan’s part, but instead she caught him looking at his wristwatch once again. He mumbled something to himself, and then stood up straight, his eyes now focused and very serious.

“Yes, you say? Good. Well, I am so happy for you. Really, I am. So much so, that I am going to give you guys some alone time together.” With those words, he turned to Gareth’s body and slid his arms underneath it, picking up the corpse with a hefty grunt. Gareth was a much bigger man than Alan, but even as the inert figure was awkward and heavy, he managed to lift it without too much struggle. He then carried this lifeless person around to the left side of Roxi’s table, and then dropped the body face down on top of her. The weight landed directly on her stomach and the wind got knocked out of her chest. It felt like she was choking as this dead weight did not give her a chance to catch her breath and forced pressure onto her rib cage, tears filling her green eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Alan hurriedly organised the limbs on top of Roxi until they were lying face to face, mirroring each other. He strapped Gareth’s ankles to her ankles; his wrists to her wrists; and another rope was fastened around the waist area to ensure they were tightly bound together. Gareth’s expressionless dead face with eyes wide open rested on top of hers, his nose digging into her cheek, and the best she could do was turn her head to the right to prevent inhaling the rotting stink which flowed out of his mouth. And then she began to sob. This was the worst thing Alan had done yet. The warmth her husband once gave her in this loving position was now replaced by a dank cold and suffocating burden. No love at all. Smothered by the person that not so long ago could have never smothered her. And they were tied so tightly together that there was no chance of escaping this bitter embrace.

She lay there gasping for clean air to fill her lungs, when Alan announced his departure. “I’d love to stay and play with you guys, but I’ve really got to go. I’ll be back in the early morning, Roxi. It’s getting terribly late and I doubt someone like me would survive the Purity Scan.”

And then Roxi realised where she was.

Chapter 6
Bisexual the Polar Bear jittered with nerves, but he fought the shakes. He did not want to let on how scared he was and risk the little bear thinking that he did not have faith in this process. Because he did. He believed in the cub.

After much passage reading from the Bible and encouraging words of wisdom, Bi had agreed to step over the fence and face The Purity Scan out in the open with his new friend. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure this was going to work, but Gladly was so certain, that Bisexual couldn’t help but believe him. And now here they stood in the middle of this empty field, holding paws as best they could, watching as the last of the sun’s rays had disappeared and the full moon exposed the stars. It wouldn’t be long now.

Sensing the Polar Bear’s tension, Gladly squeezed his paw and broke the silence. “Just remember that you have accepted Jesus into your heart, Bisexual. And everyone can change with Jesus. It is ok to be scared, because Philippians 2:12-13 told us ‘Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.’ You must put this trust in Him.”

Bi nodded without saying anything. Belief in God was never a problem for him growing up, as he couldn’t possibly imagine such a complex world coming to manifest by accident, or without some sort of a Higher Power to initiate the evolution of all things. Of course, that is not to say he hadn’t recently felt quite betrayed by God for creating these sexual thoughts within him. These overwhelming urges which were far too loud to ignore and yet screamed with sin seemed like quite a cruel approach to create any being. But as Gladly had pointed out, God did not make him this way to live this way, but to put him on trial in order to grant him a place in Heaven. As is says in James 1:3-4, one must know ‘that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.’ And if the Bible said so, Bisexual was willing to take his flaws head-on.

This confidence waned a bit as the grass below their feet began to rumble. Bi hiccupped and he swallowed air in fright. The sky turned from black to purple and the moon started to blur and fade. It was coming. The Polar Bear couldn’t fight it anymore and began to shake, his fur standing on end like static electricity and the corners of his mouth trembling as he whimpered. His gut told him to run back over the fence to safety, but the small squeezes to his paw that Gladly provided him with, kept his mind level and reassured. He took a deep breath, and accepted that everything is God’s will. God had sent Gladly to help him in time of his darkest despair like some sort of an angel, and God had set up a pathway just for him to be standing right here right now, facing his fears and imperfections just like Jesus would have wanted. He could do this. He could accept whatever happens next.

A huge roar like a giant tin being torn open exploded above their heads and the sky lit up in a blinding light, brighter than anything the sun had shown them any day before. The entire land turned white and both bears squinted their eyes and watched as some semi-transparent sheet extending for miles shot down like lightning in the distance, connecting the sky to the ground. It sounded like the entire Jay Woods was on fire and the warmth reached all corners; The Purity Scan moving rapidly from the back of the forest to the front, rushing towards the spot they stood.

“Let us pray, Bisexual” Gladly shouted above the noise which rolled the earth beneath them like a mix of a thunderstorm and warping metal. “Dear God, Lord Jesus Christ. We thank you for the beauty you have blessed us with in our daily lives and send thanks and praise to your divine presence. We ask only for forgiveness. We are all sinners, Lord, but tonight we give focus on the sins of Bisexual the Polar Bear.”

The sky cracked and clattered as The Purity Scan raced over the woods, gaining speed and sweeping across the land, removing sinners like a charging bull of judgement. Bi held his breath and tightened his stomach muscles, while Gladly continued his prayer.

“Bisexual has agreed that his doings of the sex was bad, and promises t