Bad Life

George.
“Do you want a cigarette?”
Startled, I lifted my head. I had been so absorbed in examining the photograph that I’d momentarily forgotten George. He was studying my expression intently. I returned his sudden, familiar question with a silent stare.
All that remained between us was hatred and disgust. The compassion and affection I once mistook for camaraderie when I thought of him as my predecessor had been burned away at Bluebell. Even after all these years, nothing had changed. The fate we’d reserved for one another was either a life of endless suffering or simple death. Yet in this moment, our faces looked startlingly alike.
We had both lived only with contempt for pain and life. We had come to know each other as intimately as blood-bound brothers. And that knowledge made me all the more desperate to kill him. I understood better than anyone why George chose a life of unending torment over a death without regrets. I wanted to give him the thorough death he had never known.
George shifted his gaze first. He drew from the inner pocket of his suit jacket a memento of Hugh’s. The can was empty. He clicked his tongue and nodded toward Matt.
“Cigarette.”
Despite limping, Matt approached swiftly. With bruised, swollen eyes, he glanced at me and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. George snatched it away, and Matt scurried back to his corner. George placed two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them together, then offered one to me.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh. The tension wound in my body loosened slightly. We smoked in silence. Halfway through, George spoke.
“You once asked me why it was you.”
Ash fell onto my knee. It wasn’t hot. I felt nothing.
“I asked Hugh the same question. Why me.”
Through the mask, George exhaled smoke like mist.
We drifted back into silence until the cigarettes were almost gone. When they were finished, George knelt before me and met my eyes directly. He loosened his tie, undid a few shirt buttons, and pressed his fingers against the silicone mask. With a sharp twist, he peeled it away; the wig fell with a dreadful clatter. His mottled, naked face appeared. He grinned with unnatural breadth.
“You asked why you fell in love with me and no one else.”
He discarded the silicone glove next, revealing skin melted and fused by burns, raw and reddish as if cooked moments ago. His hands looked like clotted masses of flesh, veins bulging grotesquely across the backs.
I stared at his swollen hands, then spat the cigarette butt to the floor. Before the plastic could catch fire, George crushed it under his shoe. He held up a photograph with his bare, horrific hand.
It showed a gravestone engraved with the name Albert. Snow lay deep across it, and two lines of text ran beneath. I read them without meaning to:
“To God’s young son, and to Melissa and John’s young son, Albert, may he rest in eternal peace.”
George chuckled softly. Then, suddenly serious, he studied the photo.
“Albert was a good boy, wasn’t he? That’s what I heard. I never met him… but he couldn’t endure to the end. He gave a pathetic fuss and died. Hugh suffered troubles he didn’t need to. A pointless ordeal. But Albert and I were different…”
As George spoke calmly, each word tore at me. I couldn’t bear his nonchalance about a dead boy—treating his death as casual inconvenience. James died the same way.
“He was annoying.”
“Because of you, things went awry.”
“If you died, Raymond would suffer.”
George treated a human death as a means to his own ends—either for my suffering or his own peace. He and the others never valued a life for what it was. It didn’t matter what that person had lived through. They only arranged a “suitable” death and acted as if the life before never existed—like Albert, like all the predecessors.
I knew nothing of Albert’s life, not even his face—only the details of his death.
“I endured it. Unlike stupid Albert. Unlike trash like you. After pain comes sweet reward. ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) Hugh loved me. We fell in love. I was his partner… Raymond, Raymond, do you know?”
Suddenly, George’s eyes lit up. He seemed not to look at me but beyond into thin air, his gaze unfocused and glittering as if chasing something unreachable—absurd and joyous.

“He was my idol. He was my god. How could I not love him? For him, I would have been his dog, gladly. For him, I would’ve given everything. Because he deserved it. He had the right to everything. But…”
He smiled gently.
“That wasn’t true union, only worship. Hugh realized it soon enough. He wanted not worship but love. So we began to create something to complete us… yes, Raymond… we got a pet.”
I couldn’t cover my ears or stop him. I had no choice but to hear the awful stories whispered by George. It was unbearable. My cheeks burned with tears. I couldn’t bear to hear more.
My voice trembled.
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Just—stop talking.”
Tears fell as I could no longer restrain my fury. George laughed.
“Why? You were curious. You asked why it was you. I’ll explain step by step.”
“Shut up! I’m not curious—I don’t want to hear any of it…”
Abruptly, George grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head back. I lowered my eyes to see him clearly as he spat out:
“Listen to the end.”
He thrust Peter’s photograph before my face, his voice dripping with fury.
“Look—our pretty Peter. Our first mutt with Hugh. We invested so much, and he couldn’t last; he went mad, so we had to get Daniel.”
George tossed Peter’s photo aside and presented Daniel’s.
“That mutt was so noisy we muzzled him; he starved to death. You feed him, and he keeps puking—what could we do? What could we do, you mutt! Joseph—aha, I thought he’d escaped, but he died under a bridge. So when we raised Christopher, we paid attention. But he grew docile, so I let my guard down, and he ran away too. That bastard was caught and sold to the New Contan brothel, Raymond. We were devastated. We poured so much care into them, yet they always died. We pinned our hopes on Nicholas, but that idiot mutt failed too. And then…”
He inhaled deeply.
“Raymond. You came to us.”
“No! No!”
I shook my head wildly as my hair slipped from his grip. I buried my face into my lap and wept. Tears mixed with spit dripped onto my thighs. A hideous hand appeared in my vision. George caressed my cheek to lift my head. His deep blue eyes blazed with vivid hatred. His cracked lips parted.
“You came to us.”
He leaned in close. Our faces were inches apart. He twisted his head suddenly and kissed me. I felt bile rising. I shook violently, trying to pull away, but George pressed my cheek and forced my lips open. Tears fell onto his as he sucked my lips and shoved in his tongue.
I tried to bite and crush his tongue, but he dodged easily, riffling my mouth as though accustomed to my resistance. I didn’t stop struggling, twisting my body in the bonds to escape. George tightened his grip on my cheek and kissed me. I bit his lip hard and ground my teeth against his tongue. He licked my tear-stained face with his filthy tongue and bit my eyelid so sharply it hurt. My body trembled.
He whispered,
“Don’t pretend to cry, you bastard. Don’t lie now.”
It felt as if my breath had been released all at once. Gasping made my head spin as I clawed at him, but his warmth made me nauseous. I couldn’t even sob—I just choked. George stroked my hair gently. I wanted to kill him.
“We could have been happy, Raymond.”
His hand moved from my hair to cradle my neck. His burned hand felt horrifying against my bare skin.
“You and I didn’t need this suffering.”
He slid his hand from my neck to my shoulder, then to my chest. He slipped inside my shirt, touching my ribs and waist. I recoiled.
“If only you had done it right.”
George pressed his body tightly against mine. His hand slipped into my pants, stroking between my thighs. He whispered in my ear,
“If only you had done it right, no one would have died.”
His hand gripped my genitals. My body froze. He ignored my tension and whispered,
“You ruined everything. It’s all your fault. Because you failed, this is how it turned out.”
Suddenly he grabbed my testicles and, startled by my clenched muscles, forced a finger into my anus. I clenched with tension and pain. He chuckled mockingly, probing painfully, then withdrew his finger.
My body went limp. George stood and lit another cigarette. Too weak to lift my head, I stared listlessly at my knees. Tears fell. He fetched a tripod from the floor and set it in front of me. He bent forward as if taking a photo and stared at me.
“Perfect, Raymond! I was careful not to touch your face… the old scars are still a bit visible… but it’s fine. It’ll show up well on camera.”
He tilted the lighting toward me and continued,
“In the past I used photos, but you, Raymond, are worth keeping in memory. Even after everything, you’re Hugh’s final legacy. It’d be a shame to just snap a single photo and send you away. I even learned a bit about handling a camcorder for you.”
George pressed his face against mine and said,
“You never know—if it’s good footage, some porn company might be interested. Raymond, have you ever seen gay porn?”
“…”
“Still crying? It’s useless to act now.”
He gently wiped my tears. My sobs broke free like an animal’s. George patted my shoulder soothingly.
“By the way, Raymond, I’ve always wondered when and how you’d die.”
“Hngh… ugh…”
“You’ll find out soon.”
“…”
“So die with atonement.”
Die with atonement.
Atonement.
His words felt like a blow to the back of my head. My tears stopped as if by magic. I lifted my head, gasping—but it was too late. George had stepped away. I heard the plastic rustle, then a door open and slam shut behind me. I lay there, gasping, unable to cry at George’s final words.
Die with atonement?
I stared at the scattered photographs on the plastic floor. The suited Hugh, George wearing his dog collar—both lay at my feet.
Die with atonement?
That single phrase lifted me from my despair.
He told me to atone? To say it was all my fault?
I glared at Hugh and George in the photos. It took a moment, but anger returned.
I am not Hugh’s legacy—I am his witness. I am the witness to his death and the last witness to his sins. I will not die at George’s hands and let Hugh’s sins burn away. His sins will live on in me. I will never let Hugh’s crimes be forgotten…!
Yet I see no way to live. No path to survive… a way out…
“Haha… hah!”
I jerked my head up. In the corner, crouched like a madman, Matt laughed.
“Die, just die… die already!”
He kept trying to hide his severed right hand as he muttered. In that moment, a not-so-brilliant thought flashed through my mind. But this time, only Matt could save me. There was no other way. I had to do something.