HKS [Minific]

[h_itoshi]

Warnings: This is just venting my visit to the slaughterhouse. That should be all the information anyone needs.

Title: HKS
Fandoms: Unspecified
Ratings: I guess R
Wordcount: 732
Notes: A week ago I visited a slaughterhouse with my class. And I figured I should somehow write what I felt before I'm completely brainwashed and think everything's okay. And since fic is the only way I write I put it here. I did have characters in mind when writing but it feels shitty naming them because I don't want them slaughtered. I might work further on this later when I'm back at slaughterhouses :)))

It's hot and moist, almost choking. The sounds are too loud, continuous running of machines that end in a deafening bang before restarting every other minute, mixed with people walking around in heavy shoes with determined steps, firm voices calling commands he doesn't understand and worried noises from others in the building.

He can't see them through the iron piped cell he's in, can only sense someone before him and someone behind him, but he doesn't know them and his cell is so small he can't move enough to look.

But he can smell the fear, even though it's blended with the steam and blood and burnt hair, the fear is the overtaking smell.

He wants to undress his sticky clothes, wants to rub at the spray mark on his arm that's there since someone sterile looking gave him a once-over, squeezed at him and then painted it on without saying a word.

But he doesn't have any room to move around.

There's food, a tiny amount in a small container hanging off the pipes on his left, but even if he's starving he can't eat. He doesn't know for how long he's been standing here. It feels like years, but there's only been one shutdown of the machines and itchy ceiling lights, and he figures that's one night.

He doesn't know where the others are, how they're doing or if they're safe, but he can't seem to consider it. It's like his brain is as paralysed as his body, running on fear without knowing how to escape it.

He hears the guillotine doors somewhere ahead move, and still he jumps back when his door flies up before him, revealing an empty cell like his own before him.

He doesn't want to go in there, but there's suddenly a man behind him reaching in, and the electricity touching his skin makes his muscles contract in pain. Even if he doesn't understand the words the man's yelling, he gets the message. Move forward or I'll do it again.

So he does. The second he's inside, the door slides down behind him with a bang, and he's locked in another cell.

The door before him is painted emerald just like the last one, but the paint has flaked around the metal nails keeping it steady, and the mechanism helping it move is rusty from the steam in the air.

He doesn't know for how long he waits. He just knows that slowly he's made to go forward through the cells, and the sounds are getting louder and the air thicker. He can hear screams now, and his heart is hammering but he can't do anything.

When another gate opens, he's suddenly looking at a ramp. It's narrow and the walls are high, lined with rubber and he's terrified, doesn't want to go there.

But there's another man, yelling at him and shoving at his shoulder, waving the stun gun and he stumbles forward. Another guillotine door shuts behind him, trapping him on the ramp.

The machine sounds and steam bursts are louder now, and he can hear someone being forced forward in front of him, hears chains slinging and then another deafening bang, followed by a heavy thumping.

He can't breathe.

The guillotine door before him slides open, leading him into a small squared space that's splattered in blood and smells of horror and death, and he's forced forward by a mechanism that pushes the door after him so there's no way of turning back. Once he's confined, he tries to crawl away, but another door slides shut behind him, and he hears metalwork adjusting before there are metal bars coming up to trap his arms, another one under his chin rising it up and he feels a third one coming down over his head. He sees a glimpse forward before his chin is completely lifted, sees a man being pulled upside down onto a railing in the ceiling by a chain linked around his foot, and a man in rubber apron rising what looks like a massive knife attached to a tube and shoving it straight up the dangling man's ribcage. The man twitches and the blood gushes out like a waterfall.

He panics, thinks he'll faint or throw up, but then his head is locked in a position where he looks up a little.

He sees another man in a stained rubber apron, looking unbothered and efficient as he pulls something heavy and metallic from the ceiling and he feels it pressed against his forehead. It's cold.

He almost hears the deafening bang.