Dayamond Frankenstein
She didn’t die when he ripped off her jaw. The fingers that he stuffed into her mouth had knocked some of her teeth out and pushed them down her throat as he pressed her tongue down and gripped her chin with his thumb. Her stomach roiled with the fear that she was going to choke to death on her own small bones or his fingers, but it was short-lived when he pulled her mouth more open than it had ever been before. She couldn’t accept what he was doing even as it was happening, even when he placed his large, sweaty palm against her forehead for better leverage. Time had slowed down as her muscles, her tendons, and her body were pulled apart. As she felt her head being ripped from itself, she could only bear witness to the cruelty she could have never believed existed. The rest of her body ceased to exist outside of the screaming numbness of what was happening. She could only kneel there and wait like a sacrifice to something larger than herself. Eventually, she would learn that it was a lie, or at best, a choice she made to give reason to the unreasonable. In this eternal moment, though, she had never felt so small and insignificant.
As he finally succeeded, taking some of the right side of her throat and part of her tongue with him, she fell to the floor like a doll that had been tossed away. She landed on her arms that had been chained to the floor; the awkward angle of it all had her face down more than she would have been otherwise. It is because of this that more blood fell from her onto the cold cement floor than down into her lungs. That’s the theory, at least.
She didn’t die choking on her own blood or tongue as it dangled in the mess that was spreading around her. She didn’t die as the sounds of him quickly shuffling away disappeared. She didn’t fall asleep as her body jerked absently on the floor like a suffocating fish. What she had done, many had called a miracle or curse: the difference depended on whether or not you liked her. In her last moments, her thoughts reached toward the events that led her here as she tried to make sense of it all.
Always the scientist, she spent her last conscious moments thinking about the data she just found. Data that would never reach the public, data that could’ve changed countless lives, saved countless lives. Data that could even arguably end wars. Data that was going to turn more than just the medical field on its head. The crystals worked. Any injury could be healed with the right amount of electricity, the correct frequency, and with sufficient amounts and accurate types of crystal. Missing organs and bones could eventually be replaced, and blood-borne diseases would be cured. The body wouldn’t know weakness or sickness ever again. She hadn’t thought that her superiors would’ve coveted the science for their own gain, their own beauty, and for their and only their own youth and power. But they weren’t as bright as her and didn’t understand the ‘missing ingredient’. That’s how she found herself chased into this abandoned warehouse during the Franken-storm of the century.
A hurricane from the east and a blizzard from the west made the hellion of a demonic love child with the most significant thunderstorm in living history with more twisters than anyone could outrun. I wonder if she could hear them as she lay there that night. What happened next was a hard pill to swallow, but without alternatives, I had no choice but to accept her story of events. As she told it, the storm had started to bring down the building, which was why they were so comfortable leaving her there. Her body was uncontrollably jerking as it compulsorily coughed up some of the blood that was draining into her lungs. She hadn’t been able to stop her muscles from tensing up to reject the thick moisture even though the pain of each jerk had cost her dearly, further spilling her sanity onto the wet floor with the rest of her vital essence. Soon, though, the ceiling was ripped off, opening up the building to the howling, raging wind and piercing ice and rain. Freezing rain and burning sweat removed the last of her vision. Her five senses had whittled down to the iron smell of her blood and the numb feeling that had moved in, replacing the sensation of what was left of her body in its absence.
“It was interesting in that moment.” I looked up from my interviewer’s notes, unable to resist what she would say next. It didn’t help that her voice carried a low hum that was physically impossible to resist or ignore. That had been a side effect of her body modifications, intentional or not, only she knew. She addressed the fork she had been twirling in the air, “I have had several moments in my life where I wanted to die. I even tried on several occasions. But in this moment of certain death, I knew I wanted to live.” A chill ran down my spine because even though what she said was light and soft, almost too soft for the topic at hand, there was an underlying conviction to it that froze me to my chair like lead. For a moment, her eyes glazed over in thoughts or memories; I wasn’t sure which. The moment dragged on until I couldn’t hold on to my curiosity any longer, and it spilled from my mouth like burning lava.
“What happened next?” Her eyes shifted to me with the laser focus of a hawk judging what was before it. It wasn’t a look of cruelty or superiority, but the unexpected peaceful cunning in her gaze made me feel unusual and vulnerable enough that I had to stop myself from adjusting my collar. For a split second, I almost wished she was like the other powerhouses I had interviewed, who, at this point, were practically predictable in their aggression. But then, an incredible and unexpected feeling of satisfaction filled me at the chance to understand her mystery. I would need to unpack that later. I was brought back to reality with a sharp jolt when her head tilted to the side at a forty-five-degree angle as she watched me silently. If possible, my body stiffened more when she smiled.
“Science.” was all she said. She looked down at the food before her and cut it into bite-size pieces. I took the pause to take in my surroundings with a little more depth than I had been able to when I first arrived for the interview. I confirmed my first suspicions that we must be eating, or pretending to eat, in the castle’s ballroom. It was far too large and empty for anything else. The marble floor, suits of armor, and organ in the corner made it so obvious that I was ashamed for thinking it could’ve been anything else. Not that I had been in my right mind when I first stepped through the door. I still wasn’t, but I could appreciate the gothic Art Nouveau woodcarvings that curled from the floor to the vaulted, domed ceiling with the extra time I now took. Though it was hard to tell with the dim lighting from the candles, for a moment, it looked like the ceiling was made of a patchwork of thousands of precious crystals and gems, their different colors twinkling dully, almost like they were a sleeping secret.
I swallowed hard and spared a thought towards my life insurance, which, for better or worse, would only be able to go to my cat. I tried my best not to fidget in my chair as my thoughts raced with the glory, grandeur, and danger of it all if I were to upset her. The rainbow hue of colors sparkling above me might as well have been stalactites hanging there with a million ways to kill me should I offend. I was reminded that I was a guest in a house not made for people like me, and I was never to forget it. If she didn’t like me, all she had to do was send up a thought, and without me ever being able to catch on, she could sprinkle the dust of some raw malachite into my drink with enough concentrated potency to kill me on the spot. That was the rumor, anyway. Whether or not she had the ability to mentally control the crystals around her as simply as her own breathing was just as unknown as her story. Even though something inside me told me she wouldn’t do something cruel like that, it took significant effort not to look for a dark green hue above me.
The Lady Dayamond had reached out to me for an interview. Out of hundreds of thousands of people who slept at her gates, some less metaphorically than others, it was me to whom she sent a letter of invitation. Even though we could’ve been a mile away with the length of this wooden table, it was closer than anyone had gotten since she took over the company. My escort had instructed me not to consider the other people at the castle to be servants. Still, the wrapped attention the many women and a few gorilla-sized men gave me hinted at a deep, personal affinity to the women sitting across from me. Their professionalism in attire and stature was a mask of gentility for the woman they must have viewed as their savior—maybe not servants, but loyal enough that they might as well be. A bead of fear dragged down between my breasts and shirt; who knew what would happen if I stepped one foot out of line, not that I had any intention to. I just wanted to know the truth, more for myself than my job, but I had to know. I had no malcontent towards anyone here, I reminded myself. She sighed and continued. The whiplash from refocusing on her made my vision hazy for a second.
I swallowed down my question of concern several times. We didn’t know each other like that, and it felt too personal to leave my lips, so it stayed behind my teeth, stuffed down my throat where it would remain for now. It fluttered like a live animal inside me, though, something else I would need to study later. I thought after years of being a professional, I had a better hold on my compassion for people who could use it against me in an instant, but in the blink of an eye, the image of her in front of me switched between two identities. One was that of a still vulnerable young woman who had been unimaginably tortured for trying to do the right thing. With her head slightly bowed in memory of the night, her liquid straight black and white hair was draped sullenly down, pooling in her lap like that of a miserable child. The other was of the rumored heartless bionic billionaire CEO whose body modifications were unequaled, who held the life and subsequently the death of every sick person, every person, on the planet in the palm of her hand. It didn’t help that her skin color had changed that night to a corpse-like light blue-green hue. There was something that didn’t sit right with me about that polarity. There was a third option that was more accurate, and I had to control the mindless beast in me who needed the answer, like a drowning person who needed air, if I were to find it.
It seemed like we were both at a loss for what to say, so we sat in silence for a few moments longer. I understood that what she would say next was taxing on her, not that any of this was easy. She had reached out to me to talk, so I thought the least I could do was give her time. I would never be in a rush for something like this. Besides, I knew what it was like to tell a story that bit back when you talked about it. She could have all the time in the world to tell me as long as I could stay right here and listen to her tell it firsthand.
I looked down at the untouched feast before me: rolls and sweatmeats, vibrant green veggies, and little dessert cakes for whenever I wanted them. A thought struck me, and I ran with it, not knowing what else to do. I put down my pen and started to eat. The flavors exploded in my mouth in a way I thought that maybe I had never actually eaten before. There was no fallacy in my intention when I complimented the food; if anything, it might have come out a little too enthusiastic, but it was all genuine.
She jerked her head up, and the innocent surprise on her face startled me as much as I must have startled her. The feeling of mutual softness fed that curious beast in me, vying for its separate interests; it was getting harder to ignore. It was at rapt attention when her face fell into a hardened neutral state. I instantly knew that she had prepared herself for my reaction to what she was about to say.
“The reason that they failed that night is because they didn’t understand the science,” she cocked her head again, chin unevenly tipped up in arrogance, “they underestimated me and what lengths I would go to safe house the information. At that point, I already knew my life was in danger, and so was my work. I had to protect my work,” she said slowly hinting that she still valued it more than her own life. “What many call the secret ingredient to my work was with me that night, and with the storm’s energy, a makeshift operating room was fabricated. Although it was unquestionably unsanitary, it still worked to my needs.” I tried to process what she was saying. Was she calling herself a surgeon and patient in a ceilingless building in the middle of a thunderstorm with a joke at that? My mouth opened in a wordless question until,
“Weren’t you chained to the floor?” A humorless smile graced her lips for a fraction of a second.
“That ended up working for me as well. It was a nice little conductor, actually.” My eyes started to hurt as they bugged out of my skull. I took a second to regain my composure as I reminded myself that she was telling the story, which was more important than me figuring out every detail in this moment. When she saw that I was ready, she continued. “Call it what you will, but it was pure serendipity that I just happened to have everything I needed that night to survive. The liquids, the electricity, the right crystals in my jewelry, the secret ingredient,” the last words she said with humor, as if she found something ridiculous about calling it that. “I had everything I needed to create my, enhancements.” She paused again with that hawk-like look in her eyes. I took it as permission to study her enhancements openly. Since that night, she had found ways to perfect the science behind the crystal technology to replicate a more natural-like appearance so bone replacements could look like bones.
Silicone was used to replicate skin as she worked on mastering a more natural alternative for when flesh and everything between it and the bone had been completely lost. For those who still had some of the meat left, complete healing was a lot easier, but in cases like hers, she had to work from scratch to help people regain their original physical identity. But for herself, it seemed like she had no interest in hiding what had happened. She wore the alterations with no shame, which made me respect her even more.
She had not used silicone to craft skin back to her face and neck; instead, her mandible and what had been modified of her windpipe were visible and entirely replaced with what seemed to be diamonds. There was the faintest outline of blue that was what she must be using as skin to hold in food as she chewed and swallowed but it was so faint that it didn’t hide any of the crystalline bone and cartilage. I didn’t have the faintest idea how it worked; I wasn’t the scientist in the room. I briefly wondered if I would ever get the chance to know more about how her enhancements worked and knowing that if I did, it would be in the distant future. I could clearly see each of her bottom teeth, and even the top teeth that she had mentioned had been punched out; they seemed to be made of diamond as well. Her tongue was a light pink color faintly visible through the lightly blue-tinted but otherwise clear diamond. It was more like rose quarts than ruby in color, which brought on its own slew of questions over the choice. Her slightest of movements made the crystals twinkle in the dim light which only enhanced the beauty and grotesqueness of it all. This was something that was done to her, but she had made it beautiful and made it into her most incredible power. And that made her even more dangerous. When I looked back into her eyes, I saw that they were as cold as the ice that was half her face. She was waiting for my reaction, waiting for me to shudder and recoil, waiting for me to see her as a monster or cash cow. Waiting for me to dehumanize her further.
For some reason, her body modifications never felt uncomfortable to me. There was an ever-present, watchful part of me that understood that sometimes the original image of the body didn’t show the authentic self, and this was unquestionably her most authentic self, as alien as it might be to others. How she owned herself was a thing of beauty and power in its own right. A whole different world many people wished they could enter. Something I sourly envied myself. But that unblinking part of me was surprisingly proud of her and I chose to lean into that instead. I won’t need to unpack that later.
What I did feel for her was sadness that she was considered less by some because of this. That this trauma is what led her to this version of herself, but she had made it her strength, and I wouldn’t minimize that. The monster was that this was done to her. As our eyes were locked, I felt and then saw in her eyes that she received my understanding and lack of judgment. She swallowed and looked down to eat her food. I took a moment to retake-in the people around us. A slight shift moved around the room as they made their own opinions about what just happened.
“I am afraid I am more worn than I thought I would be. Would you like to attend dinner tomorrow night to continue this conversation?” Shock rolled through me at the offer.
“Yes, thank you,” was out before I had a chance to think about it. My escort started to move towards me but was halted by Dayamond’s hand before they could take another step.
“I’ll see you out.” again, the shock rolled through me, making my anxiety zap at me like a small electric storm was beneath my skin. My heart thundered as she stood and walked towards the door. I gathered up my belongings hastily so I could catch up to her. We walked silently down the hallway for a bit before I caught her peeking sideways at me, assessing my clothing choice. The invite had been on short notice, so I rushed out of the apartment with my oversized brown corduroy jacket and black swamper. Feeling awkward at my lack of professional attire, I pushed my large circular glasses up and scolded myself for not being more mindful. With my head dipped, my short, brown, thick, curly hair temporarily blocked my side view of her. When we reached the door, I couldn’t help but blurt out the question I had had since receiving the letter.
“Why me?” I searched her brown eyes, suddenly aware that I thought I just asked way more than I had meant to. Her eyes were beautiful, that kind of dark brown that changed depending on the light in the room. They smiled gently back at me as if they found the question funny.
“Because, I thought you would understand in a way others, couldn’t.” The admission froze me. I felt naked in front of her; a little worm of a snake thrashed deep in my belly, lashing out as it felt threatened. There is no way she understood me like that. No way. But she smiled again, and I couldn’t help but look at the polarity of her lips, one dark by makeup, the other only faintly outlined in electric blue. “See you tomorrow night?” It was a question, a question. Something I could turn down.
“Yes,” I said gently.
“Til tomorrow, “ she said and glided away. I was in a daze, and I hardly noticed the rainstorm that was still falling outside. It barely touched me as I got into my car and drove to the gate. As I waited for it to open, I spared a brief thought about whether or not she could help me when other doctors had turned me away for my unnatural thoughts. If she could, the world would change more than anyone could’ve been prepared for, but for all the good she could bring, would the world even let her now that she can’t go back to pretending to be relatable ever again?