To Terrify
Chapter 6
To Terrify
Isabella
The guards flood the yard, clearing it out quickly as blood pulses through my ears, drowning everything around me. The chaos starts to settle, but I feel stuck in place, suspended in the surreal aftermath of what I’ve just witnessed. My heart is still racing, my hands feel cold, and my mind refuses to release the image of those dark, unreadable eyes.
“Isabella! Issa!” Lea’s voice cuts through the haze, pulling me back into the present. She’s running towards me, her frantic footsteps matching the urgency in her tone. She grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me slightly, and starts yelling, her face inches from mine. “Are you okay?!”
I don’t respond at first. My eyes are glued to the ground, staring at the bloody knife that had been discarded in the dirt. The pool of crimson around it paints the earth in stark, unforgiving red. The body of the inmate who had been lying there is already being dragged away, his lifeless form leaving nothing but a trail of blood behind him. It’s all too much.
“Issa!” Lea’s voice breaks through the fog again, and my head snaps up, meeting her worried gaze.
“Gosh, all the blood is draining from your face. It’s okay, nothing happened to you. You hear me? You’re safe now.” Her voice is a lifeline, but I can’t absorb it. I can’t process anything other than the image of those eyes. They’re burned into my mind, refusing to fade.
I nod, barely able to get the words to form. My throat feels tight, and the weight of everything that happened is too much for me to carry right now.
Lea gently guides me inside, her arm around me for support as the snow begins to fall, the cold biting at my skin. A guard drapes a blanket over my shoulders, his expression kind but detached. As I pull the blanket tighter around me, I see Nick coming toward me from the corner of my eye. He walks slowly, purposefully, as if he’s been expecting this.
He pulls out a chair and sits next to me, his gaze scanning me carefully. “You alright?” he asks, his voice low and steady.
I give a small nod, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. I’m not sure if I’m okay or if I ever will be again. The memory of his eyes won’t leave me.
“I understand if you want a couple of days off,” Nick continues, his voice softening. “I think that’s best for you.”
I nod again, my mind too clouded to argue. “Yes, I think so too.” I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, feeling the weight of the night starting to settle in my chest.
After a brief conversation with Nick and Lea, they both agree that I need the time off. I stand, gathering my things as best as I can. I walk toward my locker, feeling the heaviness of each step, the cold seeping into my bones. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is still wrong.
I change out of my scrubs quickly, hands shaking as I pull on my regular clothes. I feel exposed, and vulnerable, like I’m walking around without a shield. The hallway feels unusually quiet, and the air feels thicker than usual. Something doesn’t sit right, but I can’t pinpoint what it is.
I reach for my keycard and swipe it against the reader to unlock the door to the staff room. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open should be comforting, but tonight, it feels hollow. The room is empty. Normally, there’s at least one or two other staff members changing or finishing up, but tonight, it’s completely still.
Strange.
I glance around, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The silence is too perfect, too heavy. My pulse quickens as I step into the room, the feeling of unease crawling under my skin. Something is wrong—something more than just the events of the night. But I can’t place it.
I glance over my shoulder one more time before I move forward. No one. The silence hangs thick in the air as I gather my things.
Diable
The passage of time in this stifling isolation cell is a cruel torment. Each minute stretches into an eternity, festering with anticipation and frustration. When the cell door finally opens, I feel a dark spark of hope flare within me, only to be extinguished in an instant. It’s not her. It’s Lea, her hapless friend, who shuffles in under the watchful eye of the guard. The door slams shut behind her with a thunderous clang, a finality that reverberates through my confined space.
Lea’s entrance is marked by an eerie silence. She approaches with an air of reluctant duty, her gaze intentionally avoiding mine. How droll. She’s a mere instrument in my plan, nothing more. She starts to clean and stitch the wound on my arm with cold efficiency, each motion of her hands a stark reminder of my helplessness. I had hoped for Isabella—her presence would have been a far more satisfying element in my grand design. But Lea, with her compliant demeanor and sterile indifference, will suffice.
As she completes her task, securing the final stitch, a dark resolve coalesces within me. The moment her hand reaches for the last binding, I act. With a swift, brutal motion, I lift my cuffed hands and encircle her neck. My grip is unyielding, a cruelly deliberate act of suffocation. Her eyes widen in a silent scream, her body flailing in vain. Within seconds, her struggles cease, and she collapses, lifeless, a mere pawn removed from the board.
The sound of footsteps and a jangle of keys heralds the arrival of another guard. I wait in the shadows, a predator poised to strike. The guard steps through the door, eyes wide with confusion, only to be met with my swift assault. A punch to his face sends him sprawling to the floor, and I seize his gun with grim satisfaction. His desperate pleas, “Please, no. I have a daughter!” ring hollow in my ears. His fear is inconsequential, a mere distraction. I let him crawl away, a pathetic creature unworthy of further notice.
The alarm blares—a piercing wail that signals the arrival of my men. It is a cacophony of chaos and a herald of reckoning. The time has come to reclaim my dominance, to escape the suffocating confines of this cell, and to enact the revenge that has been simmering in the depths of my soul
Isabella
I finish getting changed and throw my bag over my shoulder as I leave the door. I make my way back to the open courtyard space as suddenly an ear-piercing alarm goes off. I freeze in the spot where I am standing. Fuck .
Gunshots are to be heard in the distance as I hear them moving closer to me. I mentally slap myself in the face as I realize I need to run the fuck away. I run back to the changing room as fast as I can. I fumble with my keycard; my hands are shaking like a fucking vibrator. After several tries the door finally lights up with the green light and I can step in. I lock the door behind me, breathing heavily. I lean my ear against the door, footsteps. I can feel my heartbeat almost forming a straight line. The footsteps click through the hall and as they move closer to the door, I feel like this is the end. They will burst through and shoot me. I run to the back of the room and find a locker open and empty. It is the only hiding place there is here, so I have to get in. I try to ignore my claustrophobia as I squeeze myself into the tiny cubicle.
I close the locker and slap my hand on my mouth as the door gets busted in. I close my eyes hoping I disappear through a hole in the ground. Two men enter. I can see them through the tiny slits of the locker. All dressed in black, wearing masks covering everything except their eyes. They check the room and as they move closer to my locker, they speak up.
My eyes widen as a drip of sweat rolls down my neck. I stay as still as possible until they leave the room after having a minor conversation. I cannot understand what they are saying, but one thing is sure; they were Russian.
Once they leave, I carefully open the locker. I can hear my footsteps as to how eerie and silent it is. I carefully walked towards the door; they didn’t close it behind them. I peek my head out to look around, nothing and no one. Where the hell is everybody?
As I make my way down the hall, the only thing I can hear is my shoes squeaking on the floor. I reach down to my foot and take both my sneakers off. My bare feet touch the ice-cold tiles, but at least there is no sound any-more. I throw my bag over my shoulder and move through the hall like a mouse.
Once I reach the corner I peek my head around once more. The alarm stopped, turning the prison into a graveyard. It’s so silent, eerie silent. Once I realize that there is no one around the corner I move forward. Blood rushes through my ears. I walk past a cell complex, and I can see that all the doors are closed, except for one. All the inmates are inside? Something is off, really off.
I want and need to walk in a straight line forward, but something is pulling me towards the open cell. I cannot peek into it and of course, my curiosity gets the best of me. I turn on my heels and run to the cell, but when I open the door further, I am met with the most horrifying image. I drop my bag to the ground as I scream, immediately clasping my head onto my mouth. Tears fill my eyes, falling down my cheeks. Lea’s lifeless body is lying on the ground. No blood, just a blue neck, and a white skin tone. But she has passed away. I sneak over to her to check her pulse, but it isn’t there. Tears stream down my face as I reach for her hand. I say a mental prayer as I hear a loud bang. I flinch, turning my head towards the door. This door leads to the courtyard. I wipe my face as I take one last look at Lea, ice filling my veins.
I need to get out of here and that door is my escape, so I thought.
Diable
My men cleared most of the place out. Since it is a maximum prison, it isn’t large and therefore easily managed. As snow falls down my coat another guard is brought outside in the courtyard. Every guard is lined up in front of me. One line with men and another with the women. The men are worthless, the women are a different story.
I changed out of the atrocious suit into my black jeans, black shirt, and black coat. My black revolver is tucked into my pants. I put on my black mask like every one of us. It is not a surprise that there was no information to be found on me.
As the last guard is placed in line with his hands zip-tied behind him the snow stops falling.
The courtyard is a hellscape of fear and desperation. Cries for salvation pierce the air, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood. The crowd, now a throng of cowering bodies, falls silent as I step into their midst. They cling to their pleas, their eyes wide with terror, but their prayers are lost on me. I am no savior; I am the harbinger of their darkest fears.
I approach the first man in line, his face a portrait of stark dread. He dares to lift his gaze to meet mine, but it is a fatal mistake. With a brutal motion, I grip his neck, the pressure of my hands a cold promise of death. His struggles are futile, a mere twitching against the inevitable. His eyes bulge in silent panic as I tighten my grip, relishing the moment of helplessness.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, my voice a rasp of cold menace. I loosen my hold just enough to give him a fleeting breath of respite, then draw my gun with a deliberate slowness. The metallic click of the chamber being readied is a cruel prelude. I aim with practiced precision, placing the barrel against his forehead, and pull the trigger. The shot echoes like a thunderclap, reverberating through the desolate space. His head snaps back violently, a spray of crimson erupting from the gaping wound. The blood splatters across the cracked concrete, painting the ground with a grim testimony to my power.
I survey the scene with a detached coldness, my gaze sweeping over the remnants of their hope and sanity. But then, a sharp realization cuts through the haze of violence—she is not here. Isabella, the key piece in my intricate design, is conspicuously absent. The realization fuels a darker fire within me. Where is that treacherous girl hiding? My anger and frustration boil over, each pulse of fury demanding retribution. The absence of her presence ignites a sinister resolve.
Isabella
I debate what to do. Where did the bang come from? I cannot think straight. And before I seal my fate my feet have already started to make their way towards the door. I reach up towards the heavy steel doorknob and twist it. I slowly push the door open, and I wish to hell and back that I never opened it.
Once the door is fully open, I am met with an ice-cold breeze. It’s pitch-black outside, but the courtyard lights are on, revealing the horror scene in front of me. Men are lined up, kneeling with their hands tied behind their backs. Girls are the same, just another line. Everyone is held at gunpoint and one man appears to be dead, blood covering the floor where his faint body lays. The dry tears on my cheek turn into ice as the temperature drops even lower when I realize who the man is standing in the middle.
Every one of these men is wearing a mask, but I recognize him . I feel his dangerous dominating aura radiating around the scene. His mere existence is a force that demands submission from everyone around him.
The low murmur of the men around fades into the background as his gaze, lethal, locks onto mine. I am frozen where I stand, as though his eyes have bound me in place.
His icy green eyes are as bright as the lights of the yard. He towers above all the other men with his height, his demeanor dominating the scene. He changed into different clothes, black on black. A single breath is difficult, my lungs tighten with fear. He knows, he knows that I recognize him.
And as I stand there, trapped in the gaze of a man who could end me with a word, a gesture. My thoughts spin wildly, clawing for an escape, a plan—anything.
I don’t want to die tonight, a rebellion built on hope rises in me, but it’s like a dying ember in the middle of the cold, endless winter.
Diable
My eyes slowly lift from the frozen ground beneath my boots, drawn to the figure I have been waiting for. There she is. The question I asked myself mere minutes ago, in the cold, brutal silence of the courtyard, now finds its answer. Her gaze lands on mine after a minute of wandering them around the courtyard, filled with stark fear . Her bare feet touch the ice-cold tiles, the chill of the groups creeping up her legs. Her lips are blue, kissed by the unforgiving cold of the night.
The courtyard is the stage, and she is the final, trembling act. The final piece to destroy. A smile, cold and without warmth, tugs at the corner of my lips, obscured by the mask. Her gaze shifts downwards, she is afraid to face me directly, and that’s wise. She stepped into my world the moment she caught my attention.
Isabella, if I am your salvation, welcome to hell. I call over two of my men,
“Privedi eye ko mne .” Bring her to me.