Salvation is Created (Fractured Puppets)

1. The Masquerade

Chapter 1

The Masquerade

“C hild. Pass the rolls.” Stephan—my father —isn’t facing me, but I know who the request is directed at.

We are sitting at an elegant wooden dinner table in our dining room. Since my father is considered an Official in this country, the Government gifted him many items, one of which was this home.

“Yes, sir.” I lean carefully over the table, ensuring my sleeves do not drag against the counter. I am careful in my movements, precise. I don’t want to upset him.

My brother , Bryton, sits to the right of me, and across from him are two men who have been around more and more. They are watching the encounter with confused expressions.

They are not the normal guests my family keeps. They both appear to have souls.

I turn my attention to one of the men, Niko. His face hardens and full lips flatten into a line. His eyes slide over my black eye that formed this morning in the shape of Stephan’s fist. They continue to my sunken cheeks, shifting uneasily over the bruise around my neck. He almost appears bothered.

Has he noticed I’m not actually eating any of this food? That I am just a centerpiece to sit here and listen to orders? Does he even care?

I find his eyes. They remind me of a rainy day; they are a swirling of hypnotic blues and eerily luminescent. I feel like he is trying to relay a message to me, but I cannot decipher it, and instead flick my attention to the other guest, Viktor. In contrast, his eyes are dark, almost the color of charcoal. His grip on his fork is tight, his knuckles white. His attention lands on the purpling around my neck, and the utensil he is holding clatters to the plate.

These guests have not seen me in the light of day yet. We have not all sat together at a table like this before. I have only witnessed them in passing before I was ushered away.

Viktor’s action has not caught any attention from my family , and without any more delay, I slowly move the basket to my left, to Stephan, and offer the desired rolls. He still isn’t looking at me as he grabs one and puts it on his plate before shooing the rest away.

A TV screen behind him flickers on. My eyes go up to the scenes playing out. I know what it is.

This country’s most gruesome yearly ritual.

I cannot help the tremble that assaults my body. A roll drops from the basket.

I do everything in my power to catch it in time.

I am not fast enough.

My father slams a fist onto the table as it bounces across the marble floor. “Bryton, put your sister in her room.” He turns to the guests. “Please ignore her. She isn’t used to watching the Masquerade yet.”

I can feel the stares of the two men as Bryton grabs me by my bicep and tugs me out of my chair.

His hold is bruising as he wrenches me away and down the hallway into Stephan’s bedroom.

“Fucking clumsy, stupid girl,” Bryton snarls the words in my ear as his other hand finds the curve of my ass. “If we didn’t have clients, I would teach you a fucking lesson.”

My stomach fills with a thousand razor blades. I do not want to imagine what my slip up will cause.

But there is something I know for certain: Stephan and Bryton will come for their pound of flesh.

They may force me to call them father and brother , but they are not my blood. We have no relation.

I am their prisoner. Their whore. Their bitch. I was caught and given to these disgusting men as a prize. Another item. Another gift for Stephan being so important to this country.

“Yes, sir.” Leaves my lips a soft whimper as he pushes me into the closet that doubles as my bedroom.

I hear the lock clink into place as I fall back onto the pallet that lies on the floor, a single lamp on the ground beside it.

Even in this horrible space, there is still a TV tethered to the wall. My eyes find it, and once more, dread slinks into my gut.

This country is a vile place, but the true evil? The Masquerade.

A yearly chaotic game held and streamed on live TV for the country to watch.

The players of the game are people who have been Sponsored. They weren’t given a choice. Just like I haven’t been. Just like so many in this country are not.

They are forced to fight for their lives until one is deemed the winner. Except even the players are treated better than I am. They’re given a fighting chance. They have an opportunity to win. To escape.

I cast my gaze behind me. I have exactly one personal item. A teddy bear my sister, Katarina, gave to me to keep safe. I haven’t seen her in years, but she’s why I don’t fight back. Why I accept my fate. They won’t break her if I don’t struggle. I will act like the pitiful broken woman, but internally, a fire burns.

I spent years in my Faction as a fighter.

I am meant to destroy. I am trained to defend, to attack. But in this house, I will not protect myself, if only for my sister’s sake.

Pulling the stuffed animal into my arms, I rock myself for comfort. To soothe the rage that slithers down my spine.

Katarina is the only connection I have left in this world. The only person that keeps me from losing my mind. I hope that one day we will be reunited.

I am not sure how long I sit before sound comes through the TV.

Looking up at the screen, I see a man sitting on a leather chair on a stage, his dark hair falling over the top of the mask on his face. His monstrous eyes are a void staring directly into the camera. “Hello, lovely viewers, the first round has been completed. This year, we started with two hundred-fifty players. Now, only one hundred ninety-seven of those remain. Here are the losers. Unlike in the past, this year, we will have five winners at the end of this.”

The TV screen flashes until it no longer shows the man. Instead, it morphs into the images of several players. The deceased. All of the images are of them after their deaths. Their masks removed, but collars still in place.

I move my hand tentatively to the bruise on my neck. There will be a collar resting around it soon enough. When Stephan and Bryton decide it is time for my punishment.

My attention flickers between my door and the TV screen. I cannot discern which of the two evils I would prefer, but sometimes, when I am lying bloody and bruised, I wish more than anything to be taken and put into the Masquerade.

Given the chance to fight for my freedom.

Because here, in this house? With these two evil men? Without the ability to fight back?

There is no hope.

There is only pain.