Chapter Ten
Livia
A streak of defiance rushes through me. I’m at once so angry that the person, or people on the other side has this power over me but is cowardly enough not to show their face.
But I have to play this game. Right now, everything is too volatile. I don’t know the rules, the penalties, and the level of skill required of me to make it out alive if that is even an option. My pride wants me to flip him the middle finger. My sense of survival wants me to take every chance I can to get out.
I remove my bra, then my underwear and socks. I’m completely naked and being watched by god knows who from god knows where. My imagination runs rampant as I try to envision the faces of the psychos who locked me in here.
“Place your clothes and shoes—everything—in the basket behind you.”
I turn and do as I’m told. I open the lid of the basket, and as soon as I drop my clothes into it, it turns into some sort of suction machine, and my clothes disappear instantly.
What is this? My clothes are now gone, and the thought of never getting them back feels as final as never leaving this place alive. I don’t even have my backpack with me. I left it upstairs.
I fling an arm over my breasts and block my private part with my other hand, but it does nothing to hide my defenselessness.
I’ve never been naked for anyone in my life before. The vulnerability they’ve wrestled from me is so cruel that tears drip from my eyes. I hate that I’m trembling so much that they can see it. I hate that they can see my naked body.
But then a frown crosses over my face. Despite the depth of my trepidation, which is making my insides seize up while I shake uncontrollably at the same time, I’m conscious now that the room is warmer. As if they had turned on the heat.
“What do I have to do?” I drop my arms and hands away from blocking my nakedness, with bitterness and fury present in my voice. I have to show them I’m not afraid. Even though I am. I’m petrified of whoever they are.
The thought of never seeing Faith again breaks me in half. Or… my friends at FFF. I think about my father and the last thing he said to me, which was nothing but a cold-hearted threat delivered in his coldest voice yet.
“Well, that depends on whether you want to live or die.”
I freeze, stuck to the spot on the floor. My mouth dries and seals shut, but before I will myself to beg for my life, the voice comes on again.
“Go to the table.”
It takes me endless moments to get my limbs to move. I feel rigid. I’m naked and exposed. I may be dead already. On the inside, my organs are trying to suffocate me, and all I want to do is throw up. How is this happening to me right now?
I make it to the table, fairly certain that I’m going to puke. Inside each bowl is a small black plastic bag, which means I can’t see what’s inside. What new horror is this?
“You know the story. You know all three stories. Goldilocks has to try whatever is in all three bowls before she finds the one that’s just right for her.
“Which bowl are you going to try first, pretty girl?
“Pick one. Now.”
I close my eyes and pray as I reach for a bowl. Praying is all I can do now.
“Uh oh. Not that one.”
I snatch my hand away immediately from the bowl I reached toward.
“Let’s bend the rules a little.
“The bowl on your left contains ricin. You’ll be dead within thirty-six hours, probably less given how small you are.
“The bowl in the middle contains something called FGV, a privately manufactured poison. Equally deadly as ricin, but you’ll have ten minutes to find the antidote that’s hidden somewhere around you.
“Plot twist. There is no antidote to be found. So you’re as good as dead anyway.
“That means the bowl on the right is the only bowl that won’t kill you if you ingest the contents inside the little black bag.”
“What will happen to me?” My throat hurts just from saying those few words.
“You’ll get to make it to the next round.”
Dear god, what sick fucks are behind the camera?
For all I know, the third bowl could kill me all the same, and they’re just playing with me. “How do I know the third bowl won’t kill me?”
“You know what they say if you break your toy… a little too much, you can’t continue playing with her anymore.”
I shudder in horror. It’s worse than I thought.
I’m being asked to trust three men who orchestrated this property to be designed to catch and kill a trespasser with the most torturous means possible.
My odds are the same whether I ingest the contents of the third bowl or not. I”m not leaving here alive, and if I do, I’m not leaving here as the same person I was when I woke up this morning.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You trespassed on private property, pretty girl.”
“You must pay for your crime.”
“I made a mistake. But it was an innocent mistake.”
“It wasn’t innocent. Tell us the truth, and we might be more lenient with you.”
“I am telling you the truth. I have a fascination with fairytales like my mom—”
“You were looking for something else in this cottage. What was it?”
“No, I wanted to see the cottage as it is. That’s all. I shouldn’t have come inside. I’m not here to steal anything; you have to believe me. Please—”
“Enough. Empty the contents of the black bag into the bowl.”
At this point, I have nothing to lose. It’s over for me. How can I trust the madmen behind the camera and believe I’m not going to die? They’re probably laughing at my stupidity for believing them.
I tear open the bag and drop the contents into the bowl. I’m shocked at what I see and smell. Are those candy-coated sweets? They look like it and smell like it.
“Use a spoon and eat up, pretty girl.”
I scoop up a ball with the spoon that lays next to the bowl. I force myself not to shake, but the task of controlling my panic and fear is an impossible one.
I finally bring the spoon to my mouth. My lips part and I close my eyes as the candy makes contact with my tongue. It tastes exactly like candy, and as I bite into it, rich chocolate oozes out from the sugary shell. I’m frightened to death to swallow until the order comes.
“Swallow.”
It’s like swallowing tar, despite the sweetness of the candy.
“Now eat them all.”
I take the next one and then another until I’ve eaten all six candies in the bowl.
“Open your mouth.”
I bite the inside of my cheeks, barely holding onto the fury that is gaining traction inside me. If they want to see if I’ve eaten all the candy, they can come and look for themselves by showing up.
However, some intuitive force springs up on me like a torrential storm. I’m better off not knowing who is behind the camera. In the flesh, it would mean irreparable danger for me. So I do as I’m told. I open my mouth.
“Wider.”
“Stick your tongue out.”
I follow their instructions, but I hate them.
“Good girl.”
“What do I have to do now?” My tone is icy but also filled with apprehension and anxiety.
“Now we wait, Livia Daniels.”