11. You Couldn’t Even Kill Him First?
Chapter 11
You Couldn’t Even Kill Him First?
Raven
Present Day
W hen I opened my eyes again, I wanted more than anything to not be in the middle of another fucking game. I wasn’t fully healed, mentally or physically. We hadn’t been able to talk with Enzo yet, to clear the air. Except now there wasn’t any time.
We had fallen asleep after fucking, after talking about Sparrow. I didn’t expect to be pulled into another game so soon, except now here we were, but where exactly was here ?
Sitting on cool metal bleachers I was surrounded by the remaining players. There weren’t many of us left. We were in a large industrial room, and directly in front of me was a wall sized window. Through the large window, on the other side, was a much smaller space. It almost appeared to be a medical room.
Except it didn’t have much equipment. It just had the surgical table, a counter filled with tools and weapons, and a very large metal pool looking thing that took up the remaining space.
I didn’t have any clue what this might be, but it didn’t look good.
Attempting to move, I quickly realized I was attached to the bleachers, handcuffed by my wrists and ankles.
“Hello and welcome to our eighth game together.” The mechanical voice echoed around the room, I tried to find where it was coming from or a screen with The Host, but there wasn’t one.
My anxiety skyrocketed.
What is going on? Where is The Host? And why is his disappearance causing waves of unease to skitter down my spine?
Instead, I tried to find Jayce or Levi. I was directly in the center of the bleachers and it only took a few moments to locate both men. Levi was a few rows up with Enzo and Maverick. Jayce was to my right a few seats over. We seemed to be the only team not sitting together.
Another point towards being targeted. How would we form a plan?
197 and his crew—194, 195, 196—sat directly in front of me. Turning around I found 32 right behind me with her team—33 and 34—they were the only other women left in this game. She offered up a soft reassuring smile that I returned.
Discovering my allies alive and well calmed my nerves a bit. I could almost ignore that Ivan and his team were only a few rows behind me. Could almost ignore how the back of my head was itchy from Ivan’s stare. The scars on my wrists, the ones that he had left behind, ached underneath my restraints .
“The rules on this game are straightforward. Your job is to get as many vital organs as you can into the barrel using the tools on the counter and the body on the table to help.” The robotic voice echoed around the room. “Please note that for this game, we are looking for you to place the ten most vital organs in the barrel. Anything not on our list will not be accepted.”
The light in the surgical room flickered off. I tried to discreetly wipe my sweaty palms against my scratchy sweatpants. There were too many variables, I couldn’t strategize. And what does that even mean? Organs in the barrel? Were we going to be surgeons? What were the ten vital organs on their list, are they not going to tell us? Are we supposed to just guess?
197 leaned back against my knees, his head turning until his dark eyes found mine. An inescapable forest. “There you are. My little survivor, I missed you.” His lips curled into a half smile. “Better stay alive again for me–we’re almost to the end now.”
I wanted to argue, to be angry with the man. But I had to admit to myself I was relieved to see him breathing. That the sight of him caused my heart to pound into my ears. To his right, 195 twisted around as well and offered me a soft grin. His lip was split and the part of his cheek I could see with the mask on was bruised. He didn’t appear bothered by it, but I was.
How did that even happen? He looked fine the last time I saw him. When he was leaving marks on my neck to satisfy the rules of a game, successfully winning the round from it.
And then their team had been exempt from the puppet game because of that.
197 shoved his shoulder into 195. “Turn back around,” he gritted.
The light in the surgical room flashed back on, pulling my attention away.
There was now a body strapped to the operating table inside .
A hood over their head, a collar attached to the hood securing it in place, their limbs strapped down. They wore a long-sleeved loose shirt and sweatpants, but from this distance it was difficult to discern their gender.
Why are they tied there if they aren’t ali—
I didn’t have time to finish the thought before the “body” began to writhe about. I couldn’t hear anything, but it was evident they were alive. Their nails scratched down onto the table below as they continued to trash against their restraints.
“There will be fifteen minutes to complete this game. We currently have thirteen teams, and that is just a few too many for our next game. There will be eight teams that win. The five teams that have the least number of organs in the barrel at the end of their time will lose. The team that has the most organs in the barrel with the fastest time will win something special.” I finally found that the mechanical voice was coming from the speakers above. “The Sponsors have chosen the order for this game. Up first will be 132 and 131.”
Two men I vaguely recognized from previous games stood shakily in front of me. They were both large and stocky. I wondered if that would give them an advantage or disadvantage.
Two guards walked up grabbing the men and whisking them away. A few minutes later, they were shoved inside the surgical room, and a moment after that, noise flooded our space.
We could now hear everything from inside the surgical room. The muffled screaming of the person on the table, the two men discussing their plan of action.
“Begin!” The robotic voice cut through the sounds, followed by a piercing alarm.
A timer to my right popped up, counting down from the fifteen-minute mark .
The two bulky players looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. They sped to the counter, each grabbing a scalpel and nothing else.
“Idiots,” 32 muttered under her breath.
The players didn’t pause. They didn’t even kill the person on the table first, they just began slicing open the squirming body. They cut into the shirt, leaving the man’s chest bare, and carved a T across his chest.
After several minutes of yanking and squelching, I watched in horror as they finally got what they were looking for. The person on the table had long since gone silent as they tugged out their heart, it was a bloody mess as they threw it into the barrel.
An alarm sounded right as it landed.
“Drop your tools, you are out of time. Congratulations, you have secured one organ.”
My empty stomach turned uneasily, and I swallowed down bile. I was still incredibly weak. Would I have the mental–let alone the physical–strength to cut open another living being? Did I even want to? Or would I leave it to Jayce, force this upon him?
The guards returned the players to us, disgusting and covered in blood.
“You couldn’t even kill him first?” I didn’t mean for the words to leave mouth, but I couldn’t help it.
131 turned to me with a smirk as he was shackled back in place. “Why bother?” He spit on the ground. “You want me to kill you first before I ram my dick down your throat?”
He sat directly in front of 195, and I almost didn’t see as 195 pushed forward, extending his shackles as far as he could go. He swiftly headbutted 131, crunching his nose.
“Break it up!” The guard closest to the men pushed 195 back into his seat and kicked 131 forward .
131 grumbled, but didn’t say anything else. My eyes swiveled to the back of 195’s head.
What was that?
I paid little attention to the next several rounds. Two teams followed suit leaving the people alive as they hacked away into their bodies. They each got the heart and the liver. The fourth, fifth, and sixth teams stabbed the person and were able to secure four organs each. The seventh team also killed the captive on the table, but they used a saw to try to get more organs out; it didn’t work and they only ended up with one.
In the eighth round, 32’s team was called.
As they were being secured by the guards, I glanced around again. Sitting on the bleachers surrounded by teams covered in the blood of their murder victims was oddly surreal while simultaneously nauseating.
Would I look like them? Like a heartless monster backed into a corner and forced to kill or be killed?
Except there was always something off about these games. And even with The Host suspiciously missing, my mind flickered through the rules. But that was the thing, the rules were never very clear, always purposefully vague.
Where is the loophole this time?
A siren permeated the space. 32 was now inside the room with her two teammates. She held a scalpel while one held metallic scissors and the third held…uh…a clamp?
“Follow my lead.” The first thing 32 did was cut open the long-sleeved shirt. Even from a distance, I could make out the huge tattoo across the man’s collar. Heather .
“That’s my husband.” 34 gasped and started screeching, “That’s my husband!” She reached forward to protect the man with her body .
The man’s muffled screams turned to sobs as he jerked on the table, the restraints not allowing him much movement.
“You didn’t care when it was mine,” 32 stated emotionlessly, shouldering 34 back. In one sure strike 32 plunged the scalpel deep into the man’s heart until he no longer moved.
Whispering on the bleachers ensued. Had the other players killed someone they knew? Tortured a loved one? Or was this a one-off situation?
Searching for Jayce, I found he was already watching me, a sad gentle smile on his face.
He inclined his head. Are you okay?
Nodding softly, I raised a single shoulder just an inch.
Yes, as well as I could be.
Spinning to face forward, I returned my attention to the bloodbath below. 34 was sobbing and rocking herself on the ground while 32 and 33 made quick work of dismembering the man. I remembered Maverick saying that 33 was a biology teacher at a Facility. She must have dissected animals before because she moved very quickly, and when their timer ran out, they had six organs, which was more than any of the teams prior.
32 and 33 walked out of the room, but a guard was forced to physically carry 34. I had gone through enough breakdowns to identify one. When the three women were settled behind me, I turned to them. 34 was placed between her teammates.
“33 help her, she’s going to start hyperventilating. Get her to breathe full deep breaths.”
33 jerked her head in a nod before giving her attention to the woman.
When I twisted back around, it was time for the next round to begin.
Ivan and his team stood up, walking to the surgical room .
Once they made it inside, Ivan stared directly at me. He didn’t take his eyes off mine as he cut off the hood of the captive on the operating table. As he showed the face of the person.
My breath caught. I recognized the person tied to the table. It was one of his “pets” that had lived in the house when I had. He was a bit older now but couldn’t be over twenty.
Why? Why is this his person? Ivan won’t care about killing him.
As if hearing my thoughts, Ivan didn’t hesitate before gesturing to his men. They each brought down hatchets on the four limbs of the person that lay on the table.
A disgusting barrage of squelches combined with the spray of crimson.
Maybe one day I would block out the image, but I would never forget his blood curdling screams. One moment he was silently crying, the next he was screaming and begging for a god that would never save him.
Since these games had started, I had seen countless horrors. I had kept it together, not shown anything outwardly, but this time I could not contain it.
Tortured by Ivan until the very bitter end.
Will that be me too?
A mixture of anger, disgust, crippling sadness spread to my core . As if the darkness of Ivan’s soul was suffocating my own.
I fell forward as best I could in my shackles, bile rising up my throat as I dry heaved. I hadn’t eaten in awhile, and all I tasted was sour acid as my stomach continued to purge all that it could.
My mind swirled uneasily as I stared at my knees.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
Something touched the top of my head as I continued to unravel.
“He’s dead now. You need to look. You need to formulate a plan,” 197 grunted with a hint of warmth .
His words steadied me. Reminded me that I wasn’t alone. That Ivan would be able to witness my breakdown. As would the rest of the players.
Stiffening, I straightened back up, and found it was 197 that had leaned back against me. He and 195 were pressed shoulder to shoulder to shield me from most of the room’s watchful eyes.
“Thank you,” I murmured gratefully.
Neither 197 nor 195 turned around, but 196, who sat to the right of 195, did.
He sneered at me, his dead gray eyes engulfed in anger. “You aren’t worth it.”
195 elbowed him in the ribs hard .
I finally broke my attention away from them all, finding the barrel. The entire man, limbless, was now inside, and as 197 had said, he was dead.
Ivan’s team hadn’t bothered to extract the organs from his body.
“Congratulations, you have secured ten organs,” the mechanical voice advised.
The gasps broke out across the room as players began to speak in hushed whispers.
“That isn’t fair!” 131 snapped, but he was ignored.
A thought pulsated to the front of my brain.
“Why do they even have to die?” I whispered.
197 rolled his bulky shoulders but said nothing else.
“Up next, we have 20 and 58.”
Jayce and me.
My ears began to ring. I wasn’t ready, but I didn’t have time to get my bearings before my restraints gave way, and a guard was tugging me up.
I hissed in pain as his rough hold pulled at my stitches.