6. Aliana
ALIANA
I thought my life was over when I was twelve and had my first period while out on a training mission with a bunch of other kids. The blood stained my pants, and my face turned beet red as the other children—including a certain asshole named Chase—laughed and pointed at me.
I thought my life was over a second time when Jayson Lionel took my virginity and then bragged about it to the entire camp, a shit-eating grin on his face as he called me “easy” and “desperate,” much to my chagrin.
And then I realized I didn’t know the meaning of pain—the meaning of absolute and utter agony—until my parents didn’t return home from their mission to gather supplies.
Until I lost the two people who loved me unconditionally and I loved in return.
They were my entire world, and when they died, my life changed irrevocably, the earth as I knew it tilting on its axis.
And now…
Now, my life is ending all over again as my clothes are forcibly removed from my body by leering night visions.
I bring my hands up instinctively to cover my breasts as Chase obediently strips out of his own clothes beside me, his teeth gritted and his expression distorted with unfettered rage. Unlike me, he doesn’t bother to cover himself, standing proud and strong with a fierce scowl on his face.
His courage bolsters my own, and I take a deep breath before dropping my arms to my sides.
My stomach muscles tighten instinctively, because god , it’s hard to act brave when all you want to do is fall apart at the seams, to collapse and allow the tides of this fucked-up world to drag you off to sea.
Chase’s eyes flick in my direction for a fraction of a second, and I swear his cheeks tint pink before he focuses his attention on the wall opposite us.
The rest of the humans—still sobbing from their injuries—are forced out of their clothes as well, and my heart sinks to the bottom of my feet when I take in their nude bodies.
Bruises, lacerations, burn marks…
Bile burns my throat as I force myself to stare pointedly ahead, to keep my expression perfectly impassive, not a crack in my immaculate mask. Fear boils in my belly as I wonder what, exactly, is about to happen. I can handle a beating, but anything else?
Goose bumps pebble on my skin, and icy fear encases my heart in an iron vise.
You’re strong, Aliana. You can survive whatever they throw at you.
As if Chase can hear the war rampaging inside of my mind, he leans forward to whisper adamantly, “You’ll be okay. I promise that you’ll be okay.”
“You can’t promise that,” I mutter back, though my expression doesn’t change, remaining flaccid and indifferent even as terror siphons all of the oxygen out of the room.
We’ve moved farther down the hall after the night visions wrangled all of the humans back to their feet—ironically through the previously locked door—and now stand directly beside a black curtain that rises all the way to the ceiling.
The voices I heard before are deafeningly louder now, the chatter best described as mundane and conversational.
It almost seems to mock the fear cascading through my veins in rippling, white-hot waves.
“We’re going to get out of this,” Chase vows.
The surety in his voice snaps my head in his direction, but he refuses to meet my eyes. A muscle in his jaw bunches up as he stares blankly ahead.
And then, in a softer, more subdued voice, he adds, “Especially since I’m the one who got us into this mess in the first place.”
My brow furrows.
Eon’s final word plays on repeat in my head. Did Chase really…?
I want to say something, but my tongue feels heavy in my mouth, as if it’s made of concrete. All I can do is gape at him in wide-eyed horror, focusing on the way his ears pinken, his eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches.
“You didn’t…?” Disbelief and dread lace my tone.
“Let tonight’s festivities begin!” an exuberant voice exclaims from somewhere beyond the curtain, and a splatter of applause rings out through the room, interrupting the previous chatter.
My heart takes a leaping nosedive straight off a cliff and settles somewhere in the vicinity of my toes. I’m distantly aware of my pulse hammering against my skull, but it’s a whisper of sound. Inconsequential.
This is it.
This. Is. It.
“Please, no. No! No!” An older woman—perhaps in her mid-forties—is dragged forward by one of the night visions, his clawed fingers digging into her upper arm.
Like the rest of the humans, she’s painfully frail, the outline of her ribs visible beneath her yellowish skin.
Dark hair streaked with gray frames a face that might’ve been pretty once upon a time but is now aged with terror, pain, and unspeakable horrors.
God, I want to hate these people for what they did to Lucas, but seeing them like this…
That swell of pity I previously beat down returns with a vengeance, smothering me in its intensity.
Two night visions pull apart the curtains as the woman is dragged forward kicking and screaming, and I get a glimpse of a motherfucking stage before the drapes shut once more.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck .
“Stock number fifty-four is up for grabs tonight,” the voice from before declares as the woman’s sobbing intensifies.
Chase stiffens beside me at the monster’s words, and out of my periphery, I see his hands curl into tight fists.
“Female,” the unknown man continues, his tone analytical as if he were merely discussing the weather and not a goddamn human being.
“She answers to the name of Lila currently, though you can rename her. We believe her to be between forty and fifty years of age. A great set of tits, though they have begun to sag with age.” He chuckles darkly, and answering laughter reverberates throughout the room.
I feel fucking sick, and all I can picture is jamming my knife into each and every one of their faces—despite the fact I have no idea what any of them look like. That doesn’t seem to stop my imagination, however, as I envision stabbing blurry figures over and over and over again.
A fun fact—most monsters bleed red, just like humans do. And I know that a lot of them can bruise as well.
“Sadly, she isn’t a virgin,” the man continues in a mockingly sad voice. Grumbles of anger and annoyance emanate from the crowd before they’re quickly silenced. “But I’m sure her pussy can handle a few cocks.”
More laughter.
God, I’m going to be sick. What the fuck is wrong with this world?
“Fucking hell,” Chase hisses, his blond brows drawing together. A sort of desperate, manic glint manifests in his green eyes as he swings his head to stare down at me. “Aliana—”
“S-s-silence,” a night vision snaps, whacking Chase along the back of the head.
“Get your daggers ready. We’ll start the bidding at twenty thousand!” the auctioneer enthuses.
Daggers? What the fuck does he mean by that?
The man begins to recite what sounds like gibberish but I realize pretty quickly are names as the woman cries and cries and cries. God, those anguished sobs will haunt me for years to come, maybe even my whole life. They echo in my skull like a damn drum.
And then… “Sold!”
Polite applause fills the room, and I wait for the woman to be led back through the curtain. I don’t know what I want to do—comfort her, perhaps, or maybe offer her reassurances that neither one of us will believe—but she doesn’t come back.
Instead, another human is dragged unwillingly through that pitch-black curtain and onto the stage, and the whole process begins again.
Three more humans endure the same treatment, and I brace myself each and every time for the dreaded “sold” to reverberate throughout the mansion, sparking fear in each of us.
And then it’s my turn.
The night vision doesn’t say anything to me as he grabs my upper arm and all but drags me forward.
Unlike the rest of the humans, I don’t bother to dig my heels in or fight back.
As I said before, I’m a realist, and though every fiber of my being urges me to fight, I know it’ll be futile.
Night visions guard the way we came in, and who knows what the fuck is waiting for me beyond the curtain.
All I can do is pray like hell that I’ll survive whatever they have in store for me.
“Aliana!” Chase roars, lunging forward, but he’s quickly stopped and restrained by two night visions.
I refuse to look back at him—doing so will break the stone-cold expression I’ve adopted, mar it with either fury or terror. I lock those emotions away, lock all emotions away. I’m a rock. And I will not let them break me.
I’m dragged unceremoniously onto the stage, where the spotlight is so blinding, it’s nearly impossible to see a single face in the crowd. I see vague shapes. Lumps. A long tentacle rising up out of the shadowy sea.
A thick, tall figure in a suit wearing a mask, danger swirling through the air around him like mist, is the last thing I see before the auctioneer clears his throat and garners my attention.
The auctioneer has pinprick horns and snake-like eyes. When he smiles, I spot four rows of serrated, yellow teeth.
A shiver works its way down my spine, but that’s nothing compared to the silence that settles over the crowd.
I can feel multiple eyes on me— hundreds of eyes—and I desperately want to cover myself, to hide my naked body.
I consider swinging my waist-length black and white hair around to shield my body.
But I don’t.
I keep my chin up, emulating a confidence I don’t truly feel, and stare stubbornly ahead. Fear performs a chilling song and dance inside of my stomach, and I have to press my lips together to curb the vomit threatening to escape.
“Up next we have stock number one hundred and seventy-four,” the auctioneer exclaims, still smiling hungrily at me.
I have no idea where these numbers are coming from—there appears to be no rhyme or reason for them—but of course, there’s no one I can ask.
You can survive this, Aliana.
You won’t let this break you.
You can’t let this break you.
“Do you see those plush lips, gentlemen? Imagine them sucking on your tentacles… I have a feeling this will be the best auction of the night.” The slimy monster’s grin widens, a feat that causes his green lips to touch his slightly pointed ears. “Let’s get the bidding started.”