Chapter 8 #2
Sarah screams. The noise rips out of her, raw and high, as pain tears through her hand. She convulses forward, clutching her finger to her chest as it twists at the wrong angle, already swelling, already turning dark.
“Oh my God,” she sobs, rocking violently. “Oh God—”
Sophie lets go and steps back.
Elliot watches with quiet satisfaction as Sarah curls in on herself, whimpering.
“See?” Elliot says mildly. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Elliot’s smile widens as he turns to the couple.
“Emma, would you rather have a plastic bag held over your head for one minute… or allow Jared to take a cattle-prod shock?”
Emma freezes.
Jared shakes his head immediately, panic breaking through his voice. “Emma, no. No. Just choose me.”
Miles leans forward. “A minute… Emma, you can—”
Elliot cuts him off without looking at him. “Miles. Silence.”
Emma looks at Jared, fear and love colliding in her expression. Her throat moves as she swallows.
“I’ll take the minute.”
Jared lets out a broken sound. “Emma, please don’t.”
Asher is already moving. He grabs her arm and hauls her to the center of the room. Sophie follows, pulling a thick, clear plastic bag from a drawer and shaking it open. The material crackles loudly in the quiet space.
Emma’s breathing turns rapid and shallow. “Wait. Please. Wait—”
Asher doesn’t respond. He forces her down onto her knees and yanks her head back by her hair. Sophie steps in front of her and pulls the plastic bag down over Emma’s head in one swift motion. The thin material clings instantly to her face, sticking to her lips and nose as she inhales.
Emma screams. The sound comes out muffled and distorted through the plastic.
Asher twists the open end tight at her neck and holds it there, sealing it with his fist. Sophie grips Emma’s shoulders and forces her upright so she can’t collapse.
The bag sucks inward with every desperate breath, flattening against her mouth and nostrils as she tries to pull in air that isn’t there.
Elliot checks his watch. “One minute. Begin.”
Emma thrashes immediately. Her hands fly to her face, fingers clawing at the plastic as she tries to tear it open.
The bag stretches and snaps back, crinkling loudly.
Her chest heaves violently, ribs expanding against nothing.
The oxygen inside the bag thins within seconds.
Her movements grow frantic, uncoordinated.
She makes choking sounds that don’t fully escape.
My heart pounds so hard it drowns out everything else. Jared stumbles forward, hands shaking. “Stop. Stop. Let me do it. Let me.”
Elliot blocks him with a single arm. “Move again, and I’ll shock you anyway.”
Emma’s body convulses as carbon dioxide builds inside the bag.
The plastic fogs with her breath, then clears, then fogs again as she fights for air.
Her legs kick out wildly, heels scraping against the floor.
Her fingernails tear at the material until one splits and begins to bleed.
She gags inside the bag, her breath growing louder and more ragged.
Sophie holds her steady while Asher keeps the seal tight at her throat. At fifty seconds, Emma’s movements slow. Her hands drop from her face and twitch weakly at her sides.
Elliot lifts his hand. “Time.”
Asher rips the bag off in one quick motion.
Emma collapses forward, dragging in a violent, broken breath that turns immediately into coughing.
She sucks in air and chokes on it at the same time, her body shaking uncontrollably as oxygen rushes back in.
Her eyes are bloodshot, tiny vessels burst around the whites. Saliva and tears soak her face.
Jared breaks free from Elliot and drops to his knees beside her. “Emma. Emma, look at me.”
He pulls her into his arms, brushing damp hair from her face with trembling fingers. “I’m right here. I’m right here.”
Emma can’t answer. She coughs and gasps against his chest, her body shuddering as she tries to regain control of her breathing.
Elliot watches with calm satisfaction, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. “Very good, Emma.”
Emma is still shaking when Elliot shifts his attention to Jared.
“Well, since the two of you are so devoted… it’s only fair Jared gets a turn.”
Jared’s shoulders stiffen. He looks up slowly, eyes wide with dread.
“Fuck, please,” he whispers. “Please don’t—”
Elliot smiles gently, like this isn’t torture but a fond conversation.
“Jared, would you rather…”
Silence tightens around the room.
“…have Emma take the bag again for another full minute…”
Emma makes a tiny terrified sound, part inhale, part sob.
“…or would you prefer to take the cattle-prod shock yourself?”
Jared freezes.
Emma reaches blindly for him, fingers trembling. “Jared—no—no. Please. I can’t—I can’t breathe—I can’t—”
Her voice breaks again into a violent cough. Jared’s face crumples.
He cups her cheek. “I won’t let them do that again. I won’t.”
Elliot tilts his head. “Your choice must be spoken, Jared.”
Jared doesn’t look at Elliot. He only looks at Emma. And whispers, voice shattering, “…shock me.”
Emma sobs and grabs at his shirt. “No—Jared—no—no—”
But Knox already steps forward. He presses the cattle prod into Jared’s ribcage and fires.
The sound is a brutal crack. Jared’s entire body seizes, back arching violently, muscles spasming under the current.
A strangled cry tears out of him, before he collapses sideways on the floor, trembling uncontrollably.
Emma reaches for him, crawling with shaking limbs.
“Jared—Jared—baby—” She holds his head, sobbing into his forehead. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—please, please breathe—”
Jared gasps weakly, chest spasming, eyes glassy, fingers twitching.
Elliot watches them like a delighted spectator.
“Beautiful loyalty, you two will give us excellent entertainment.”
The rest of the room falls silent. A silence full of dread. A silence full of the understanding that every choice they give us is designed to break us far deeper than bone.
Jared collapses into Emma’s arms, still twitching from the shock. Emma holds him tightly, pressing her forehead to his, whispering apologies through broken breath. Watching them hurt. Watching how far they will go for each other.
It hits something raw inside me.
Because for all the terror in this room, for all the screaming and shaking and begging, Emma and Jared still choose each other. Again and again. Even when the choices are designed to tear them apart. Their loyalty isn’t just love. It is survival glued together with desperation and hope.
And I can’t stop the thought that Seth would’ve never let them put me here. Seth would’ve burned this entire house down before letting someone put a bag over my face until I couldn’t breathe. Seth wouldn’t kneel helplessly beside me.
He wouldn’t sob while someone else suffered for his sake. He would’ve killed everyone in this circle and every guard outside before they laid a hand on me. And I would’ve done the same for him.
A cold pit settles in my stomach. Because unlike Emma and Jared…Seth isn’t here. Seth is dead.
And I am alone.
Elliot turns next, hands clasped in a mockery of courtesy.
“Miles.”
Miles lifts his head slowly, as if every ounce of strength he has left is draining through his fingertips.
“Please…” he whispers. “Please don’t.”
Elliot crouches down in front of him, voice gentle.
“Would you rather, have three of your fingernails removed…”
Miles’s face twists.
“…or shall we remove three of Brooke’s?”
My heart lurches.
Miles’s haunted eyes meet mine—full of horror, guilt, apology.
I shake my head quickly. Don’t choose me. Please don’t choose me.
He blinks slowly, pain filling the spaces between his breaths.
Then he whispers:
“Me.”
Sophie steps forward with the pliers. Not the tooth-extraction kind, but the flat, heavy ones meant for gripping and tearing. Miles grips the chair arms so tightly his knuckles strain. Sophie grabs his left hand, pins it against the wood, and slides the pliers beneath his first nail.
Miles shuts his eyes.
She rips it up and off in one brutal pull.
Miles chokes, not quite a scream, not quite a cry, the sound of someone whose pain has nowhere to go. Blood wells immediately.
She takes the next finger. Tears the nail away.
Miles jerks hard, a strangled gasp ripping out of him.
Emma turns away, hand over her mouth. Sarah stares at the floor, blinking rapidly. Jared groans weakly from Emma’s lap.
Sophie removes the third nail slower, peeling it back with steady pressure before ripping it free.
Miles slumps forward, trembling violently, forehead resting against his knee. A drop of blood hits the floor.
Elliot straightens, dusting off his hands lightly.
“Wonderful, everyone is making such thoughtful choices today.”
Then his eyes shift to me. Predatory, pleased, curious.
My pulse thunders in my chest.
“Brooke,” Elliot says warmly.
The final round. The worst one.
“Your turn.”