1. - – Corvina Whitmore
CHAPTER ONE
-
CORVINA WHITMORE
Swaying my body to the music with sweat beading on my body, my black dress sticking to me. Grabbing my hair as my hips move through the song.
Drugs, alcohol, and sex are all I want to survive this pain; the death of my boyfriend still runs through my mind.
“It’s terminal, Pierce is not going to make it past Christmas. I'm sorry, Miss Whitmore.”
Remembering those words, reminding myself of the pain of losing him.
Pierce was my first boyfriend, my first for everything.
He's now gone, and I miss him. I never thought that love hurt; you see it played out in movies and on television.
It's totally different compared to real life.
I wanted to die with the man I love. It breaks me that I'm still fucking here and he's not.
To cope, I go to the nightclubs to forget, snorting whatever I can and drinking everyone under the bar, fucking whoever I please. I'm 23 and single, surviving and thriving this crash out.
There's a guy watching me, watching how I move my body and play with my blonde hair, my hazy brown eyes like the look of the tattooed, nose-pierced hottie. I've seen him in the clubbing scene before. Black shirt and skinny jeans that hug his legs in all the right places.
He walks over, the strobe lighting him up in the right places. Fuck, he's gorgeous. My heart beats faster than the music itself. He's here, in front of me.
“Are you just here to watch me, or are you finally going to fuck me? I've seen you everywhere. Want to taste and see if I taste as good as I look? Or are you a man that wants to be fucked with my pink stiletto heel?” I smirk playfully, biting my lip. I grab his shirt to pull him closer. “It’s okay, I can be a gentle sweetheart. Vanilla has just become my new favourite ice cream flavor.”
He doesn’t say a word, not even a smile, just picks me up like a caveman. It's always the quiet ones that are the most kinky. If I don't wake up tomorrow sore as shit, in a red room with pleasure marks on me and still tied up, ima be pissed. Ugh.
Mister Caveman took me into the male's bathroom, how forbiddenly sanitary. Graffiti all over the walls, I'm sure some guy called Richard spunked the ceiling to mark his territory. The smell of piss is rather disturbing. Do men not know how to aim or flush?
Thank fuck he put me down, the 6-foot man is made of muscle. So lifting me was no issue for him. He stands there watching me. It's tense, I kinda like it.
“Do you like the thought of dying, Corvina?” The first words this human has spoken since he was first stalking me here in Neon. Do I want to fucking die? What in the kinky grim reaper?
“Is this your version of role-play? Most men like the nurse outfits and doggin’ in alleyways.” I wrap my arms around myself, making my 5-foot-6 self taller. I raise my eyebrow in amusement.
“I'm here to take you to the Lost Soul Island. God knows about you and wants to give you an opportunity, a choice to live or die.” This man is being serious; he's been watching me. My every move, praying on me like an animal waiting to be eaten.
Who the fuck is this God? Why does he know about me?
I look at Mister Caveman with such confusion, as if he's snorted sherbert before talking to me, but this man is sober.
“Okay, so if I go to this imaginary island, what am I being made to do? Die so some fuck gets my corpse for happy fun time, or sell my organs to the black market? Which is a shame, I kinda like my organs inside me.”
Mister Caveman looks at me like I'm a dumb bitch. Right, okay, this is brilliant.
“No, you will follow orders from the God and play a role in the cult and rituals.
He believes you are God's chosen to sacrifice at the full moon. For the beginning of new souls to be captured and to be set free back to their loved ones. He wants someone who is willing to sacrifice that.” He looked me dead in the eyes when he said that.
I guess this is better than finding a sugar daddy for my book-buying kink.
I feel my body sober a little, the thought of me dying.
I wonder if I get to pick how I die. If I get into the news about how I died, and it was boring like having my neck sliced or missing a toe, ima haunt the bastard who did a shit job killing me.
Be creative, feed me to a crackhead ferret called George who's been on the binge since birth.
Sometimes my friends worry about me with my intrusive thoughts; I call it character building or humouring myself.
“If I say yes, I'm going to die. If I say no, I'm going to die anyway.” He nods to confirm.
“Well, where is this fucking island? Talk to the God, suck his dick if he's good looking, then I'll be on my way and hope I don’t die mid-blowie.” I've never sounded this confident, but I could be hallucinating this shit, and I’m going to wake up and be in bed with the dreaded headache and ache in my chest, but a free death wish holiday would be fun to tell the girls.
Mister Caveman doesn't answer. Fabulous. Yes, okay.
“Are we walking there, or are we getting a magic rug like Aladdin? So you can show me the world? And maybe I can play with your stolen baguette on the way.”
Mister Caveman grabs a syringe before I can run, then the pain of the needle shoots into my neck, and then everything goes black.
“Good night, druggy, we have a long journey ahead of us.”
My blonde hair is stuck to my face, and my body aches. Maybe Mister Caveman wasn't real, and I've been dreaming this whole time. As I open my eyes more, I'm in a cabin. A wooden cabin with a fireplace that's not lit. The smell of the summer cooling breeze through my window.
I'm not chained to the bed, but panic fills me. Where the fuck am I? Have I taken too many drugs? I've forgotten where I am. Fuck sake, not again, ugh. I'll call my sister Emily. She can pick me up, and we can call it gravy. Although I don't think that's the case around here.
I slowly sit up more and see there are bunk beds, the room is like a summer camp, but for adults. Is this fucking rehab? Did my mum pay Mister Caveman? No one is in here that I'm aware of, or are there bodies that I just don't know about?
There are people outside, I can hear them. As I get up, I realise my clothes have been changed. I'm wearing a pink flowy dress that covers up to my ankles. The dreaded thought that I was exposed without my consent makes my skin crawl.
Getting up from the bed, I walk lightly on my feet in case I wake anyone. I open the door, and what I see shocks me. This place is beautiful. In a forest with more log cabins, the woods look aesthetically pleasing. I have this feeling that there are dark secrets before there are beautiful truths.
I walk onto the porch to look around more. It's quiet. Too fucking quiet, I hope Edward Cullen doesn't come out and mug me, that's the last thing I fucking want. I walk down the stairs of the porch. I have questions. But I have to run.
I don't need to die by doing something stupid; if stupid means I survive, then so be it.
I look to see the cabin next door and see a female sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette like it's a normal day out in the middle of fucking nowhere.
She smiles and winks at me, being friendly, or is that her way of saying I'm going to die?
“Sweetheart, are you okay? First day here?” She shouts over. She looks like she's in her late 40s. Her brown hair in a messy bun, the aesthetic of a woman who loves her cheetah print dress. “My name is Diana, what's yours? Pinky Pie from My Little Pony?” She smiles, still friendly though.
I nod and put on a fake smile, which is normally my go-to expression anyway.
“I'm Corvina. This is my first day here. Where are we? Why are we in an abandoned forest?” I try not to question too much and overwhelm myself or show any form of fear.
Diana puffs on her cigarette and blows out the smoke before she answers.
“We are in Lost Soul Camp, where souls are remembered and celebrated if they wish to be.
We sacrifice a human that is worthy of death.
If you are not chosen to be sacrifice then to serve the God, you'll have jobs on the island to earn your keep.
Think of this as a fresh start, a new beginning.
You are one of us now, Corvina. Just whatever you do, don't escape or piss off any of the leaders in power.
Especially the daughter of the god. She's a lethal weapon, some say she is the one who kills the innocent ones here, so whatever you do, don't piss her off.” Diana's smile drops at that last part, don't piss her off.
What did people do for her to get that fucked off to murder?
Nodding along to everything she said, I don't piss anyone off, find a job, and try not to go bat shit crazy without my emotional support drugs, alcohol, and a boy toy. I should be okay, also can't leave the island or Mister Caveman might drag me back. Ugh, this is bullshit.
Diana calls my name out, and it snaps me out of my daydream.
“Hey kid, did you wanna take a tour around this place or do you wanna stand there like a blow-up Barbie?”
A blow-up Barbie? What the fuck?
“Yeah, sure, I need food and water.” Walking towards Diana, “Lead the way, I'm sure anything is better than waiting for death to happen.” I puff out a sarcastic laugh.
“Sweet child, once you have the first taste of death, there is no going back. This place will change you either for the better or the worse.”
We walk into the forest, and goosebumps form on my body.
I can do this, do this for Pierce. He's always watching me. Protect me, Pierce, don't make me do this.