Chapter 33
It’s been a while since C left me. I’ve been sitting here holding the two crystals. There’s not much to do besides pace and count. This room makes me want to slip back to when they left me here.
I have to keep telling myself that they’ll be back. B said I have another test tonight. That’s all these games are. They are tests, training, to make me like them. Plus, they fuck me every night, so they have to come back.
I’m pacing when the hatch opens, and a sandwich is passed through it with a bottle of water. Putting my crystals down on my table, I walk towards the door. “Who made the sandwich?” I ask, but I can’t see who it is on the other side.
“C made it, don’t worry, sweet cheeks, I didn’t touch it.”
I hesitate for a second but then take the food, moving to sit on my bed. “We are getting things ready, and will come get you soon.”
The hatch closes, leaving me alone again. I open the water and take a few sips while I try to figure out what is gonna happen.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the anxiety from taking over.
1 Mississippi.
2 Mississippi.
3 Mississippi.
Alone.
Worthless.
Killers.
They are killers.
Will they kill me?
They want me to kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Fuck.
Numbers.
1 Mississippi.
2 Mississippi.
3 Mississippi.
An hour or two must have passed because I fell asleep after I ate. My body is exhausted from everything that happened today. Gun training, sparing, the meltdown from cutting up a body.
I had scrubbed my hands and crystals clean after Sir C left. Though I can still feel the blood under my nails. Looking down at my hands, I notice only 2 gel nails.
They have grown out, but I’ve held on to them for dear life. It’s all I have left of myself. My old self. Since my isolation, I’ve earned nicer shower products but that was it.
Don’t forget the table and crystals.
They treat you well.
Just like they said
Play the games.
Follow the rules.
Spread your legs.
And everything will be okay.
I have always been a girl who had her nails, hair and makeup done. Now, I haven’t even seen a mirror, but I know I look like trash. My hair is a mess of knots and tangles. I haven’t earned a hairbrush yet. But maybe soon?
If I’m a good pet.
I’m picking at my nails when the door opens. All three of them stand in the doorway. I can hear something faintly coming from the game room, and it has me on the edge of another panic attack. “What’s going on?” I bounce to my feet and back up against the wall.
Sir Al clears his throat. “This is a test, my little whore . There’s someone waiting for you. You have a job to do for us.” He steps closer and holds out a hand.
I know what will happen if I don’t take it. I slide mine into his, and Sir Al tangles our fingers together. He leads me out of the room, passing Sir B and C.
What greets me is someone tied to a chair. A hood pulled over their head. The chair wobbles as they buck and scream, but I can’t make out the words. They must be gagged.
I look at each of them in confusion. “I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do?”
“He has some information that we need. Your job is to get it out of him. You can use anything in this room to help you.” Sir B explains as he waves a hand around.
My eyes track his movement until they land on the wall of weapons, the cage opened. My face pales as I shake my head. “No. No! I can’t do that.” The back talk earns me a slap across the face from Sir Al.
“Listen up, bitch, either you do it, or I do, and when I’m done, you’ll take his place in that chair. So what’s it gonna be? You or him?” I take a step back, but Sir Al still has my hand in a death grip.
My brain races as I think everything over. How he once told me there were people out there who wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.
As much as I hate my life right now, I do not want to die. I know that much, and know if it’s between my life or a stranger ’s, then I choose myself.
I steel my nerves and nod, raising my eyes to look Sir Al in the face. “Okay.” They all nod in approval and move to stand near the wall.
“I’ll give you 30 minutes, do whatever is necessary.” Sir Al states and crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a nod.
I don’t know anything about torturing someone, especially not how to get information from them. Time is ticking, but I take a moment to figure out how I want to do this.
Slowly, I make my way towards the wall, looking over everything before my eyes land on a butterfly knife. It’s open on a rack, the blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights in the game room.
It should work. Maybe just a few cuts and the person will speak. I pick up the knife and feel the weight in my hands.
I hope this is enough.
I make my way over to the person chained in the chair and pull the hood off.
There doesn’t seem to be anything special about him. He looks like a regular man. His blue eyes are wet with tears, and the blonde hair that hangs down is stuck to his forehead from sweat.
There’s a bruise on his cheek, and I’m guessing it was from one of my Sirs when they were grabbing him. I remove his gag, and the man babbles like a baby.
“Look! I don’t know what you want. Just let me go. I didn’t do anything. They’re fucking crazy.” His voice echoes around the cement walls as he screams, yelling at me and casts his eyes towards my men. I clutch the knife and take a deep breath before stabbing it into his leg.
He howls out in pain, blood gushes out around the knife as he pleads to my Sirs. I snap my fingers in front of his face until he looks at me.
“Don’t look at them. I’m the one you’re dealing with. Just tell me what they want to know. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t have a choice.” My voice starts off strong, but near the end it wobbles.
“I don’t fucking know anything, lady. I’m fucking innocent.” He has snot dripping from his nose as he cries out. The pain is making him lose focus. I pull the knife out and stab his other leg, and I can feel my humanity slipping.
It’s you or him.
It’s a kill or be killed world.
No matter what, he refuses to talk. I stab him repeatedly, trying to avoid places that I know hold important things. It’s not like I’m a doctor and know where every artery, organ or vein is.
I’m trying to not kill him. As more and more blood flows out of his wounds, I lose myself. The red river of his life force glistens and shines. It’s almost pretty how one liquid can keep any of us alive.
I cut off his earlobe, a finger, even a chunk of skin from his cheek. Losing count of the cuts, stabs and jabs that I’ve inflicted on him. I don’t know who I am right now. Almost like a switch was flipped, and this is a different person moving my limbs.
His screams ring through my ears. They morph into hers. The screams that follow me in my sleep. The ones that ripped her throat apart as she was ripped from me.
Green.
I wonder what’s happening to her.
Is her life like mine?
Games?
Pain?
Killing.
Is she a killer too?
The man's sobs snap me out of it. He refuses to speak. I’m running out of time. I have to do more, but I’m not sure what will work. An idea pops to the front of my mind, and I open his pants, pulling out his cock and balls.
My hand moves of its own accord, the knife slotting under his sack. “JUST FUCKING TELL ME.” I scream in his face, spit flying from my mouth and landing on his tear stained cheeks.
He pisses himself, warm urine runs down my hand and drips off my wrist. Mixing with the blood that coats my fingers. He is mentally gone. Nothing is going to work.
Am I mentally gone?
Has my mind shattered?
What is wrong with me?
Who am I?
Was I always like this?
Beep.
1 Mississippi.
Breath.
3 Mississippi.
Kill.
5 Mississippi.
Or.
7 Mississippi.
Be killed.
I slice through the hanging appendage. My whole body feels numb as I drag the knife through his testicles, castrating him in the hopes he’ll just speak. Blood saturates both of us, and a pool of it covers the cement under the chair.
My bare feet leave footprints when I try to step away from the puddle. The man is silent as his body slumps forward. I pull back and blink at his limp form.
Did he pass out?
A beeping fills the room and snaps me out of my daze. My eyes flit down to my hands and drop the knife in a panic. They are covered in blood. There is not one inch of clean skin.
I failed.
Oh, fuck.
I’m next.
No.
No.
No.
Can’t go back.
No back.
Can’t be alone.
No alone.
Alone.
Alone.
Alone.
No.
No.
No.
I spin around, my eyes wild as I face my Sirs. “P-p-please, I fucking t-t-tried. He just passed out. Give me more time. When he wakes up, I’ll try again! I just need more time. Time. Time. Time.”
I’m hysterical as my voice stutters. I twine my fingers in my hair and pull. My chest burns as the feeling of ropes coiling around my lungs. I walk towards them. Begging them not to put me in the chair.
Sir C steps away from the wall first and stalks towards me. He spreads his arms and I run to him. I plaster myself to his chest, grabbing his shirt in my fists and hiding my face.
Sir Al and B walk past us and to the sleeping man in the chair. Sir B picks up the knife while Al jams a finger to the man’s neck.
“You passed. Good job, Red.” His words send a chill through my body.
I’m confused as he walks to us and cards his fingers through my tangled mop of hair. I look up and wipe my eyes, smearing blood on my face.
“Passed? H-h-how? I d-d-didn’t get anything from him. Failed. Failed. Failed. M-m-more time.” I’m lost in my spiralling emotions, and I don’t notice Sir B joining our group. The knife is nowhere to be seen, and when I look at the wall, the cage is locked.
“He didn’t have anything to say. He was innocent. Just a random man that Al had me grab off the street for this exercise. You passed because you killed him. That was the whole point of this game.” Sir B explains, his hand rubbing my back in small circles.
“Fucking beautiful, by the way. I’m glad you treat my balls with more care. Goddamn, that hurt to watch.” My face drops as I try to process what they are telling me.
I just killed a man.
Me?
And that’s what they wanted.
Murderer.
Killer.
Sinner.
I don’t know if I can accept that answer and stand there in silence for a while. My body is in a state of shock. No one moves. Sir C holds me to his body while Sir B rubs my back.
I don’t know how much time passes before Sir Al speaks, “C go get her cleaned up. We’ll handle him. Then we can give Red her present. She earned it after all.”
Sir C gives a nod, picks me up and walks us to my room. I’m glad he didn’t expect me to walk because I don’t think I can hold my weight up right now. My mind is screaming the same words over and over.
Murderer.
Murderer.
Murderer.