One
Ara
We shouldn’t be here.
In the list of places two women shouldn’t venture into alone, this place would be at the top, written with red ink, caps and underlined thrice. And yet, Ivy circles a building with determination and emerges out into the road from the alley. And I’m the loon who couldn’t let her die alone because I love her.
Why couldn’t I find a friend who is a coward like me? Why did I have to befriend this annoying woman who loves exploring dangerous places and uncovering crimes to report them? She could’ve taken the job at the university like me, but no. Miss Nancy Drew had to take the job requiring her to explore the field before submitting her news article.
The places she ventured before today did bother me, but they did not terrify me into petrification like now.
Roarfort isn’t the town where the non-locals were allowed to venture. The locals are territorial, and many crime reporters and detectives went missing once they walked in here. Ivy decided that she was not only going to explore the area, but we would also go to the far end of this town with no means of escape. Other than jumping into the raging ocean.
“We shouldn’t be here,” I whisper-yell.
She ignores me like she has been doing for the past hour. But her grip is unrelenting on my wrist, an indication that she isn’t as brave as she pretends to be.
No one would be, this place is the home for criminals who spend more time locked up in a cell than in their homes.
Roarfort is the home for all kinds of criminals. The petty ones don’t scare me much, but the ones on the other side of the scale do. The men of the underworld. The cold-blooded killers. The ones the papers do not write about, but Ivy wants to.
Why? Because she has a death wish, that’s why.
Unlike the others, the road leading towards this derelict place was empty and shrouded with an eerie calmness that generally wafts around haunted houses.
No gang members were flaunting their guns at each other with silent threats, no hookers standing with bare clothing to find someone willing to indulge them with money or no homeless unfortunates desperate for food.
This dock looks abandoned as if everyone except us knew better than to venture to this part of the town.
“The bloody locals seem to avoid this area and we are strutting right into it!” I shake my head at her.
“Ever thought why?” Ivy counters as she looks around.
“I did. And the reason terrifies me even more.”
Except for the time-worn buildings with ill-drawn graffiti, there wasn’t anything here. The shutters of the shops are rusted and shut. Except for the hoots and gunshots going off at a far distance coming from deep inside Roarfort, it is silent.
An eerie silence that raises the hairs on my hands.
My eyes travel and land on a deserted building at the end of a pier. It stands erect despite the holes in its roof, serving as the right prop in this haunted set. With the raging black waters and riptides as its background and the carpet of a rotten, brittle-looking wooden pier, it looks like a building which should be avoided at any cost.
If not for the violation of the health codes, at least for the probability of encountering any paranormal entities. As a science student, I shouldn’t believe the existence of things that aren’t proven to be true. But I’m not foolish enough to believe that we know everything. There still are a lot of things science cannot prove and, right now, my fear knows no logic.
Ivy and I start to walk to our left, to continue our suicidal exploration when we hear it. The unmistakable thud that travelled to us from a distance. I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting what is about to happen.
“This way.”
Ivy changes her track to walk towards the building on the pier.
“It could’ve been one of its hanging pieces on the roof,” I try to reason.
I am willing to stroll on this road all night rather than enter that building.
To heighten my fears, right on cue, a thunder rolls, followed by a flash of lightning behind the building. The brief second of light has me shaking my head at Ivy. It looks beyond haunted, and I have no qualms about dying tonight.
“Ivy, no! The building looks as unsafe as it gets.”
“Ara, stop being a fucking pain in the ass and follow me,” Ivy orders.
Before I can stop her, she starts walking on the pier. I contemplate for a second, but I’m forced to follow her when I hear another sound. I hope it is a piece of wood or concrete falling on the floor. I wouldn’t mind getting squashed rather than experiencing whatever horror might await us in there.
I fall in step with her, and Ivy flashes me a triumphant smile, at which I roll my eyes. She is lucky that I love her to death. I wouldn’t risk my life or sanity for anyone else, except, of course, my sister, Iyra.
“So, what is this wretched article your stupid boss wants you to write?”
I look down, being mindful of where I step. For wood that looks as ancient as it does, it holds up well. Except for the slight squeaks, the surface doesn’t give under our weight, and I’m not light like Ivy.
“Organised crime.”
That slows my steps. Ivy is already looking at me, waiting for a reaction.
“Do you really think you can go on without consequences after writing about criminals who control this country and who prefer to operate in the shadows?”
“Someone needs to let them know that they aren’t invincible.” Ivy looks back at the building we walk towards.
Up this close, it looks like an abandoned warehouse that might have been used for storage. The structure is large and scary.
“They might not be invincible, but they are powerful.”
“Reporting is my job, Ara. I cannot let a bunch of criminals scare me.”
I commend her courage. Under duress, Ivy chooses to fight when I choose flight. Life has shown me how powerless one can get under someone powerful enough to squash you like a bug. I’ve seen the horrors that have opened my eyes to the reality of this world.
I understood why people go mad over power and its acquisition. And even if I don’t wish for her to experience something like that, I do wish that she understands the gravity of her situation.
“It should scare you.”
Ivy looks at me funnily.
“I am not easily scared, babe.” She winks.
I give her a small smile. I hope she sees the pain behind it.
She thinks she is ready to see the depravity this world is capable of. She bubbles with curious energy to know things that we aren’t supposed to know. She will not listen to reason, and she won’t respond to logic. The only thing she will respond to is a healthy dose of fear.
And that is what awaits us if we continue down this path. I can try telling her not to do this, but I know Ivy. She wouldn’t listen. Her curiosity to know things surpasses her self-preservation right now.
Just like mine did when I ventured into that wretched forest despite the many warnings from everyone. This close to her investigation, she wouldn’t leave it.
I shake my head at her as she walks forward, buzzing with energy. I follow her, preparing myself for the worst imaginable future.
Fear slams back into me with full force as soon as we step into the warehouse. The rough winds do not penetrate the concrete walls but shake the wooden boards that hang from the roof. I look around for evidence of any of those pieces on the floor so that I can show them to Ivy and drag her out of this place. Much to my chagrin, there aren’t any lying around.
The weather in Walius is unpredictable. There were dark clouds just a few seconds ago. Now, they pave the way slightly to let the moon shine into this building. The walls under the covered roof are smeared with something dark that I do not wish to investigate.
I scout for the exit points other than the one we entered. I’ve learned that particular lesson quite the hard way—always know your exit before you enter a tricky situation.
Ivy sticks to my side—thank god for that—as we explore the right side of the building.
I spot a window shuttered closed with wooden boards on the far right of the wall. Ivy and I start to walk towards it when we hear it.
The heavy squeaks of something akin to metal, when a strong gust of wind blows in from the holed roof. Ivy is fast to whip her head while I’m dreading what we will find. She is also faster in letting out a blood-curdling scream that must have awoken all the ghosts in here.
Her grip on my wrist turns tight, and I can feel her nails digging into my skin. Ivy continues to scream into my ear, hiding her face behind me. I finally muster enough courage to fully turn to the horror that awaits.
The image draws a shuddery breath out of me, making it almost impossible to swallow the fearful scream that wants out from my throat. The only reason I don’t go berserk like Ivy is because I’ve seen horrors like this before. Much more than this, but it still brings waves of nausea looking at the carnage ahead of us.
Dead bodies hang from the ceiling, all of their necks broken at odd angles. But that isn’t the only thing. All their mouths are sewn shut—quite literally—with their penises embedded into them. Some of them are missing ears, some their limbs, and some their eyes. But all of them—up until the end of the warehouse—are missing their penises. The blood drops from their bodies, forming a massive puddle underneath and leeching into the wooden boards.
Ivy looks back, and this time her screams are interrupted by her sounds of retching. She runs to a corner, with her back to the corpses and me as she heaves the day’s contents out of her.
It has been long since I’ve encountered violence like this. Almost a decade. And even when I did see the horrors before, the one before me doesn’t look like a crime of passion like the ones I’ve seen. These… corpses don’t look like they have been simply abducted from the road without any reason other than to curb their thirst for lunacy.
No.
Whoever killed them did it with precision. Not with care, but with accuracy. To send a message.
The blood is still flowing and the corpses don’t smell. It means it hasn’t been long since they have been hung here. The realisation has horror descend like no other. Dead bodies never harmed anyone, but the ones who put them there, will.
“We need to leave, immediately!”
I don’t turn to look at Ivy puking, afraid that I will follow her suit. I need to keep my bearings at least until we reach home. I can let it all out once in the safety of my walls.
“Not so soon,”
The chilling voice has my shoulders snap together. I’m fast to turn and look for Ivy. Thankfully she is close and she moves to stand beside me, but a tad far as I’m just a few feet away from the first hanging corpse.
Two men stand in front of the door through which we came in, blocking our escape. The older-looking one has thinning hair that is sleeked back with more wax than necessary. A scar slices through his face, sealing his right eye shut. His other eye is sharp and is fixed on the bodies behind us. The man behind him has his focus on us as if he knows that we are thinking of escape.
I pull Ivy close and push her behind me. She doesn’t complain but she does let out a whimper when the second guy smirks.
This one has a bald head and a metal tooth that glints under the moonlight. Both of them appear dangerous. The elder one is angry, it is palpable in the air as he takes a step forward, not looking away from the bodies behind me.
I make a safe assumption that he isn’t the one who had put them there. This man was meant to find these corpses and I’m sure we’re going to burn in between the crossfire of some rival mob nonsense.
“Devlin likes to show off, eh, Nero?”
“Yes, boss.”
The one with the metal tooth—Nero—nods. The boss talks in an off-handed way, but his eye glints with rage. Rage so strong that when he turns his single eye to look at me, I can see murder in them. He doesn’t care if we had nothing to do with this, he is going to kill us either way. But still, I try.
“You must know that we had nothing to do with this.”
Nero cocks his head sideways, trying to see Ivy behind me. But the boss squints his one-functioning eye at me, not liking that I spoke.
“I know no cunt is gutsy enough to pull a stunt like this on me,”
I wait for the "but," patting Ivy as she shakes behind me.
“But you being here means you know the bastard.”
I shake my head.
“No sir. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Why are you here then?” he raises a brow.
“We took a wrong turn and ended up here after hearing some noises. We thought someone might need our help.”
Maybe a police officer would have eaten up this lie. Not them. They don’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth. The boss is convinced that we are someone he mistakes us for.
“Looks like the street rats are into posh women now; with accents and big tits.” Nero leers, his eyes fixated on my boobs.
It is filthy, vulgar, and makes me want to fidget.
That is what he wants so that I can move and he can look at Ivy. I say nothing in return and instead, be mindful of any of their sudden movements.
They block the way to our only exit I know of. I am half sure that beyond these bodies there could be a back door that might or might not directly open into the ocean. To find that out, we need to run into the nightmare of hanging corpses.
I can do it if I close my eyes, but I don’t think Ivy could. There’s blood on the floor, it can slow us down or cause us to slip.
“Let us go, please.” I plead.
Ivy is crying behind me, her form shivering and shaking. I tighten my grip on her, just to assure her that I’m here. We will talk about this once we are alone and come out of this alive.
The boss’s lip curls into a sneer.
“That fucking bastard killed my heir, hung him up like a bounty and cut his dick off!”
“It has nothing to do with us.”
“Fucking lying bitch! Nero, get them.” The boss orders.
“Yes boss,” Nero grins, clapping his hands together.
Ivy lets out a small cry. I close my eyes, hating that the situation has come down to this. I hate that I am once again pushed into a corner. Once again, to survive and protect my loved ones, I need to be someone I hate to be. To either kill or get killed.
“Let us go, please,” I try one last time.
The plea is soft, a reverent wish for him not to do this.
When I open my eyes, I still see Nero walking towards us with a purpose. The boss’s hateful eyes are vying for the violence he wants to be taken out on someone innocent.
“I’m going to enjoy making you scream, blondie.” Nero laughs.
I’m going to love making you scream, doll.
The voice from my nightmare resounds inside my head. Those nightmarish months of agony, the nights spent in terror, and the horrors of their dementedness. All of it comes down with full force, sending my hands into a trigger response.
I bend slightly, shielding Ivy instinctively as my hand moves toward the holster strapped to my ankle beneath my skirt. Nero doesn’t see us as a threat—just helpless women, ripe for his taking. In his mind, he already holds all the power. I can see it in the way his depraved thoughts play across his face, his intentions vile and unspoken but unmistakable. The bulge in his trousers only adds to my revulsion, each moment fuelling my hatred and solidifying my resolve.
My fingers latch onto my gun. The small personalised one has less recoil but is an accurate measure. I don’t need a bigger magazine if I aim accurately.
I get to my knees to conceal the weapon, and Nero laughs, thinking I’m begging him now. Ivy gets down with me, still hiding her face with cries of fear. I spare the boss one look and see that he is busy mourning the loss of his successor behind us.
Emotions are double-edged—a lifeline for one, a noose for another.
I pull the gun out which has Nero stopping in his tracks. The boss is still not looking at us, but I see Nero’s hands travel to his back. I don’t give myself the time to contemplate or hesitate. Hesitating even for a second in situations like this means life or death.
And I choose life.
I aim and pull the trigger. Before he can grab his weapon, Nero falls face down with a bullet wound in his forehead. Having a precise aim has become easy once I learned that firing a gun is all about physics. Once you understand the science behind it, your aim gets better. Your stance gets better and you can withstand the recoil tension after firing.
The dull thud of the body hitting the ground has the boss’s head snap towards Nero who lies dead on the dusty floor. Crimson flows from his wound and travels to mix with the ones of the corpses behind us. I ready myself to fire again, knowing it won’t be long before the boss draws his weapon. The initial shock won’t last—men like him recover too quickly.
My finger curls around the trigger, steady, but then... I feel it—the air shifts, charged with something dark, something dangerous. It makes the hair on my neck rise, warning me that a predator has entered this room.
Being kidnapped and held by monsters left me with trauma that would send most psychologists running for cover. But it did more than that—it sharpened my senses in ways others can’t comprehend. I’m more attuned to my surroundings than most, reading shifts in the air, and movements in the dark. I don’t hear anything, but I feel it.
We’re not alone anymore.
My grip tightens on the gun as I glance toward the man still standing, his teeth clenched in fury as he stares at his fallen comrade. I can only hope whoever just arrived isn’t his backup.
“You. Fucking, bitch!” He growls.
The boss throws down his cigar in a fit as he shouts at me. My concentration snaps back at him and I aim.
I aim for his jugular, bracing myself for the recoil and trying to keep my hands from shivering after the last shot. I’m pretty sure Nero’s useless face will haunt my nightmares from now on—joining the countless others I see when I close my eyes. Innocents and enemies. He wasn’t innocent, not by any stretch, but he’s still another life I’ve taken to keep breathing.
Survival comes at a cost. And I’ve been paying for it a long time.
“Why don’t you leave him to us, sweetheart?”
Sharp and audible, a voice cuts through the room like a blade. It’s enough to send a jolt of fear through the boss, his eyes widening, the cocky facade slipping.
My gaze snaps toward the entryway.
Three figures stand there, their shadows stretching long across the floor, impossible to miss. But my attention locks on the one in the middle—the one who seems to carry both life and death on his shoulders, larger than either. He hasn’t spoken. I know that much. The voice came from his right, but it doesn’t matter.
I can’t look away from him.
Something about him keeps me rooted, torn between fear and something far more dangerous—awe.
The moment my eyes clash with his—dark and restless, like storm clouds brewing over a raging ocean—I know.
Life, as I’ve known it, ends here.