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Diamond, Club, Spade, and Heart circle a man who is on his hands and knees on the floor. He’s panting in pain, his hand clutching his stomach. He looks normal enough, perfectly middle-aged and respectable, except . . . this basement is clearly sealed off from the outside. The concrete walls are smooth and thick, and there aren’t any windows to let in light. It’s sparse down here, only a thin twin mattress shoved against the wall covered with dirty blankets breaking up the gray. Photographs hang on the opposite wall, each of them depicting a different person, a different woman, in horrible positions and settings.
That’s when I see her.
A woman no older than twenty is huddled in the corner, her eyes bloodshot and her face dirty. She’s too skinny, the kind of thin that comes from neglect and starvation. There’s a manacle around her ankle that’s attached to the wall, making sure she can’t go anywhere. Her skin is rubbed raw where the metal touches her, as if she’s tried and failed many times to free herself. She watches the guys circle the man on the floor but doesn’t move, too tired to do anything but watch.
There is nothing in her eyes. Only emptiness, like she has given up, but as I look closer, I see a single spark within. No, not given up, not yet, but she’s close to it just like I had been.
No one seems to have noticed my arrival despite me knowing I must have made noise.
“How many victims are on that wall?” Diamond asks the man on the floor. “How many have you hurt?”
The man laughs despite being at the mercy of these men. He lifts up on his knees and looks Diamond right in the mask. “Forty-three,” he says proudly. “Forty-four if you count the one over there.”
Diamond nods to Heart. “You heard him. Forty-four cuts. One for each victim.”
I’m helpless to look away, my eyes riveted to Heart as he steps forward and begins to slice with a small scalpel rather than the large hunting knife he carried during my call. How many knives does he have on him? How many tools does he use?
“One, two, three, four, you should have locked your back door.” Heart giggles as he counts. “Five, six, seven, eight, suffer a cut for every hate.”
The man grunts but doesn’t cry out, gritting his teeth against the small cuts on his back, shoulders, arms, and stomach.
“Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, your blood is coating the concrete floor,” Heart finishes and steps back with a grin.
The man scowls at them, bleeding from all his cuts, but his eyes are still clear and brutal. He’s hard in his pants, as if this is exactly what he wants.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he says, his eyes on Diamond.
I can’t see Diamond smile behind his mask, but I feel the aura in the room darken. Club straightens and looks toward the woman chained to the wall, making sure she’s okay. She still watches, no protests or screams for help coming from her. The only change I see is a small smile curling the corners of her lips as she sits with her chin on her knees like she’s watching a movie.
Spade flips out a knife. “I say we take away his weapon.”
Diamond glances at Spade and nods. “I agree.”
The man’s confidence disappears as Heart steps forward again and begins to unbuckle his pants. When he tries to fight him off, Club comes forward to help, keeping his arms folded behind his back as Heart tugs his pants down around his knees, leaving his wrinkled cock standing tall before us. Spade wastes no time as the man begins to scream, really fighting now. Without boasting or teasing, Spade brings his knife down across that dick, cutting it off.
The gore causes me to put my hand to my mouth. Something in me is repulsed by the scene. It’s disgusting and horrible, but I can’t look away. Another part of me, some deeper, darker part I have yet to examine, revels in the sight of the man screaming in pain, of his cock being tossed in the corner like dirty laundry. Spade wipes his hands on the man’s pristine shirt, leaving behind a red stain.
Club releases the man, who collapses to the ground, sobbing.
Diamond turns toward the woman in the corner. “Would you like him to die or live?”
I notice for the first time she has the joker card beneath her hip. It’s clean, unlike mine, but the red foil is unmistakable. How she managed to keep it on her, I don’t know, but her fingers touch the joker’s face, her bright blue eyes focused on Diamond.
“Die,” she croaks, her voice rough. The bruises around her neck tell me she’s been choked repeatedly. Her vocal cords may be damaged, but she says the word loud enough for them to hear.
Diamond nods. “Good choice. Serial rapists don’t deserve second chances, even when they are dickless.”
My eyes widen as Diamond steps forward and draws a sword I never noticed he had. It comes from a sheath at his back, beneath his clothing, and the sound it makes as it slides free is loud in the concrete room.
“May you suffer the same nightmares you caused,” Club growls just as Diamond swings the blade, slicing clean through his neck.
I gasp and fall backward against the wall as his head hits the ground with a thump and blood squirts from the arteries. His eyes are open, wide in shock, and his mouth is opening and closing slightly from lingering nerve movement.
At my sound, everyone looks over at me, finally noticing that I’ve been standing here, but I can’t stop looking at the moving mouth—at the horror and grotesqueness of it.
I have to get out of here. I can’t stomach this.
Turning with the intention to climb the stairs, I feel a hand close around my good ankle, and I look over my shoulder and down to find Heart’s mask looking up at me.
