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Bri dropped the things she’d been working on onto the table and laughed, then leaned against it and crossed her arms, her cold blue eyes meeting mine. “If Sam came over the speakers right now and told me to slit your throat, I’d do it in a second.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “I do what it says, because if I don’t, I get fucked. I’m not here to get fucked. I’m here to stay alive and do what I’m told. Do you understand that?”
As I looked into her eyes, I understood something I hadn’t before. Elise was violent and angry. That made her dangerous, but I’d been wrong. Bri was nicer on the surface, more genial, and open. I’d thought she was the nicer one. Now I saw the truth. Bri was crazy. Whether she’d always been that way or the stresses of living in this house had driven her there, I didn’t know, but it was there now. It sent a chill down my spine. I’d need to watch her from here on.
Instead of shocking me again for taking so long, Bri’s cuff buzzed. She frowned and pulled her eyes away from me to look at her own. The smile that had been on her lips faded, replaced with a look of confusion. She glanced at me and without another word turned and left the kitchen. The door unlocked and clicked open as she got to it then swung shut behind her.
I was left alone. The cuff on my wrist buzzed again: Finish cooking. Remember your task. If you refuse, your punishment will be severe.
I breathed heavily as I finished the sandwiches and drained the potatoes. My brain wanted to spin out of control, short circuit from the panic that rushed through me. With five minutes left to work, I finished mixing the potato salad ingredients. I was on the verge of hyperventilating when I got another more insistent buzz: Now or never, Dahlia. Your punishment is coming if you refuse.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
My housemates weren’t my friends. Not really, but how could I poison something that might kill one of them? This wasn’t like with that piece of shit Branson. He’d deserved what I’d done. These people were victims like me, even if they were assholes. Or crazy.
Another shock came, the most painful yet. I yelped and my knees almost gave out. I clutched my still-burning wrist to my chest and tore open the cabinet. A small glass vial sat right where the instructions had said it would be. I unscrewed it and found the lid attached to a glass dropper. I lifted the top piece of bread from one of the sandwiches and dripped three drops of the amber-colored liquid onto the lettuce and put the bread back.
Bong. “Well done, Dahlia. You may return to your room and rest until time for lunch,” Sam said. It came so unexpectedly that I jumped when the words started.
I put the domes over the food. One dome had a partially tarnished handle. I put that one on the poisoned food. I didn’t want to end up eating that shit. At least I’d know what plate not to eat from. Finally finished, I wiped my hands and walked to the door. It clicked open a moment later. As I walked through the door, I gave the shiny steel domes a single glance before walking to the end of the dining room. I got to my room but couldn’t relax. My hands shook, even when I held them together to try to stop it. There was nothing I could do now other than wait.
Once we were all called to lunch thirty minutes later, I’d managed to get my emotions under control, at least on the outside. Inside I was still freaking out. Everyone lined up in the dining room, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the domed tray of sandwiches. All of them looked the same. Whoever had brought the food out may have moved them around. There was no way for me to know which one was poisoned. I was as likely to be a victim as anyone else.
Bri stood on the other side of the table and glared at me, her expression a mixture of fear and anger. Her lips twitched as though she was whispering to herself.
Before we sat, Bri leveled a finger at me. “Dahlia was left alone with the food, and she had an order. I don’t know what it was, but it was bad enough for her to try and refuse.”
Every head turned and all gazes locked on me. I wanted to wither under their gaze, but I did my best to stand. The last thing I wanted was to show more weakness to these people. Any one of them might be ordered to attack or torture me at some point for all I knew.
Bong. “Good afternoon. Please sit and enjoy your meal. As Miss Gilmore has already said, one of the dishes is very special. You are all to eat. If any of you choose to skip the meal or not eat what I believe to be a healthy portion, a punishment will be delivered. To all of you. Please trust me. It will be very unpleasant. There will be blood, screams, and perhaps even death. So, please, eat your fill. Choose wisely.”
We sat, and everyone looked like they’d been ordered to play Russian roulette. Fuck, we basically had. Several trembling hands reached out to start taking food. I grabbed a half sandwich and took a scoop of the salad. Everyone stared at me, watching to see what I ate and what I didn’t. I had poisoned one of the sandwiches, but there was a chance someone else may have come into the Kitchen later and done the same to the salad. There was nothing for it but to eat. As terrified as I was, I didn’t see another way out. Maybe the poison would work fast.
I took a hearty bite from my sandwich. The food should’ve been delicious. Instead, it was the worst thing I’d ever tasted. The salty bacon made me want to gag, and the mushy tomato and crisp lettuce mixed into a vile combination in my mouth. All I could think of was that this food was going to kill me. I quickly washed the bite down with a glass of water.
Seeing me eat my sandwich, they all must have assumed it was safe. The rest of them ate their own, the whole group foregoing the potato salad for now. The atmosphere was thick with fear and anxiety. None of them looked like they were enjoying themselves as they ate. It was more mechanical. They were doing what they had to do and nothing more.
Drake lifted his sandwich to his mouth, and I spotted an angry red wound on his arm. I twisted my head a bit to get a better look. He’d been branded. A single long strip had seared his flesh, burning away hair and skin until all that was left was an awful burn that looked like it must have been agonizing.
I must have made a gasping noise because he turned and looked at me. His gaze followed mine until he saw what I was looking at.
“What—”
My question was cut off by the look in his eyes. He gave a faint shake of his head. It told me all I needed to know. Whatever had happened to him was something that wasn’t to be talked about. Drake looked as worried as everyone else did, but at least he wasn’t looking at me like I’d done it on purpose.
The sound of shattering glass came from the other side of the table. Heads and eyes turned to see what was happening. Jeffery had dropped his water glass. I stared in horror as his eyes bugged out and he shook his head, blinked rapidly, and knocked his plate off the table as he tipped backward. His chair flew out from under him as he landed on the floor. Jeffery didn’t move again. He lay there, eyes closed, unconscious or dead. I couldn’t tell which.
I turned in my chair, wanting to go help him, but Drake’s hand clamped on my thigh like an iron band. The warning was clear in his eyes.
With his other hand, he took a bite of his sandwich. All around me, everyone continued to eat. They’d paused for a few seconds while Jeffery went down, but now they were back to eating as though nothing had happened. The fear on Drake’s face told me all I needed to know. That and the burn he’d received. It stood out on his arm like a caution sign.
My housemates ate much more easily after seeing that Jeffery had gotten the poisoned sandwich. I truly tried to eat more, but whatever appetite I’d had, which had been none, was gone. Was Jeffery dead? If so, I’d killed him. His body lay limp and motionless on the floor. It was all I could do not to let the tears fall.
Even with my stomach turning, I still mechanically put food in my mouth, thinking about what Sam had said about us not eating enough. Even though it was obvious who’d gotten the intended plate, there was no way I wanted to get punished. God only knew what would happen to me if I disobeyed.
After what felt like an eternity, the chime went off again, and we filed out. Jeffery lay forgotten on the floor behind us. Unable to quell my guilt, I shot a look over my shoulder at the poor man and received a small buzz on my wrist for it.
My gaze remained on the floor in front of me the rest of the way back to my room.
I stayed locked in my room until the afternoon activities began, terrified of where I’d be sent next. What would he make me do after lunch? I’d already killed Jeffery, or if he wasn’t dead, he was badly injured or sick. Either way, I didn’t want to think about it. I sat on my bed and stared at the clock. Waiting.
