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Sam went on, “The plates in front of you have symbols on them. A crescent moon, an infinity symbol, a star, a diamond, a cross, and a sunburst. Please flip the plates over and reveal your symbol.”
My hands shook as I did. Mine had the star painted on it. To my side, where I usually sat, Drake had the infinity symbol. I wondered at that. How did the man who put me here seem to know how much that symbol meant to me?
“The doll that has the moon plate will play the knife game against the doll holding the star plate. Ten passes, each progressively faster. If the doll with the star plate flinches or cries out, they will be punished. Proceed,” Sam said.
My heart lurched as I looked down at the bright yellow star on my plate. I glanced across the table and saw that Bri was holding the moon.
“What the hell is the knife game?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
Liam put his plate down and said, “It’s a game drunk macho assholes play at bars and shit. You’ve seen it. Put your hand down and the other guy taps a knife between your fingers. First one to flinch buys the beer or whatever.”
Again I looked at the sinister-looking knives beside us all, and a knot formed in my throat. Bri was going to do that to me? What if she slipped? Christ, would she cut my finger off by accident?
Before I could even think about the answers to those questions, Jeffery reached across the table, yanked the plate from Bri’s hands, and shoved his own diamond symbol dish into her lap.
“Now,” Jeffery said, “a little fucking payback.”
Bri’s eyes widened in surprise but quickly turned to a curious smirk as she saw what was happening.
“You can’t do that,” Drake growled.
Jeffery shrugged and lifted the tip of his knife to tap on his cuff. “I didn’t get a shock. No message to stop. Looks like Mister Voice likes a good show after all. Come here.”
Jeffery shot his hand forward to grab my wrist, but Drake slapped his hand aside. “Why do you want her so bad?” Drake asked.
The other man sneered and pointed his knife at me. “She cooked. Do you have any idea what I went through? I busted my fucking head on the floor, woke up in my room, puked my guts out for hours, stomach cramps, diarrhea, splitting headache. I wanted to die, it was so bad and she did that to me. Now it’s my turn.” Jeffery turned his eyes to me and smiled hungrily.
“Fuck that,” Drake said and swapped his plate with mine. I gaped at the infinity symbol that was now in front of me.
Bri laughed. “Good god, are you serious, Drake? This bullshit again? What is it about this bitch you like so much?”
“For real,” Elise said. “That’s some weak shit. You can’t get all gushy about somebody in here. Maybe we just slit your throat, Drake. Weed out the weak. Hell, Sam might even enjoy watching it.”
Drake turned and looked at Elise, his face an impassive mask. “How about you shut up and let us play the game?”
Elise looked a little taken aback. Though no one had come right out and said it, I was getting the idea that Drake was sort of a de facto leader of the group. The fact that he’d been here so long probably gave him higher standing. Elise’s statement had been dripping with sarcasm, but the look on Drake’s face said he’d taken her seriously.
Elise crossed her arms and leaned back, diffusing the tension. “Damn, fine, whatever. You do you.”
“I wanted her,” Jeffery said, glaring at me.
Drake slapped his palm down on the table, fingers splayed. “You’ll have to deal with me.”
The two men locked eyes for a moment, and then Jeffery sighed and shrugged. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.” He lifted his knife. “Don’t flinch, big guy.”
A second later Jeffery began tapping the blade between Drake’s fingers. My own hands were clasped between my legs, the fingers clenched together tightly. I chewed at the inside of my cheek as Jeffery moved faster. I sucked in a gasp when during one tap the blade nicked Drake’s middle finger. He didn’t flinch or even act like he’d been hurt. He kept his eyes locked on Jeffery.
I had to stop reacting. I didn’t want my gasp to make Drake flinch.
By the seventh pass, the knife was moving so fast that it was hard to keep track of it. Drake had two more cuts on his hand. Blood had trickled down onto the table, and the blade was tapping into tiny crimson puddles. Drake looked calm, though. Like he was watching a dull movie. It was impressive. I never would’ve gotten through two or three rounds of the game. I would’ve pulled my hand away in fear. No amount of punishment or terror of what came next could’ve stopped me. My subconscious would’ve taken over and pulled my hand back to safety.
Jeffery finished the last pass in a blur of speed. He looked a little disappointed that he hadn’t cut Drake again in the final round.
“Well,” Jeffery said, “that wasn’t as cathartic as I’d imagined. I guess I should add a round.”
In a flash, Jeffery’s hand lashed out with the knife. So fast, none of us had time to react. Especially not Drake. The thin blade of the knife slammed through the top of Drake’s still outstretched hand. The sliver of metal pierced his flesh, slid through muscle and skin, and then made a thudding sound as the tip buried itself into the wood beneath.
“Oh, fuck,” Liam called out, staring wide eyed at Drake’s hand.
