AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Drake reached forward and took my free hand, squeezing hard. If Sam noticed the action through the shadows, he didn’t shock either of us for it.
Sam chuckled. "Dahlia, there are times when introducing variables makes things more exciting. Sometimes therapy of this sort needs additional motivation."
"Hang on," Bri said. "Why the fuck does Dahlia get it first?"
I wanted to be pissed at her for the insinuation, the idea that Sam gave me preferential treatment, but I couldn’t be angry. Terror at what Sam would do to her for speaking up kept me silent.
Instead of punishing her, Sam responded blithely. "My reasons are my own. And someone had to be first, as someone must also be last."
"That’s bullshit," Bri said, angrier now. "I’ve been here longer than she has. One of us should get it. I deserve it."
"I assure you, Miss Gilmore, you deserve nothing. I will also warn all of you, the penalty for forcibly stealing or taking the card will result in immediate and painful loss of life. And trust me, I am very good at making things painful.
"Now, I’m sure you all are very hungry. You are free to go to breakfast. I have a bit of a game for you there. I’m sure you’ll love it."
The speaker went silent, and the door to the weapons room clicked open. Elise sighed wearily. "Great. I can’t fucking wait."
Without waiting for any of us, she turned and left, heading toward the stairs that would lead to the dining room. Drake put a hand on my lower back and walked out with me, behind everyone else. I tucked the plastic card into my pocket as we went down the stairs.
Elise was already sitting at the table, staring, not at the covered dishes, but at what sat beside them. A thick looking clear plastic bag. It had a dirty, smeared appearance like it had been used for something many times before. Inside the bag was a small white cube. Through the dirty smears I thought it looked like a die for a game board.
Bong. "Please sit. Before you begin your meal, we will play my little game."
I took my usual seat, and Drake rested his hand on my thigh after he’d taken his. Everyone else stared at the bag, just as I was. A mixture of confusion, apprehension, and disgust on their faces.
"Elise, since you were in a hurry to get here, please remove what is in the bag," Sam said.
With a sigh of irritation, Elise reached in and pulled out what I’d correctly guessed to be a die.
"Roll. If you get an even number, you will be safe. The first person to roll an odd number will have an interesting morning."
"Fuck," Elise hissed.
Apparently she didn’t want to drag it out. Less than a second after she spoke she tossed the tiny piece of plastic down. It tumbled, clacking and spinning until it came to rest. Four.
"Thank god," Elise said, looking pale.
"Payton, as our newest doll, you will go next," Sam said.
Payton didn’t speak, but when he leaned forward to take the die, his fingers shook. He almost dropped the thing as he picked it up. He didn’t toss it like Elise had. Instead, he simply lifted it a foot off the table and let go. It fell straight down, bounced twice and came to rest. Two. Payton sat back fast, pressing a hand to his mouth and breathing hard.
"Very good. You all are learning to do as you are told. Dahlia, let’s have you go next."
I chewed a tiny hunk of flesh off the inside of my cheek, a nervous tick I’d had since I was a child. The coppery taste of blood washed over my tongue. Swallowing, I reached forward, picked up the small item, and flicked it. It bounced on the table then pinged off the steel dome on the food, clinked against one of the water glasses before spinning like a top and finally coming to rest. One.
There was a gasp, and it took a second before I realized it was my own. Drake’s hand clamped hard on my thigh. It was me, the lucky-fucking-one.
"Wonderful," Sam cooed. "Payton, you will hold Dahlia’s arms behind her chair. Elise, you will put the plastic bag over her head, cinch it at her neck and pull it tight against her face. You will suffocate her until she is unconscious. Once done, the rest of you are free to enjoy your meal."
My eyes widened as I stared at the plastic bag. The stains inside it were obvious now. Spit, snot, tears, maybe even vomit, from past users who’d been suffocated with it. Not being able to breathe? That, for some reason, was more terrifying than anything else I’d gone through. I’d rather be burned, cut, whipped, or electrocuted. Something primal and animal inside me resisted the idea so vehemently that I began to shake in terror.
An ancient memory surfaced, one that I hadn’t thought about in many years. A man, not Branson, had come to purchase an hour of time with me. I’d been seven years old. He’d pushed me down and had his way with me, trying to destroy my tiny body. It had hurt. I could still remember the nightmare scene. I screamed and called for my parents. Even when they’d shouted from down the hall for me to shut up, I’d still begged and called out, until the man finally shoved my face into the mattress, pressing against the back of my head. The meaty hand crushing my nose against the covers. The sheets pressed into my mouth and nostrils, cutting off my air supply. I couldn’t breathe. I’d been suffocating. Panic had exploded in me like a grenade, and I’d thrashed and bucked to try and get breath. Starbursts of light flashed across my vision, and the panic of suffocation made me forget about the agony of a man raping me. When he’d finally finished, I’d jerked my face up, sucking in great cool lungs full of air. For a few moments I’d been so relieved to have oxygen again that I forgot the degradation I’d experienced. Even as tears and snot ran down my face, I could take solace in the fact that I hadn’t suffocated to death.
The piece of shit had even patted me on the shoulder. "I liked that. You moved like a grown woman at the end there, sweet thing."
The sick fuck had thought my thrashes of terror had been the throes of pleasure. As though a child could experience something like that. The memories of that day washed over me as I stared at the goddamned bag on the table.
Elise, still looking relieved, reached forward and grabbed the bag. "Okay. Let’s get it over quick, okay?" She said, looking at me. Her words conveyed a sense of pity, but her tone said she was just glad it wasn’t her going through the ordeal.
