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I nodded in response and then exited the room, Liam right behind me. We walked in silence. If he was like me, Liam wasn’t in any mood to discuss what was coming. My hands were shaking, the fingertips tingling. Was he going to make Liam kill me? Would that be my punishment for helping orchestrate the escape? It was more than possible, it was probable. Sam was nothing if not an authoritarian. He’d want to make an example out of someone. I was the top choice, apparently.
When we got to the viewing room, the torture room door was shut, the viewing window black. Ominous, to say the least.
"What do we do?" Liam asked. He sounded terrified, his voice barely a whisper.
Bong. "What you do, Mr. Krondal, is exactly what I say."
Unconsciously, I reached out and grabbed Liam’s hand. We weren’t close, but I needed human contact at that moment.
Sam continued. "I am still contemplating how to instill obedience in my dolls. Until I discover the best way, a small example should be made. Behold."
The viewing window lit up and the torture room door unlocked. At first I wasn’t sure what we were looking at. Then, like a nightmare coming true, it became clear. A woman lay on a steel table, naked, arms and legs tied down, spread eagle. Beside her, on an IV rack was a bright red bag of blood with a tube running to her arm. In this place that wasn’t much of a surprise. I’d witnessed or taken part in a dozen different activities in this room. It was the woman’s head that made me begin to hyperventilate. My eyes widened in shocked surprise.
Over her head was a thin black hood, spandex or elastic that fit perfectly around her skull, but still thin enough it allowed her to breathe. Attached to the front of her face was a thin plastic or wooden board, and taped on that board was my face. A picture that I’d posted to social media months ago. Smiling and as close to happy as I ever got in life.
"Oh shit," Liam muttered. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah," I answered and swallowed. My throat rasped like it was coated in sand, dry and scratchy.
"Mr. Krondal, Ms. Belrose. Witness a new soul to be punished for wrongdoing."
I blinked at the weird tableau. It was horrifying, yes, but also a bit haphazard. This appeared less structured and thoughtful than what Sam usually did. Was that because we’d thrown a wrench in his plans? More than likely. It was strange, but the image of my face plastered on another woman’s body was almost too much. It was surreal.
"This woman," Sam said, "has damaged many lives. She has disobeyed those who wished nothing but the best for her. She must be punished accordingly."
As terrified as I was, I didn’t like the insinuation. A month ago, I’d have been too cowed to speak up, but I wasn’t about to go through with whatever this was without knowing why.
"Is this supposed to be my punishment?" I asked. "Is this an innocent woman who’s going to be a stand in for me?"
"Shhhh," Liam hissed, looking horrified that I’d said anything—much less that.
There was a long pause, and when Sam spoke again, there was a hint of humor in his tone. "Oh, Miss Belrose, are you referencing the mask? This is nothing more than a warning. A very brutal one. To answer your question, she is not innocent.
"Before you is Rhonda Warren. She was at one time a medical assistant. To fund the drug habit she tragically fell into, she began taking photos of child patients without their clothes on, and selling them on the darknet. This lucrative job was not enough for her. Three years ago, in a drug fueled and desperate haze, she stole a car in a grocery store parking lot. The owner of the car had barely finished buckling in their four year old son. Miss Warren then took the boy to one of the more dangerous parts of town and sold the child to a group of unsavory men in exchange for five thousand dollars in drugs. The boy was never recovered."
It was like I’d been slapped in the face. Even with my image plastered on her, I hated the woman. I despised her and wanted to do vile and awful things to her.
"Security footage at the store led the police to her. She was sentenced to twenty years, but was released on parole for good behavior three weeks ago. Please, step into the room. It is time she faces her punishment."
Liam and I entered. Up close the Dahlia mask on the woman’s face looked even more realistic. She sat up as far as her bonds would allow, and for a moment it was like I truly was on the table staring at us, begging for help. She must have been gagged beneath the hood because instead of asking for help, she only grunted in a muffled sort of way that made her seem psychotic.
"Miss Belrose, you are to watch. Nothing more," Sam said.
"What?" I glanced around the room.
"You heard me." There was a hardness to his voice that kept me from saying more. He truly had changed. Still calm and collected, but more on edge, more easily angered. It scared me what that meant for us.
"Liam, you will see beside the woman a table with implements."
I looked at the tools he spoke of. Three knives with long and thin blades. Very thin, and they looked incredibly sharp as they glittered beneath the fluorescent lights.
On unsteady legs, Liam stepped forward and lifted one of the blades. He stared at it, turning it over in his hands. He didn’t look afraid at that moment. He’d been here long enough to know what came next, and he was prepared to do it.
"Liam, you will skin Ms. Warren alive. The IV bag will replenish any blood lost to ensure she remains alive as long as possible."
"Holy fucking shit," I muttered.
"Begin," Sam said.
