The Cursed

Chapter Nine: Fight or Flee

The first room I entered was dark and gloomy. It reeked of mold and rats. If I hadn't known that Mark was being kept here somewhere I probably would have left and asked someone else to save him. The room's scent made me that nauseous. I hoped the other rooms smelled better.

The second room I entered was spacious. It still had a menacing feel to it, but it was not as terrible as the first. The smell filled this room too. There was a single chair in the center of the room. Instead of a person sitting on it, there was a pile of ropes. It looked as though someone had just left after untying themselves. Mark, I thought, Mark could have sat there.

I ran out of the room and into the second, third, fourth. As I ran out of the final room something whooshed past my cheek. I was being ambushed. It was a trick.

"Shit! My leg!" I heard someone scream from far behind me. I recognized that voice...Mark! He was mumbling to himself about how he knew it stupid of him to try to escape. How it would only backfire. "Fight or flee..." He mumbled, "Flee or fight." It seemed as though he was in shock. I could hardly imagine what they could have done to him.

I pushed us down to the ground and began crawling away, looking back to see if Mark was doing the same. Seeing that he was, I tried to remember how to leave.

I guided Mark through the poison-like scented rooms and guided him to the stairs, leading him to safety. However, just as we made it our salvation, the bullets rained down. The fell like rain, like a massive storm sending the rain at us from all directions.

The bullets were not being fired in total succession, we did have some time to breathe. We ran to the door, I was not sure if we would even make it out. But we did.

When the sunlight hit us, I don't know who was more grateful, myself or Mark. Mark was grateful to be free of The Cursed. Me, I was grateful for making it out alive, with both myself and Mark safe from any fatal harm.

Our team was standing by waiting for our report on what had transpired down in the tunnels. I talked of the stench and told my side of the fight.

Mark's story was so much worse. He talked of the torture he had to go through. How The Cursed used their curses in making his time down there miserable.

He talked of feeling as though he was drowning, when he was only just lying down. He talked of the thousands of tiny shocks one cursed person gave to him each day, seemingly each hour. And worst of all was what he was fed: a small, nearly stale loaf of wheat break, a slice of old cheese, and warm water. He was fed, as far as he knew, once a day.

It was nearly torture for myself to hear of all the pain he had gone through. It was then that I decided two things. One, I was going to do all I could to win this war, even at the cost of my own life, and two, I would do all that was in my power, including using my power and forcing a vision, to keep Mark safe even if it cost me my own safety.