Game Of Survival •in editing•

15 A Little Boy and His Sister

I'm in the right wing of the house when Rider summons me—excitedly I must add. It's always a joy to hear his voice screeching my name first thing in the morning. I'm tempted to ask what's stuck up his ass before the sun has time to settle in the sky but I figure I won't piss him off until later.

"The General is asking for you. Says he needs to speak about what happened yesterday." His eyes twitch at the end. I'm absolutely sure Rider's hate for me has sunken deep into the depths of his cold heart from my blatant disregard for human life yesterday. Something like regret settles in my stomach. I do know that all lives are sacred. Death is not a joy ride after all. But the selfish part of me screams to not let my guard down, no matter what. Lia was no harm, but then again I act the same as well. We're all our own demons hiding behind pretty white painted veils at the end of the day.

"What does he want."

"He would like to chat." A voice booms from down the hall. Rider struggles to hold in a smirk and I scowl at the way his eyes light up and my being caught. "Is that okay?"

I sigh, flinging my dirty towel at Rider's face, enjoying the way he screeches and swats it like a disease infested piece of scrap. "Sure. Make it quick General, I do have things to do."

I hear a chuckle leave the caged form of his lips; deep and throaty. The mere sound of it sends my stomach plummeting. At this point, my body is the worst betrayer I've had the misfortune of fighting in years. He passes Rider, patting him on his back, then leads us down the hallway. I smile my brightest, sweetest smile at him, doing the same. I smile even wider knowing the heat surrounding us is from his ability to withhold his urge to murder me right here and now.

I follow the General down dozens of stairs—stairs I hadn't seen from the days I've been here. There is a heavy iron wrought door at the end of an extremely long hallway. I think we're underground, but I can't be too sure since there were no visible windows on our way down here. The air is cold and musty, it reeks something horrid and metallic—a permanent, invisible stain marring the edges of the door. It's as if death was given life in these very rooms.

"Where the hell are we and why does it smell like a bloodbath." I slow when he places his hands on the doorknob. His face is calm, a hint of a smile playing on his face. And I have absolutely no idea what kind of thoughts this smile hides. "Finally decided I'm not worth the trouble?"

He smiles wider. The band around my stomach from earlier grows tighter. I write it off as anxiety born from pure confusion. "No, little lynx." He replies, pushing open the black demon portal. "I just want to talk. No one can hear any conversation beyond these doors."

"This...is a torture chamber, General. Do you want me to talk or do you want me to scream?" I manage to thread a hint of amusement through my words. But the truth is an unwanted memory that floods my brain, sealing my feet to the cold ground. I swallow hard, my vision clouding.

"I don't do well with these types of rooms. Is there anywhere else we can talk?" I try not to lose the solidity in my voice. But the memory fights it's way to the surface. I did say Kat trained me in the likes of mercenary work. She had two years to do it. I never said it was easy.

His face morphs into confusion, but he closes them anyway. His eyes seem to see right through me as he stares at me, regarding every inch of my placid features. He seems to know I'm very good at hiding things I don't want him to see and it irks my very soul. But his smile turns gentle, more sincere. More understanding. He doesn't press. Instead he closes the door shut once more and leads us down another hallway.

It's silent for a minute too long and my skin pebbles from the coldness of being underground. So I let my mouth do what it wants. "Seems like there's an entire prison plan down here." I scan the walls repeatedly. Over and over, all I see is the same dreary, dead colour. Maybe a bit of red to add the fun into the mixture.