𝐺𝑈𝐸𝑅𝑅𝐴

𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴: 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵

Accomplice

A quiet emptiness, a dark room. Ragged ropes pierced through the skin of my arms and legs as I tried to escape. A rag stuffed in my mouth, muffling my desperate screams. Cold sweat and warm blood intertwined as they dripped down my face. I've watched all my comrades die a painful death, and I was next.

The sound of those demonic footsteps echoed through the room like an overwhelming warning. The hair on the back of my nape stood. My heart quickened with every short breath. A light shined upon me, marking me as the next victim.

The sudden beam of light caused me to look away. As my eyes adjusted, they were met with his. His venomous stare paralyzes me motionless. His eyes skimmed my bruised body, covered in dry blood, most of what wasn't even mine. My dislocated bones were bound to be broken along with my nailless fingers. He was set on breaking me, then killing me. Just like he did to the others—slitting their throats, piercing their hearts, or simply just shooting them right in the head. And all I could think was: I'm next.

He grabbed an injector from the tray and began having it suck in an unknown substance. All I could do was watch wide-eyed as tears began to overflow. I tried to plead through the rag as I moved around in my chair, hoping the rope that tied me down would loosen so I could make a run for it. He unmuffled me, his mind set on the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

"Please! Please don't do this!" I begged.

"Oh? And why shouldn't I?" He questioned, his eyes looking over the injector that was now full.

"I'll do anything! Please! Just let me go!"

"Anything?"

"Yes! Yes, anything!"

"Bring her back then." He spoke of his wife, Dayanara. The one he found on the ground, dead, with a bullet in her head after giving birth to their youngest. The story was I was the one who shot her, but in truth, I never shot anyone that night.

"I can!"

"Bullshit." He spat, not sparing me a glance.

"I swear to you, I can!" His jaw clenched, his patience running visually thin.

"Then please, tell me, how you're going to resurrect her from the dead."

"She isn't dead! Dayanara is alive!" He grabbed the injector and stabbed it into the side of my neck but didn't release anything. I screamed, my lips, unable to hold in my agony.

"I don't ever want to hear her name coming from your filthy mouth." His voice was low, threatening, his brows furrowed and breathed heavily as he stared holes into me. "Understood?"

"U-Understood." He turns around placing his hands on the edges of the table that held torture devices. His breathing was now steady.

"What do you mean she's alive?"

"The body you saw wasn't hers."

"Well, it damn well looked like it!" He yelled.

"It was a fake copy." I was careful with my tone, in any given moment he could inject venom into me.

"What?!" His head snapped towards me.

"A realistic manikin," I answered. He paused for a moment, letting it all soak in.

"Where is she?"

"I-I-I don't know..." Another brief pause. "But! I know she's still in the states."

"If what you're saying is true then why hasn't she contacted me." His body tensed at his question.

"They told her you were all dead." I felt my body ache as well as my vision beginning to blur. A pounding headache comes in, making me dizzy. As I tried to concentrate on my surroundings I saw him holding an empty injector. "You bastard." I managed to say before my body began to shake and something began oozing out of my mouth.

"I've been called worse," was the last thing I heard before my vision completely blurred into darkness.