Commissioned [completed]

Chapter 37 - unhallowed ground

It was too bright. Your ears were screaming at you. Your head throbbed painfully, your mouth was full of grit, and your throat had become sandpaper.

Figures were peering down at you.

"I don't...." you tugged at your arms but felt them bolted down somehow. Your back was against some flat and cold—stone or metal. You jostled and turned to look at a steel cuff around your wrist; you turned again, the other wrist too... you fought against your legs. Your vulnerable soft tummy was all too exposed. "I don't consent.." you rattled at the restraints.

People were milling around, and you couldn't quite make them out. They were in white robes, talking, some laughing, utterly unconcerned with you. You couldn't take in the room for the bright lights shining on you, but you knew you didn't hear any water hindering their steps. You were no longer in the sewer. You had walked so far away from where you had left your phone...you couldn't know how long you were out. Terzo, Sodo and the ghouls would never find you. But you wouldn't be sacrificed without making it everyone's fucking problem. "You can't... do shit! I don't consent!" You tried louder.

The room became quiet, and you felt fleeting attention. The gather seemed miffed but undeterred as if you'd said a faux pas at a party—it all just went on without you. Then they went back to what they'd been doing. A masculine figure approached something glinting in their hand.

"Hey, woah! What are you...." it didn't matter what you said. It didn't matter what you did. You did not matter. The fact was solidified as something sharp from the man's hand cut deep into the side of your throat. It was not enough to pierce your windpipe. You knew anatomy; you painted anatomy... a corroded artery lived there. Wet heat trickled down your neck into your hair. "No." You struggled. You wouldn't stop; you'd never stop. "NO." You yelled more firmly. The cuffs cut at your wrists.

"Calm down, your sacrifice will be seen, and you will take your place in his beloved kingdom." You knew that voice, Mulwater; he sounded bored.

"Whatever you're selling, your red-eyed son of a bitch," you yanked hard at your left hand and felt something tear in your wrist. "I don't fucking want it." You couldn't see, but you hoped his eyes were still ruined from the ghost peppers.

"You will see, you weren't meant for this world; your blood makes you special, and you will be rewarded for bringing it to us." He petted your arm, and just like that, he fucking walked away.

"I am not special," you yanked and tore more skin. "I just have a blood type. The holy O negative, and you'll tell yourself anything to justify your actions. I am meant to be in whichever world I choose. You're bullshit!" You yelled. "Bull-shit!" You kicked. "I choose hell," you cried out. "I choose hell, and so help me, when I crawl out again..." you hissed but felt yourself weakening. You heard fat wet drops of blood falling from the table you were on, heard them gathering in some holy pale. You sniffed. You didn't want to die. You had to do it, sure... but not before your dad. He had lost enough. You had a life to live with Marie; she was your soulmate. "I... I have things I have to do...." Your voice came out a whisper, your body writhed, and you tugged fruitlessly.

"She's leaving us...." murmured someone actually acknowledging you.

"They..." you corrected.

"Let's deliver her..." another said, almost over the top of you.

You felt bodies gathering around you. "You don't get to choose... what's best for me.."

"She doesn't know," a feminine, doting voice came. "Bless her."

"Yes, bless her!" A man, much louder, proclaimed.

"I shall read from the book of scripture," an even louder man spoke. The performative nature of it all made you want to barf.