The Volki

Chapter One, Wish I Can Forget

No! No! I feel myself slipping back. I try and try to push myself away, but it's inevitable. You can't forget everything; it subconsciously influences our actions and thoughts, even if we can't remember. It lies somewhere, waiting to resurface...

"Number Four, you know what happens when you fail." Master stands in front with his sick grin, holding the whip dyed red from all the beatings.

Kneeling down, submitting, I unconsciously said, "Yes, Master."

One after another, the whip tears through my back, shredding my shirt and skin. I feel the extreme pain just coursing through me, but I stay quiet, not even making a peep, being emotionless. I can tell Master is getting frustrated now; he loves hearing our screams and the pain on our faces. But I don't give him the satisfaction; emotions are weak, leading to many people's downfall, and Master is no exception.

Internally, I am screaming. I'm crying in pain. My back looks like a platter of shredded meat. I'm a slave. I'm a monster. I'm a tool for assassinations—a weapon to be used willy-milly without remorse or regret.

"Stand up, Number Four." Master commands, knowing that I would cause me great pain.

Master just laughed, smirked, and enjoyed my struggles. His face expressed pure satisfaction, relishing every ounce of my misery. I know that the only thing keeping me here on the ground are the others. They are my lifeline, and I'm theirs. We survive together. We bear each other's pain.

"Stand up, Number Four!" Master shouts again, not pleased.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I force myself up, pushing against the pain. Rising up, a surge of determination courses through me. But with each inch I ascend, I feel my own blood trickle down my back.

Glazing below my feet, you could see my red metallic blood just puddling up. "Number One," Master calls out for Nikita, smirking, knowing I break every time.

"Master," I call out.

Realizing that I spoke, Master immediately grabbed my throat. "Number Four, you know the rules." His face was lit up like a Christmas tree, imagining the different things he could torture me with.

Rule 3: Do not speak without permission.

But I didn't think he would take it this far. Usually, when I break the rules, it's either a beating without food and water for a week or a torture session where I watch as he plays with the others. And when I mean "play," it's actually torture with knives, guns, whatever Master can get his hands on.

Seeing Master pull out his gun, I expect a gunshot wound. Not standing in front of Max with the gun in my hand. "Number Four, it's him or them." Master states, making me look over to see Lillian, Nikita, and Nikhil. All are being held at gunpoint by the guards. To make it worse, I know that there is no way out.

We have tried many times to leave, but every time, we have been unsuccessful. It's not just a building; it's a bastion of secrecy and power, guarded by layers of security that seem impenetrable. Security cameras, guards, keycards, fingerprints, pressure plates—you name it, and you can find it here. They try hiding the security details from us, but we are trained assassins. We are observant like hell. What do you expect?

Looking at everyone's faces, Lillian and Nikhil were full of fear; Nikita was blank, but Max's face was of acceptance. He wanted us to push forward to survive and said that it was his time to go. "Push forward and live", Max said, smiling with joy and sadness. Right before, Master forced me to shoot my best friend; no, my brother.

"No! N-n-n-o-o-o!!! Max!" I wake screaming, crying in shock, pushing against the force holding me down.

My vision was blurry. My throat was dry. I still felt Master's hands choking me.