ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴀʟ

Chapter 15: Insult to Injury

A briskness coated your back, chilling you. The grooves of the metal were uncomfortable, pressing firmly into your skin. Your vision blurred in waves as you slowly regained consciousness, soon aware of the unwavering pain residing in the back of your head which spread around the front, engulfing your head with agony. "Fuck." You groaned, clasping your forehead.

Carefully, you arose, grasping a nearby bed frame for support. The room was cold, too cold for the spring. It was small enough to house only one (hence the singular bed). It was clad in metal and wood with bars being used as a door, wooden slabs nailed into the bottom for support. Dingy flickers of orange barely illuminated your room, pathetically cascading onto the floor. 

As your senses returned, sobs were audible in a neighbouring cell. "Brody?" You assumed, calling out aimlessly, approaching the bars. Peeking through, you could see her in the adjacent cell, curled in a tight ball as her shoulders violently wracked. "Are you ok?" You felt like an idiot for asking something so obvious. Anything with eyes could tell she was not ok. 

"Why would he do that?" You could barely decipher her words as she cried, her voice incredibly shaky and clogged. "He was supposed to be my friend." Her bawling morphed into hysterics, you wished you could stand beside her to offer comfort but you could only watch helplessly. "Why would he do that?" Unable to answer, you found yourself pondering the same; it was Marlon who rescued you, Marlon who gave you a place to stay, Marlon who was your first friend, yet he still threw you to the wolves. Brody continued to wail, her cries ricocheting from wall to wall. Gently clutching the bars, you rested your forehead against the rust, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing that if you opened them it would all be a dream, that you'd be back home, back with your friends.

Heavy footsteps suddenly reverberated, their thudding inching closer. You reeled yourself away from the bars, stepping back and observing from the shadows. Two adults trudged into view, one male and one female. The man had thin brown hair which greatly receded and heterochromia. The woman had dark hair secured in a bun and a long-sleeved shirt with a scarf draped loosely around her neck. 

The man charged up to Brody's cell, roughly kicking it and shouting, "Quit your crying!" He slammed his hand against the cell, "I've already told you." Brody must've been crying long before you woke up. 

You were quick to her defence. "Leave her alone, you dick!" He didn't, continuing to mock and berate her, shouting profanities through the door. "Can't you see she's scared? Back off!" You begged to no avail.

The woman blocked the pair from your view. Scowling, she said, "Make this easy for the rest of us and keep your mouth shut."

You gripped the bars tightly, turning your hands white as you seethed with anger. "You're both scumbags."

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you." She threatened. Gripping the bars with fury, you glowered.  

Hearing a creak, you peered over the woman's shoulder, seeing the man unlock Brody's cell, drawing closer. "Get away from her!" You screamed, incessantly slamming your palms against the bars. You were desperate to escape, to help Brody. You continued to screech and slam on the bars, kicking the hammered-in slabs as hard as you could.

"God, these two are annoying the fuck outta me already." Complained the man. "What I'd do to put a bullet in the whiny one's skull." You weren't sure if he meant you or Brody.

"Abel," the woman scolded, "you heard Lilly's orders. Things are getting tight, we need as many fighters as we can get. They'll come around eventually, same way Minerva did."

"Go to Hell!" You once again slammed on your cell door, "We'll never fight for you!"

With a huff, the man glared at you. "Aren't you a piece of work?" He growled. "Been here barely an hour and you're already causing us problems."

"Fuck you." You spat, raising your middle finger. 

"Now that isn't very polite," he mused sardonically. Looking at the lady, he commanded, "Take off her finger."

"What?" You barely had time to react before the woman unlocked your cell, clasping the back of your neck and throwing you onto the harsh metal floor, placing one boot at the centre of your spine and another upon your wrist. You flailed and struggled against her weight, punching and kicking to free yourself. You cursed at her to get off however it fell on deaf ears. 

"You brought this on yourself." She remarked. With that, she swiftly pelted the meat cleaver down onto your finger. An electrical jolt shot up your arm, wrapping it in a sharp sting. It streamed from your finger to your shoulder. However, it vanished as instantaneously as it came, morphing into a palpitating ache beating throughout your hand... and then came the pain. You clenched your teeth together in desperation, struggling to suppress the agony; the wound so insufferable your hand began to quiver. You could feel every open nerve ending as they kissed the air: a foreign feeling. They zapped and buzzed, pain slithering up and down your finger. A puddle of claret mimicked the shadow of where your finger once was. The liquid oozed out promptly, trickling down the amputation like a fountain. Searing fiery bursts pulsated around the injury, intensifying with every drop of blood. 

A yank of your shirt tore you from the scene, plunging you back into the darkness of your cell. "What a mess." One of them sneered. Pressing your back against the wall, you clutched your trembling hand tightly (as if it would ease the pain). You breathed a curse through gritted teeth, scrunching your eyes shut. Blood dripped onto your knee, staining your trousers. It cascaded down your hand, gradually painting your arm like vines. The bickers outside faded to background noise as you curled into a ball, the solitude of your cell worsening your emotions. Marlon had sentenced you to death.   

You rested a hand on your knee, damp blood smearing on your palm. Staring down at the amputation, a shock burst in the pit of your stomach as it sank in. Ignoring all other sounds, you just stared vacantly. You were empty.

Lazily looking up, a new figure stood between the cells, red hair complimented by the low light. The guard's shadow cast into your cell, barricading you from the light. They did not speak, their silence harbouring an eerie stillness. They frowned at the pool of blood beside them, wondering where it had come from. Averting their gaze, they peered into Brody's cell then turned to look at yours, instantaneously snapping back around upon noticing your vigilance. 

"Tenn," the guard spoke, "is he ok?"