A Match Made in Hell

Chapter 5 - Struggles

   Victoria stays silent and stays on the floor for a few more moments, grunting in pain with each and every movement, her body and mind aching with pain and agony. She slowly sat herself up, the gashes on her body sending shooting pains through her body, causing her to cry out in pain. She wanted to go home. She wanted her husband. Her pitiful cries reverberate off the damp stone walls, a pathetic chorus to her anguish. After an eternity of struggle, she sits up against the wall, ragged breaths escaping bloodied lips. The physical wounds would heal, but the trauma inflicted runs far deeper. Broken on the outside to match her shattered spirit within. Still, some small spark refuses to succumb entirely - perhaps foolish hope, or sheer instinct for survival.

    Whatever the reason, that flame kept clinging to her consciousness, though every cell screamed for oblivions release. Darkness beckoned like an old friend, promising escape like a wicked nightmare. Yet, surrender was not an option, not while Mateo's fate remained intertwined with her own. She had to endure, if only to buy him more time. To warn him somehow, of the threat hunting them both like animals. Compliance bought temporary relief, but betraying her love ensured nothing but a painful death. For now, surviving another day would have to be enough. The games were not yet over, though dawn had broken on a new and bloody round.

    Victoria leaned against the wall, her body aching and shooting pain through every moment. She eventually found herself comfortable against the wall, her eyes slowly drifting closed as she fell into a slumber, her exhausted and broken body seeking refuge in the pits of sleep.

    Metallic scraping stirs Victoria from her fitful slumber, and she winces as the lances of pain returning to full awareness brings. Squinting against the sudden light, she sees Max descending once more. He strides into view, looking equally pleased and displeased with her condition. "I see our time together has had the desired effect, Victoria." He remarks dryly. Victoria says nothing, her eyes downcast but burning with undisguised loathing. Max smiles mirthlessly. "You'll find cooperation remains your only guarantor of continued survival." Producing a notebook, he flips pages until finding the one he seeks. "What routes does your husband commonly use? Safe houses or addresses he may flee to?" His pen hovers, expression impatient.

    A thousand retorts dance on Victoria's tongue, each sweeter than the last to utter. But self preservation and hope for Mateo's sake win out over rage or pride. She shakes her head mutely, eyes pleading through a mask of defiance. Max's smile vanishes. "I see we must continue your... Education." Snapping his fingers brings Leon and Francisco bounding into view like rabid dogs. Victoria's breath catches in terror, resolving crumbling as her nightmares prepare to begin anew. This game is not over yet. Her moves have dire consequences; one misstep means checkmate. Survival hangs by a fraying thread as the next round looms ever closer.

    Victoria stayed silent, her eyes wide as she pressed desperately into the wall, trying to get further away from the three men. Her breath caught in her throat, the horror evident as Leon and Fransisco stepped back into view. Max observes Victoria's panic with detached amusement. "It seems our pets still require persuasion." He nods to the waiting brutes. "Gentlemen, renew our guests, understanding of the stakes." Francisco and Leon descend upon Victoria like a pack of rabid dogs. Her screams echo off the cellar walls as they have their sadistic way once more. Broken bones crackle and skin rends beneath their massive fists. Within moments, Victoria hangs limp in their grasp, consciousness fading. "Now, Victoria, you have a choice - cooperate and heal, or continue your pointless struggle and suffer."

    He retrieves his notebook expectantly. "I will ask once more - what information can you provide about your husband's movements?" His grin is a mockery of patience as the thugs tighten their grip warningly on Victoria's ruined form. Checkmate draws even closer. Mateo's capture or death may be the only escape from this unwinnable game and its cruel masters. Victoria's next act could seal both their fates - if she could even blurt a response.

    She cried loudly and choked out gasps for air, sniffling and holding onto Leon tightly, sobbing and not being able to even mutter out a word. Blood dripped from the corner of her lips, her breathing raspy and struggling.

    Max asks impatiently as Victoria dissolves into hysterical sobbing. "Still your mewling, woman - it is unseemly." Crouching before her, he seizes a blood-matted handful of hair to force eye contact. "You have wasted enough of my time with your antics. Either you provide me with what I ask, or I reassign your living-corpse to the pits for carnal entertainment." His breath skates her cheeks like a winter wind. "Surely even a treacherous harlot such as yourself understands that obedience is the only path to salvation." A final nod to Fransisco extracts a fresh howl as her dislocated fingers are wrenched back into place with a nauseating crunch. "TELL ME!" Max roars in her face, flecks of spittle striking skin.

    Victoria sags limply, mind lost to the abyss of torment. Only instinct remains - survival above all. Her cracked lips form a single word. "P-Please..." A plea, or the beginning of surrendered secrets. Either way, the tradgedy's climax looms for all. Mateo's fate, and her own, hang by the slenderest threads in Max's brute hands. "Please... I don't know anything..." Was all she could say, her broken voice barely above a whisper. The pain resonated through her words, a clear testament to the immense pain and torment she'd been forced to succumb to.

    Max's eyes narrow dangerously, sensing Victoria's defiance even now through the pain. He stands in a fluid motion, straightening his jacket as if preparing for business. "It seems our time together has borne no fruit," he observes casually to his men. Both men grunt disappointedly. Max draws a sleek pistol from within his jacket and slides the chamber open idly as he paces before Victoria's broken and shattered body. "Pity such potential should be wasted. But, I've grown weary of chasing empty leads." He flicks the pistol closed with an ominous click and levels it at her tear streaked face. "Any last words or entreaties, Victoria, before you meet your well-deserved end?" He says as his fingers tantalisingly caress the trigger.

    All she could do was let out a soft, defeated breath, her forehead pressing against the gun. She was done... Even if she wanted to save herself, she couldn't... She knew nothing. Her final air of determination went out like a flame in water, all hope being drowned out as the cold barrel pressed against her forehead. Victoria had been pushed further than she could handle. Her body fell limp in Leon's arms, her eyes drifting closed as she finally fell unconscious, her body unable to handle the significance of her injuries. She was still alive... Unfortunately for her...

    Max's eyes narrow infinitesimally at Victoria's reaction, or lack thereof. Most prey begged and wept prettily at death's door. But this one showed no such weakness, clinging stubbornly to fading vestiges of defiance, even now. Curious. Lowering the pistol, he turns to the watching thugs. "Take her to the doctor, ensure she survives." They grunt in acknowledgement, hoisting Victoria's broken form and lumbering off. Pocketing his weapon, Max lights a cigarette, contemplating his defeated quarry through rising puffs of smoke. While broken completely as a woman, some flawless spirit remained caged within a ruined shell. Perhaps not all prospects were lost. New schemes began forming in his ruthless mind. If physical torment could not unlock her secrets, perhaps other methods held promise. After all, the game was never truly over until a final victor stood amidst the bloody wreckage. And Max was nothing if not a predator who never abandons the hunt.

    Victoria had fallen into a coma, her body forcing her to rest to regain strength. Her body was bruised and battered, though she'd likely make a full physical recovery with a few scars and marks here and there. Time passes in flux within the hospital ward as Victoria lingers at deaths' threshold. Her emaciated form is swathed in bandages, obscuring the true extent of her injuries sustained in Max's 'interviews'. Only the faintest rise and fall of her chest betrays lingering vestiges of life beneath deathly pallor. The bullet was not expelled, and additional trauma extracted a grievous toll. Max visited daily to monitor 'progress', if it can even be called that. His displeasure at delayed gratification is thinly-veiled. Still, a lingering fascination prevents ultimatum, for now. Then, one morning, change; lashes flutter upon lids like the wings of caged songbirds desperate to flee. Chest hitches as lungs gasp for air independently. Max smiles slowly and wickedly.

    Eyes seek focus, finding only darkness then him beside her. Instinct writhes feebly as mind struggles to surface through an ocean of agony. Max leans in close, smiling like a snake about to strike.

    "Rise and shine, little dove. It is time to begin our game anew."

    Check. One step closer to checkmate.