Grimm Games

Chapter 36: Grimm Piper

My vision strained against the bright lights as my back rested against familiar cold steel. I tried to turn my head to shield my eyes from the harsh light but couldn't. It was as if my neck muscles were nonexistent.

As I lay on an icy slab, it triggered a memory that transported me to the backstage area. I finally opened my eyes to the sterile white space. My eyes shifted to take in my new surroundings.

The stark white room felt so small. It was as if I could touch any of the four walls just by reaching out. Some advanced medical machinery aligned one of the walls and on the opposite wall were monitors and various equipment.

In a corner sat a variety of cell phones stacked haphazardly on a table. They lay in a pile amongst several dozen other cracked black screens and battered metal. A single door remained closed to my left. Where it led was unknown, but something in me wanted to find out.

Groggy and confused, my worries were on Millie and Jade. Were they okay? Were they somewhere nearby? Had they succumbed to the same predicament?

I ignored the chilly air of the space and tried to sit up on the table to no avail. I needed to find out where Millie and Jade were and make sure they were alright, but like dense lead, my limbs refused to budge.

Tired and exhausted, sleep threatened to take me under again, but I fought the urge to doze off so I could take in any information that could help me in my difficulty.

My eyes scanned the room. There was no clock on the wall, no calendar, nothing to tell me the time of day or even what day it was. Worse still, there wasn't a visible camera anywhere, meaning whatever happened in the room wasn't being recorded, viewed, or captured.

I ignored the unease that settled in my gut and examined the pile of forgotten cell phones.

Whose cell phones made up the mound they were stashing? Did any of them work? If I had enough strength to get up and retrieve one, would it be of any use? Or maybe they were just hollow husks of useless technology?

I attempted to reach out for one, and to my surprise, my hand moved. With newfound determination, I focused my strength on lifting my arm nearly a full ninety degrees from the table. I felt a surge of pride as I gently set it down again without letting it fall. However, I could sense the sedative taking over again and relaxed, concentrating on my breathing.

After drifting in and out of consciousness for who knows how long, tingles gathered at the tips of my fingers and toes. With effort, I managed to tap my fingers strategically against the metal table beneath me. But before I could test the cooperation of any other limbs, the door to the room swung open. I quickly closed my eyes and lay still as someone entered, the door clicking shut behind them.

The way the door swung open so fast made it clear that Arcanum personnel had little regard for privacy or care.

The sound of heavy boots on the linoleum floor and a robust inhale suggested a male in my presence. His upbeat and cheerful whistling was a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation and filled me with unease.

The whistling man came closer, and I willed myself to stay still, breathe normally, and act asleep. Wild thoughts of what might transpire flooded my head and I wanted nothing more than to be at home in the comfort of Jade's arms.

The footsteps stopped right beside my bed, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me and my body. My heart rapidly pounded in my chest, but I kept my breathing slow and steady, feigning unconsciousness. The man chuckled softly, a sinister sound that sent chills down my spine.

"You're a lucky one, you know," he murmured, his voice low and menacing. "Most wouldn't have made it this far. But here you are, still breathing."

A rough hand grabbed my exposed arm, lifting it slightly but firmly. My skin prickled as he secured the cold, crescent-shaped blade against my forearm attached with the cuff. The metal felt icy against my skin, and I fought the urge to flinch. He adjusted it with a lack of care, as if he was handling a sturdy instrument rather than a weapon designed to damage and inflict pain.