A Little Lost

Chapter Fourteen: Beyotch herself is back

THIRD PERSON

The fraternity house was cloaked in the deepening shadows of evening, its old wooden walls echoing with the muffled sounds of raucous laughter and distant music. Inside, the atmosphere was charged with a mixture of nervous energy and palpable tension. The living room had been cleared out, leaving only a long wooden table and a few scattered chairs, their surfaces worn from years of use.

Derrick, the imposing figure of authority within the Sinag Gamma Phi fraternity, paced the room with an air of self-assured dominance. His sharp eyes scanned the new recruits lined up against the far wall. Each of them, clad in simple white shirts and jeans, faced the wall with their backs turned, their shoulders tense with apprehension.

The new members were undergoing their initiation, a ritual designed to test their resolve and dedication to the fraternity. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced along the walls as a single light bulb flickered overhead. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and fear.

Ian, Derrick's closest confidant and right-hand man, stood by his side. Ian's presence was both reassuring and menacing, his loyalty to Derrick unquestionable. Together, they led the initiation with a practiced ease that belied the gravity of their actions.

Derrick held a wooden paddle, its surface smoothed from repeated use, and as he approached the recruits, he could sense their rising anxiety. The paddle was an emblem of the fraternity's harsh tradition, and its purpose tonight was to assert dominance and test the limits of the new members. The rhythmic thud of the paddle striking the wall echoed through the house as Derrick demonstrated the process to the gathered members.

One by one, the initiates were called forward. They were instructed to face the wall, their hands placed firmly against it to brace themselves. As each recruit awaited their turn, the tension in the room escalated. The initiates' faces were a mask of stoic resolve and underlying dread, their breaths shallow as they prepared for what was to come.

The paddle made contact with the first initiate, the sound sharp and resonant. The recruit flinched but remained silent, gripping the wall tightly. Derrick's expression remained impassive, his gaze cold and detached as he carried out the ritual. The process continued methodically, each stroke a testament to the fraternity's rigorous traditions.

It was in these moments that Derrick's true nature was revealed. Behind the façade of leadership and camaraderie, there was a darker, more sinister edge to his character. His eyes, though seemingly focused on the task at hand, betrayed a chilling satisfaction. The pain and discomfort of the initiates seemed to fuel his sense of control and superiority.

Ian observed closely, his expression a mixture of approval and curiosity. He was well-acquainted with Derrick's methods and shared his view of the initiation process, but there was an unspoken understanding between them that this was more than just a tradition; it was a demonstration of power.

The members of Sinag Gamma Phi, each marked with a sun ray tattooed on their pelvic area, were a visible symbol of their allegiance. The tattoo, a mark of their commitment to the fraternity, was a constant reminder of the trials they had endured to earn their place. The sun ray, an emblem of the fraternity's name, Sinag Gamma Phi, reflected their shared identity and unspoken oath.

As the initiation drew to a close, Derrick's expression remained unwavering, a silent testament to his unyielding authority. The new members, though battered and exhausted, stood as symbols of their perseverance. They had endured the trials set before them, bound by the traditions of Sinag Gamma Phi and their unspoken loyalty to Derrick.

DERRICK

The room was thick with the acrid smell of sweat and the sound of nervous breaths. I stood at the center of it all, the paddle gripped tightly in my hand. The initiation was underway, the new recruits lined up against the wall, their backs turned to me. Each strike of the paddle against the wall echoed with a rhythm that I had come to find almost hypnotic.