The Darkest Of Secrets

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The crumpled bodies of the guards emitted the slick, crimson liquid across the polished tiles, the substance seeping into the grooves. A wave of nausea washed over me, the sight almost propelling me to also collapse to the dazzling floor. Managing to peel my eyes away from the sickening sight, I looked over to a smug Ruvik, effortlessly slipping more bullets into the handgun's magazine. His sadistic smile looked more confronting on Leslie's soft and delicate features. He must have noticed the mixture of horror and disbelief on my face as he raised his eyebrows at me.

"What?" he asked, a little too casually.

"How.......how could you?" I whispered the words.

"Life is cruel, sweetheart," Ruvik slipped his cold hand on my shoulder. "I did the miserable bastards a favour."

I was bent over now, hands clasped over my knees, breathing becoming more shallow. The sight of the blood sent waves of dizziness through me, forcing me to sit on the floor. I would have thought that my past experiences as a detective and the last month or so of trauma would have toughened my resolve but here I was, a shaking mess on the floor. No, it wasn't due to the fact that I was poorly equipped to handle such a situation. It was the never ending exposure to such situations that had driven me to a vulnerable state. The old tones of my haunting hallucinations took the opportunity to rear its ugly head, the lines of slick blood rising into spindly fingers, reaching out to me. I refused to move out of their path though, allowing its imaginary grip to wrap around my leg. I could vaguely hear Ruvik's voice, sardonic and ordering me to stand. My blurring vision made out the shaking of the gun near my head as Ruvik made threats to shoot me. I closed my eyes and allowed unconsciousness to claim me.

I awoke in a cold sweat, a darkened room surrounding me. My eyes swept the walls to see an assortment of weapons, placed in metal holders. A workbench ran the length of the wall, crude implements placed on it with such precision. And the most unpleasant sight, Ruvik standing in the corner of the room, absentmindedly twirling a thin hooked instrument. I sat up quickly, already assuming its hooked end would be piercing my skin. I had made a mistake though as the hasty action welcomed the nausea and dizziness again, sending me to the concrete floor again.

"Oh finally!" Ruvik huffed with a hint of impatience. "I thought you would never wake up. You are delaying my plans."

I barely registered his words as the room was spinning. He came into focus as he stepped into my line of sight, his intimidating figure muddled by my fragmented vision. He considered me with a scrutinising look, slightly shaking his head.

"You have become weak, Castellanos," he observed. "You're not as strong as I remember."

"You may have something to do with that," I answered, attempting to sit up again.

My second attempt still made me feel sick but to a lesser degree, the dizziness subsiding as the room slammed into focus. I took a few calm, measured breaths as I prepared myself for the bigger task of standing up. It turned out I didn't have the time to go about it slowly as Ruvik rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh and pulled me roughly to my feet by my arm. The room began to swirl into an indecipherable blend again as Ruvik aimed to steady me.

"Stop wasting my time, Seb," Ruvik spat in my face. "We have work to do."

"Work?" I asked, shakily. "What work?"

"Eliminating the infestation, of course," Ruvik answered as if it were obvious. "Mobius still have a debt they need to pay. And that price must be in blood."

His eyes lit up at the thought of countless multitudes of dead bodies. Disgusted, I stepped back, refusing to take part in such a despicable act.

"Enough blood has been shed," I spoke quietly. "All I aim to do is rescue Joseph........and I'll be on my way."

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