I gasp as my head uncontrollably lunges forward, forcing my ebony hair to flick into my eyes. I keep my head there for a white as I desperately fight for the air to return to my lungs. My breath ceases to be as rapid. I'm alive. I'm alive! I smile to myself. I lie back down... No, I'm not lying down. I'm strapped to what looks like a vertically turned mattress. I look straight ahead. Sitting in a chair directly in front if me, smiling smugly, a man with grey- almost white- eyes. His light brown hair greasy with sweat. He cocks his head to the left as his smile grows wider, revealing perfectly white teeth and the large bloodied gaps in between.
"Good morning, princess." He says, his voice rough with an extremely noticeable Canadian accent.
"Who are you?" I barely manage to choke out. Unfortunately I must be suffering the side affects of the unpleasant drug that was forcefully given to me.
"No one you would know," he was right, I didn't recognise him "but I know a lot about you. How do think I would've found you if I didn't?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you stalked me." I gag.
"I did not..... Ok I did. I might've gone to your foster parents and asked where you were. They're fine, don't worry, but you should've seen the lady scream. We had to gag her in the end, what was his name? Felix, yes he was the one who told us where you were. So, we waited." He laughs.
"You're .. A maniac." I cough out. I have more to say, but every word feels like a painfully, sharp object rising from my throat and escaping leaving me breathless.
"Do you like my decorations?" He sweeps his hand in a gesturing fashion. I look around and am horrified by what I see... Each one of my friends, slumped onto chair where their hands are tied behind their backs and their ankles bound to the chairs' legs with cable ties. Gagged as well. He smiles as he waits impatiently for a reply.
"You're sick." I pant.
"Hey! That's mean," He says pulling a false sad face "don't worry, they're not even dead." I smile and let out a smug chuckle "well, most of them aren't dead." He adds sinisterly. I let my smile drop, I don't know why I was expecting my luck to turn.
"What do you mean?"
"Russian roulette!" He exclaims proudly. I look at him quizzically "but with syringes. Two syringes filled with nasty stuff, nine friends." Suddenly I don't care about the pain each word causes me and I scream
"WHAT HAVE THEY DONE?!"
"They're your friends, of course they have to be punished. And you don't even know the best part!" He answers.
"WHAT?!" I demand.
"The two syringes contain different amounts of the poison, so they will wake up like the others. You won't even know which ones are going to die, until POOF they're gone. The first will die tomorrow, the second the next day!" He screams with twisted excitement, the noise must've woke them. They look at me with fearful looks, each stare making me feel more and more guilty.
"So, kill me." I say.
"No, no, no, no, no. Killing you would be a waste. Of course, we killed your parents," he smiles proudly "but killing you would be a waste of a good fighter. You are better than your parents and you know that. I'm going to use you."
"And what if I don't? What if I don't want to fight for you?" I retort.
"Why do you think we took your friends, hmm? We'll hurt them if you don't." I here a muffled scream coming from the side of me. Falicia. "Oh, shut up would you?"
"I'll do it, I'll do what ever you want. Just don't hurt them, please." I beg.
"We will let you visit them, because two are going to be dead soon and we're not that cruel." He says, pleased by the fact that I agreed. "Anyway, enough of the chitchat." He points to a tall boy that I didn't even notice was standing to the right of the Canadian "you! Take her to her quarters and stay with her and if she tries anything funny tell me and I'll kill one." The boy walks over to me obediently and cuts my wrist straps with a penknife. He leads me out of a door that was behind me, but blocked my the mattress. I stumble down a corridor that resembles a dirtier version of a hospital corridor. We enter a small room with a gymnastics mat on the floor. I guess this is my "quarters".
YOU ARE READING
The Prey
ActionI can remember when i was little that i was jealous of other kids because they had a normal life. I wanted it so badly that i forced my family away so i could be fostered into an average home. But now my past is hunting me down.
