Bad Blood

Chapter; introduction to the ceremony

Italics - present/ thoughts
Normal - flashback/memory

***
I wake with a start to the jingle of the keys coming from my cell door. I'm laying on my bed, dreading for the next few hours to come. The familiar footsteps of Schmidt has a un-wanting fear blossom inside of me.

His hasty footsteps slow down as he comes closer to me, my breath rapidly increases. Because of both fear and today's events. I look down in submission and wait for him to bark a order.

"Look up" he says, gruff and mean. "Today's a big day for you, princess - although, a larger day could have been the day you could of slept with me." he pauses for a moment, thoughtfully. "I want you ready by the end of the hour" I don't know how to respond to that statement, so I close my mouth and nod. Looking else where instead of his well built chest.

"Speak" He moved closer, as if daring me. I clutch the ends of my shirt, hard, and stare at the ground

"T-thank you for the information, Lieutenant" I say quietly.

"You're pathetic, can't even look me in the eye when you speak." He says. His voice mocking and husky. He enjoys the affect he has on me.
He moves closer. Fear swiftly slides into my gut. I pinch the back of my hand as he kept staring at me with his hawk-eyes. My hands soon become numb and fall limp to my sides. My heart pounds in my chest, begging to be let out.

"You're weak and fragile; almost like a newborn. I feel for you, Grace. I really do. But, this is business" he states. "And, if someone in the organisation is scared just like you, then I have no choice but to eliminate them" he cocks an eyebrow as he watched my brows and lips twitch.

I close my eyes to stop the tears from escaping the brim of my eyes. It's obvious I'm going to die, but that doesn't stop the feeling of betrayal and surprise. For some reason I feel exposed; as if he had just seen me naked without consent.

"Any input, Gracie?" His hands cup the back of my neck and a sudden layer of sweat forms on my forehead, I'm having flashbacks of yesterday of when he choked me. I still have the faint black and blue marks decorating my tan skin.

I flinch, over and over again as his fingers would softly tangle with my hair. I don't answer, I fear that my voice would crack and wobble if I try to answer him.

"You need to speak to me, Gracie, tell me how you feel" he inches his face closer to mine, his hands roughly massage the back of my neck - I feel a uprising ache gradually form. My jaw goes slack.

"I-I already know my fate, lieutenant. I'm b-being realistic" I say, remembering Damon's harsh words. My throat tight with fear I muster up a smile.

He pauses for a moment, his assault to my neck stopping too. He seemed surprised at my words. I cower, cringing away from the close proximity of his face.  His face breaks out in a cruel smile.

He removes his hand from my neck and I visibly relax. I realised my mistake and hope for a second he wouldn't of noticed. He did.

"You seem uncomfortable when I touch you, do you not like me. Gracie? I would never hurt a soul, although my thoughts say otherwise... don't cross me" He says, feigning hurt. Running a finger down my cheek. He's twisted and manipulated dozens - hundreds of other girls. I won't cave in, but, i'm scared.

***

I take a cold shower, I feel dirty after having Sage close to me. His hands on a body part which he can easily snap if he wanted. I dress slowly; loose grey shirt, black fitted joggers, and sit on my bed to place my combat boots.

Damon watches me me as I do my task, I could feel his patronising stare directed on me. I knew where he was looking; my neck. It had Sage's markings all over. I watch through my lashes as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

"Come on" He says - he sounds annoyed. he waits outside my cell as I finishing tying my shoe lace into a tight knot.

"You know how the ceremony goes, right?" He asks me softly. Moving closer and places a lock of my thick black hair behind my ear. His fingers tips skimmed the back of my ear for a brief second before he pulled away; realising what he did.

"You'll wait and stand; don't show emotion, you'll easily show weakness, especially when they're calling out ranks. If your names not called, when we've reach the pit then... congrats, you won't be dead. And if you're called, you know the outcomes" Our eyes meet by the end of his sentence. He presses his mouth into a struggling smile. His eyes flash with an unknown emotion.

His hands move down from my shoulder to my hands, he laced our fingers together. He then adds gently. "If you won't be picked, then there's something special about you."

His words gave me a little hope. Something to grasp ahold on until my last breath, which would most likely be in the next hour.

"That'll be a surprise" I whisper, wincing at my own mockery. My legs shake in anticipation. It's a strange thought, if I did so happen to come out alive. I was fairly new and didn't really have combat experience; I was more of a test subject than anything. A dummy for them to test their psychological torture on.

***

Once we reach the monochrome entrance of the ceremony room, Damon puts a hand close to my neck as we walk past the double doors. A sudden rush of uncomfortableness courses through my body as I subtly remove his grasp.

We walk up charcoal matte stairs, I struggle for air. Besides me Damon keeps licking and poking at his bottom lip. I rase my eyes up and meet the devious smirk of Schmidt and a stiff Xeno next to him. - Xeno almost looked horrified. But, he had composed himself the moment we made eye contact.

The room is bright, the small walls; bare while larger more prominent walls are decorated with art pieces, motivational quotes and pictures of World War Two, even the founders of the organisation.

The windows are shut except the one single one placed above on the ceiling, I watch as a black bird fly past the room, blocking the sunlight momentarily. I wish I was that bird; it was free and not held hostage. It didn't go on with its day fearing of what's going to happen next.

"I have faith in you, Grace" I relax under Damon's touch. Gradually, people fill the room. A majority who would get their ranks and a scornful few seconds of the metallic heat of a flame burned onto their sides, stand nervously on the edge of the small steps.

A tall muscular man walks to the eggshell coloured podium in the middle of the stage, he wraps his hand around the edge of the flat surface. Lucas is his respective name. His tanned knuckles are boney and discoloured.

Was he a lieutenant like Schmidt? Or did he just enjoy fighting - was he imhumane and was motivated by the blood, or was he doing it for the greater good? "Welcome to the ranks" his voice booms and vibrates against the walls. I shuffle closer to Damon. He didn't need the two mics perched in front of him, from my distance his voice was just as deep.