The Risks

July: Chapter 19

Half an hour passed before another man entered the room. I was sitting in the corner of the cell with my arms wrapped around my knees, but I looked up when I heard the door open and keys rattle.

The guy was huge and had a shaved head and squinty eyes that reminded me of Mr. Clean from the paper towel commercials. None the less, Jim wasn't joking around. He'd sent someone he knew would take me down if need be.

Mr. Clean walked up to the bars, placed his meaty hands on his hips and let out a heavy sigh.

"Stand up," he ordered. His voice was rough like sandpaper in my eardrums.

I stood.

"Come over here."

I walked up close to the bars.

"Now don't move," he said. "Or I'll kill you myself."

I stayed still as he frowned at me. He leaned a little closer, looking me up and down, then he scoffed.

"You look disappointed," I said.

"I was expecting more of the girl who killed my brother."

"Maybe your brother was just weak," I hissed, holding the pocket knife tightly in my fist.

His frown deepened. His expression was toxic. When he in closer toward me and opened his mouth to say something, I plummeted my knife straight into his left pupil.

Bullseye.

He immediately dropped the keys and staggered backward as he let out a shriek you would never expect to come out of a man like Mr. Clean. While he writhed, I dropped to the floor -stomach flat on the cold cement- and stuck my arm between the bars. I reached desperately for the keys.

Should have waited until he opened the door, dumbass.

They were just outside my reach. I pushed myself to reach further. I had to. I grimaced as my shoulder pressed painfully against the bars. Surely Mr. Clean would soon come out of his distraction and kill me for what I did. My middle fingertip grazed the keyring. I slowly curled the finger and my fingernail caught the metal ring. I pulled the keys in carefully at first, then quickly once I had a better grip on them.

The second key on the ring unlocked the cell door and I pushed it open eagerly. Mr. Clean stumbled toward me, aware that I'd managed my way out. The handle of the knife protruded disgustingly from his bleeding eye. When he was nearly on top of me, I grabbed the handle of the knife and ripped it out of his eye, causing him to shriek again. Then I drove the blade into his temple and he fell heavily to the floor.

I needed to move. Someone was sure to have heard Mr. Clean's cries. I bolted through the door and into a dark hallway. Florescent lights shone lazily from their spots on the ceiling. I started down the hallway until I heard approaching footsteps, then I pushed open a door to my left and closed it behind me.

I turned and slammed into something that felt like a punching bag and gasped in horror.

Torsos. Human torsos. At least a dozen of them hanging from the ceiling by meat hooks. The skin pale and cold. Ragged, dripping flesh where hips should have been.

I wanted to scream, but my lungs were busy pushing and pulling air in quick, shaky gasps.

Human meat. That was what was on the plate. That was what Jim offered me to eat and that's what he had eaten. He'd just eaten it like it was a filet steak. Then I realized: this is what they're going to do to me if I don't get out.

I stumbled through the room, trying my hardest not to touch any of the hanging torsos or look at the places where their limbs and heads had been severed.