Body of Scars

Chapter X

(Jared’s P.O.V)

The chamber is freakishly unscathed. It remains old and untouched by the harsh flames of the fire that burnt the Johnson Manor to the ground. Beneath the Manor is something more immaculate than the crystal chandeliers and shining tiles of the home above. Beneath the Manor is an arching web of tunnels which lead to leaking pipe and weaponry rooms. And lastly the chamber. Cobwebs hang loosely from the stone walls, infinite scratches freckling the floors. The warm glow of Than and Dax’s torch gives the chamber a romantic and old feeling. 

I press my fingers gently to the cold stone and shut my eyes briefly. Charolette would have loved something like this. “Beautiful. Until you see what lies ahead” speaks our prisoner from behind the busty silhouette of Than who grips him tightly by the back of the neck. “Show us” growls Than and I see the man give a shadowed glance toward the far wall of the chamber. “What is it?” I ask quickly, my eyes moving swiftly from stone to stone in search of something I can’t see. “I don’t know if this parts true. I’ve only been told” whispers the prisoner regretfully, eyeing the stones with a fearful appreciation. “What might be true?” asks Sasha and the prisoner begins a slow shuffle toward the wall, Than walking steadily behind him, though I see his loosened his grip on his neck to a threatening pressure on the base of the prisoners neck. 

A sickening unease settles firmly in the pit of my stomach and I watch narrow-eyed as the prisoner reaches the wall and presses two fingers against the closest stone, his index and middle finger spread widely apart in the symbolic peace sign. Nothing happens. I wait a few more moments, eying the stone with a seething anger. 

After moments of tense anticipation Jona voices loudly, “Maybe this is the part where you say open sesame” The prisoner grunts and places both fingers on a different stone, applying ample pressure traditionally in the peace symbol. “Maybe it’s similar to the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter” begins Jona though is silenced by a deathly glower from Than.

More moments pass as the prisoner places his fingers separately on different stones. Nothing happens. I am almost glad when Jona speaks again. “Try I solemnly swear I am up to no good” Sasha gives an appreciative glance toward him and I see Jona grin widely. “Jona if you don’t shut up I’m going to-” though Dax’s threat is cut, fortunately, short by an odd click within the stone wall as I see the prisoner's fingers lower into the stone as it dents mechanically. 

The wall begins to pull open, the stones sliding expertly over one another in a slow infuriating motion. Our group watches in anticipating fascination and I can’t help being reminded of the Indiana Jones films I watched when I was a child. Abruptly the wall stops moving and reveals another chamber hidden. I step forward first into the next chamber. It is similar to the one I had just been standing in. Though I wish I had still been standing in the other chamber. 

This chamber smells of sweat, blood and decaying bodies. Red stains the stone walls and floods the cracks of the floor. Heaped piles of unwashed clothing lay bundled in all corners of the room. Though I can’t tear my eyes from the bodies which hang limply from the walls. On all walls the frail bodies of the deceased hang from tied hands and feet, their frames naked and faces pained. They are all dead, hanging like limp squares of meat. I feel bile begin to rise in my throat and hear Sasha give a throaty cough as she dry retches severely. It’s a torture chamber. Brimming with the corpses of at least ten people. They are all men, though I find it difficult to distinguish some as their bodies have been ripped and torn at. Torture tools lay obsolete on the floor of the chamber and I eye the whip in disgusted horror. “Oh my god” I hear Jona speak, accompanied by Dax and Than’s intake of breath. “So it’s true” speaks the prisoner softy and it is a few moments before I gather myself to ask, “Thomas did this?” I turn slowly the face the man, who’s face is drained of all color. “Yes. These are the sons of the men who couldn’t pay” his voice distracts me from the scene around me and I cling to every word. “Couldn’t pay what?” I ask dumbly. “For the life. The drugs and women and lifestyle. Men who hoped to be in the business though couldn’t afford it” replied the prisoner and I find what he is saying completely unclear.