The Cunning (18+)

3

"Is she still alive?" a faraway voice asked.

"She'll come around. Go get the bucket in case she throws up."

Madison's body regained consciousness one nerve at a time, fighting the current pulling her down. The smell of marijuana consumed her. Her brain pounded aggressively, beating against her skull. It took all the energy she had to pry her eyes open. The dim yellow glow from the light was too bright, even through the thick layer of smoke hovering around the room. She blinked. It looked like someone's living room. Three men came into focus, all of them doing somersaults in her vision. The pasta she had on her break came hurtling back up without warning, sending chunks of undigested chicken splattering down into a blue bucket wedged between her feet. Tiny spots of white shivered in her peripherals.

"You owe me a tenner," one man said. "I told you she'd throw up if you used chloroform." He was sitting at a rectangular dining table against the wall to her right now. The man he was talking to sat opposite him. The third hunched over in a worn armchair in the corner on her left. He watched her with an unhinged stare.

Madison lifted a hand to wipe her mouth and found it attached to the other via cable tie. "What's going on?" she murmured.

"Isn't she a picture?" The wide-eyed guy in the armchair spoke in a low voice.

"What do you want us to do with her?" one of the men at the table asked. He had sandy yellow hair and icy blue eyes that would have been angelic in different circumstances.

The other man got out of his armchair and crouched in front of Madison. He reached up to hold her chin, examining her face from all angles. Next to her on the sofa came a soft groan that made Madison flinch. She had failed to see the sickly young woman lying there, mistaking her for a pile of clothes. Her face had a waxy sheen and mousy hair clung in greasy clumps to the sweat on her forehead. The girl moved and stopped, finding the ordeal too much.

"How old are you?" the man asked, claiming Madison's attention again. Up close, it was clear he was on something. The whites of his eyes had cracks of red reaching for the shrunken pupil.

Madison refrained from the overwhelming urge to recoil at the acrid smell of his breath. The last thing she wanted to do was offend this creep. She looked at the girl again, taking in the leopard print bruises camouflaging her arms. "Seventeen," she breathed faintly.

"Sam," the man snapped. Madison jumped. "Get Jase so he can have a look." He didn't take his eyes off her as the angelic man left the room.

"Where am I?" Madison stammered. "What's going on?"

The man in front of her smiled, disregarding her questions, and retreated to his armchair. The other one, Sam, returned and a moment later, in strolled a topless man with dark curly hair. Madison recognised him immediately, her eyes glossing over muscular arms and claw marks across the dips and ripples of his back. He turned around. She hadn't seen the tattoos before, a tiger on his left forearm and a mean-looking skull with a snake wrapped around it on his abs. Across his chest were thorns coming in from his shoulders, a heart with a blade through it in the middle. On his right bicep was a skeletal grim reaper. He lit the cigarette between his lips, assessing her with a wolfish squint through a wisp of smoke. There was no sign in his expression but she knew he recognised her, she was still in uniform.

"Isn't she beautiful, Jase?" the man in the armchair said. 'Jase' stood above her, blowing smoke off to the side.

Twenty Marlborough

He slipped his free hand into the pocket of the joggers slung low on his waist. Every movement was sluggish yet deliberate. He wanted her to feel his presence and understand that this situation wasn't foreign to him.