Before even thinking about it, I rush toward her with Veronica on my heels, our shoes thumping loudly on the floor, and I reach the woman in record time.
I try to circle my hands around her chest to help her spit whatever is blocking her breathing, but she shakes her head, stumbling farther into the empty hallway, but I follow her anyway, addressing Veronica who is standing next to me. “Please help me with her. She might die from lack of oxygen.” Despite being out of it for almost six months, my natural medical instincts kick in, and I start to count in my head the seconds to make sure we can help her in time.
I move to her again, but she stumbles farther away from me, which makes zero sense. If she is barely holding it together, why is she running away from me?
In all my years of practice, no one ever refused help, instead begging for someone to do something, standing still or shaking so hard I could physically feel their panic.
Does she have some aversion to doctors or what?
I grab her by the sleeve, ready to drag her to me, when she stops choking and instead wraps her hand around mine, pulling me inside a room I haven’t noticed before.
With a loud yelp, I fly into the room and hit my back painfully on one of the walls while the unknown woman enters along with Veronica and two more women I haven’t seen before. “What is this?” I whisper, and Veronica smirks, taking something out of her pocket, and I gasp when I realize it’s a knife.
Everyone else gets out their own weapons, two more knives and a heavy chain along with brass knuckles. How do they even have all these things if all sharp objects are confiscated by the guards before you even enter the prison?
But then again, why does anything shock me at this point, really?
Veronica steps in front, cocking her head to the side as her gaze runs over me before she smirks. “I usually don’t do shit like this on someone’s first day. Too much attention on you as it is.” She flicks her hair back as her eyes framed with the longest eyelashes flutter at me. “But such a high price was paid for you, so… I couldn’t resist.”
A high price?
Who would pay for this…?
A scream tears from my throat when a kick comes to my spine, and only then do I realize one of the women stands behind me. I fall on my knees, holding onto my stomach while fear sinks into every bone in my body. Raising my head to Veronica who looms above me, flipping the knife between her fingers, I beg her with a trembling tone, “Please, don’t do this. I’m—” Whatever I want to say transforms into a groan of pain when she fists my hair, pulling at it so harshly that it seems she is ripping it away from my scalp, while the other two women grab my arms, making it impossible for me to move.
Veronica leans closer, her breath fanning my cheek as she presses the tip of her knife to my chin, digging it in a little. Enough to cause a sting, but not enough to bring any permanent damage. “He paid five million for it.” Her eyes flash in excitement, and she licks her lips, sliding her knife a little to the side, and this time I wince, because the dig is sharper, meeting my jawbone. “Who would hate you so much to pay for this kind of shit? I couldn’t refuse. It will set me up for life once I’m out of here. All of us.”
She winks at her friends as they all mutter, “Hell yeah.”
“Please don’t do this,” I repeat again, even though I know it’s useless.
The way some people think, act, react… so different from us, yet everything they do makes some sense to me, almost making them seem like they’re from another planet.
And all this knowledge acquired in college allows me to understand Veronica will never listen to me, as the money she received for it is too tempting for her.
Greed.
A powerful force in this world that rich people, like Zachary King, use to lure people to do despicable deeds.
“He said he doesn’t care what we do as long as you suffer.” She chuckles, the sound sending chills down my spine for how sinister it is. “As long as we don’t kill you, of course.” She grips my chin hard, her nails scratching my skin, and she forcibly twists my head from side to side, examining it while I pull at my hands, but it is no use. “I think we should start with your face. You are too beautiful for this place. Isn’t she, girls?” Everyone nods, and only then it dawns on me I haven’t tried screaming for help.
So, opening my mouth, I shout, “Somebody, help me!” But it becomes a cry of agony when Veronica slides the knife to my cheek, piercing my skin and slashes my cheek from my jaw to my forehead, the pain so strong for a second I forget to breathe while everyone around me laughs. “Here, here. Problem one solved.” She pushes at me, and I feel the blood dripping on the floor, and the choking woman comes closer and delivers a hard blow to my face, one, two, three times, and even though the pain is so strong, I still twist my hands, wanting to run away, because I can handle them disfiguring me.
My beauty has no meaning for me anyway. But I can’t allow them to hurt other parts of my body.
“Please,” I whisper, barely able to move my jaw from their assault, but they once again laugh, holding me in their hands while the woman continues to hit me until Veronica nudges her and stands in front of me again.
“Well, it finally reminds me of a giant bruise. You look more like us, darling. You can thank me later.” She clicks her fingers. “Pearl, come here with the chain. Let’s see your work.” Then she addresses another woman. “Mercy, guard the door with me. She might scream louder now. He paid off the guard surveilling this area, but we can’t risk anyone coming in here.”
My God.
How much does the man hate me in order to bribe anyone in this prison to bring me misery?
Or maybe I’m asking the wrong question.
Is it possible for a man to love a woman so much he is ready to almost kill another woman to punish her for her death?
How heartless or brokenhearted do you have to be?
Reality doesn’t let me dwell on this philosophical question much though, when Pearl swings the chain back and forth in front of me, and I gasp when she wraps it around her fists, ordering to two other women, “Get her up.” They do, even though I press down, too afraid to move in fear of greater punishment, and in this position I can protect my stomach before help comes.
Someone must stroll through this hallway, right? Some not-paid guard who cares about the well-being of the inmates, even if the majority of these people are considered nothing but dirt under the nails of society.
Forcibly, they raise me up, and that’s when the first blow comes. The sharp edge of the chain connects with my front, surely leaving an imprint and spreading instant agony through me, the pain traveling so fast it’s a wonder I don’t pass out from shock. “No!” I scream, but she only hits again, while I try to turn away from her to present my back instead, not my stomach.
Please, God, please. Not my stomach.
“I haven’t had this much fun since the last time I killed someone,” Pearl says, wrapping the chain around my neck and connecting the end, depriving me of oxygen for a second while smiling brightly. “God, how I missed this.”
Veronica calls from the door, her tone laced with steel. “Don’t forget yourself. He paid for the pain, not for her death. Not to mention, I don’t want to spend more time in this hellhole.”