Death’s New Pet: Love after Life

Awful sniggers ring through the room after my husband makes a distasteful joke about the paleness of my skin. His rough grip sinks into the soft fleshy part of my thighs, and the pain takes a moment to kick in. My head rocks to the left and then right. I blink rapidly and finally recognise that I’m in the drawing room, sprawled across the table for all my husband’s men to leer at. I’m not sure what I’m wearing, and I can’t even lift my head to check. It’s only when someone walks past my face that I feel a brush of wind against my tongue, so I assume it’s hanging out of my mouth. It’s too dry and I long for water.

As if on cue, a glass of water comes into vision. With all my strength, I try to pluck up the energy to reach for the cup in someone’s hands. I play out all the actions in my head. Sitting up, moving my arm, clasping my fingers around the glass, bringing it to my lips, tilting, and making myself swallow. I know exactly what I must do, and yet nothing happens.

My vision blurs as I fade in and out of consciousness. Before I can bring myself back to reality, the roar of laughter that fills the room does it for me. A sharp pain in my arms has them falling back down onto my stomach.

Leonardo’s ugly face swarms my view. To make matters worse, he slaps me twice on my cheek, causing an awful ringing noise to shoot through my head. My jaw twitches as I bring it side to side to check whether he’s broken it. It moves without too much of a problem.

Thank God.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t’ she?” Leonardo’s voice now pierces through the high-pitched shriek of my brain being rattled from the hit. “You did well with this one.”

“You should have seen her ten years ago,” my husband whistles. “Why must they grow up?”

My head falls to the side, and I can just about see Leonardo in an armchair, clutching his whisky. His huge mohawk is stained red from a fresh kill. I can’t even find the fear within me, just numbness. My whole body screams in pain but there is nothing I can do about it. When he notices my gaze on him, he grins wider. “Morning, princess! You seem to be coming around nicely.”

“W-wha —”

“Hush now, little deer.” My husband violently slams a finger to my lips. It catches my teeth and makes them throb. “We are not done with you yet. Go back to sleep.”

“Please—” My voice is nothing more than a pleading mess and I instantly hate myself for it. There is nothing I hate more than the sound of me begging for mercy, especially under his hands.

“Want another?” Leonardo taunts. He holds up a little white pill and I unwillingly lick my lips.

‘No. Don’t let him drug you. Fight him!’ Reason screams at me to protect myself from more harm but it’s futile. Turning my head away from the sight does nothing and he quickly moves it to my lips. Again, I throw my head in the opposite direction, my strength slowly seeping back into my body as the previous drug wears off.

I push Leonardo away, smacking the pill to the floor, but before I can drag my legs off the table, five pairs of hands grip me, forcing me back down. A horrifying and twisted scream leaves my lips, drowning the atmosphere in my terror. The wretched hands belong to faceless men who wear red masks with green-painted facial features. They touch me in all the places I don’t want them to.

“Let go of me!” The tears pour freely now down my face as I choke on my pleads. I feel so fucking useless and helpless. I refuse to cry in their presence. It’s my biggest rule— show no fear and never beg for mercy. But here I am, utterly exhausted, in agony, and utterly terrified. I want to scream the house down.

“You fucking bitch!” Leonardo’s hand strikes me across the face again, sending my head snapping to the left. The sting stuns me. He takes the opportunity to force the pill into my mouth, sticking his fat fucking fingers down my throat to force the pill down. Then, he reaches for the glass of water and pours the whole thing on my face. I splutter and cry out in horror but it’s too late, that single motion forces the little pill back into my system. All my fight and anger melt into numbness as that familiar feeling of helplessness takes hold of me.

And then suddenly the room drops in temperature and the chill assaults my shivering body as I slowly drift into unconsciousness. However, just before my eyes flutter shut, I feel another person enter the room. No, not a person. A Being. And a very fucking bad one at that.

Suddenly, Death leers over everybody, baring his huge fangs and bleeding eyes. He holds his hands out and sucks the energy from the room until even I find myself choking to death. I scream and scream for help but it’s no use. Absolute terror makes my lungs throb but suddenly, I’m no longer dying, but I feel an enormous sense of power thrash through my body. And without warning, I’m no longer tied to the bed, but I’m free.

My hand shoots out and I grab Leonardo by the shirt. His eyes momentarily flare with fear, and I soak it all up. However, before I can do anything else, my entire body seizes up. The pill storms through my body and forces me back into submission.

Spluttering awake, I shoot upwards and scratch at my throat. It’s almost as if I can physically feel the pill travelling down. My body unwillingly collapses to my knees in horror, but I fall a measly foot from the make-shift bed I’ve been given. A strangled noise escapes my lips and I fall forward, back arched, and heave. Anything to get the vicious sensation from my throat.

It takes me a few minutes to calm down, and even when my breathing grows less erratic, the fear still haunts me. Trembling as my cheeks are soaked with tears, I bring my shaky hand to wipe them away. Instinct forces me to hide them as though I’ll be punished for showing this emotion.

Though I’ve been free from Maximo and his gang of assholes for six months now, he still visits me every night. I feel just as frightened as I did when I was enslaved there.

But that was the first time Death had visited. Why the fuck has my brain brought him into my fucked-up memory?

A dim beam of light from the ceiling pulls me back into reality. I try my anxiety-reducing techniques to calm the racing thoughts. Five things you can see. My head snaps left and right as I take in the room again, but it quickly becomes apparent this exercise is going to be useless. The only things in this barren, beige-coloured room are a small wardrobe that I haven’t dared to look into yet, and a thin, plastic mat on the floor that I’ve been using as a bed. It’s boiling in here which doesn’t help the sweat which clings to my body and the dehydration grows too much. Beneath the pillow, I feel the little white pill from the lady I killed on the bus. It burns and pleads for me to taste it.

Just take a little bit to help you sleep, my dear.

My mouth salivates and I suppress the yawn that rocks through me. It would be so easy to slip it into my system and knock myself out for the night. I need it, right? I need the energy to make it through the trials. And yet, reason prevails.

Unconscious around mythical creatures that can flash in and out without warning? No thanks!

As though I don’t trust myself near the pill any more, I leave the safety of my room and peer into the communal area. Much to my delight, nobody is awake yet and I have the whole room to myself. I stare at the cupboard which now has eight names plastered onto it.

Prey One, Prey Two, Prey Three, Prey Four, Prey Six, Prey Seven, Prey Eight, Prey Ten.

Prey Five and Nine are dead. This thought should fill me with more horror than relief, yet it does the opposite. I find some fucked-up comfort in knowing there are only seven more people between me and my revenge.

I grab my cup and fill it with the boiling water. Part of me wants to wait for it to cool down but the other half it’s too thirsty and after a couple of blows, I start to gulp down the water. It burns my throat but in a delicious stinging way that grounds me out of my nightmares.

“Can’t sleep?” A voice startles me from my loneliness. Horrified, I turn to face Prey Three who leans cockily on the granite counter on the other side of the kitchen.

“How? What? How are you so quiet?”

“I learnt to be quiet growing up, I guess,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Anyways, back to you. Do you scream the house down every night or is it just since you’ve come here?”

“What?” My cheeks flush red and my thoughts race frantically around in my head, trying to figure out how I should play this conversation.

“You sounded terrified. I thought you were being murdered so I tried to get into your room but there must be some type of spell preventing us into other contestants’ rooms. You didn’t hear me yelling for you?” His eyes bare into mine in such an intense way that it has me stiff and uneasy. What is this guy’s problem? Why is he so hell-bent on trying to help me?

“I can handle myself,” I say quietly before turning my attention back to the hot water.

“I saw.”

A long silence drifts between us, it’s tense and miserable. I refuse to be the one to break it. I want him to go away and let me enjoy my scalding water in peace.

Not sensing this, he takes control of the conversation. “Have you decided on what your deal with the devil is going to be if you win?”

I don’t know why it rubs me up the wrong way. “You mean when I win.”

His eyes light up with humour, “Sure. Tell me about it.”

“I will get revenge against a very bad man.”

“Your dad?” he assumes.

I shake my head slowly. “My husband.”

“Husband?” he flinches and visibly recoils. “You’re married? But you’re so young? What are you twenty-two?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I have time—”

“No,” I suddenly spit, “Stop trying to be my friend! We are enemies. We are competing against each other.”

His hands jump up defensively, and he looks genuinely hurt. “Woah, woah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just trying—” he visibly tips over his words as he fumbles around. “I mean, I guess I just wanted to make one last friend before I die here.”

Pathetic.

My eyes home in on him. Everything within me searches for some sinister act to be glistening around his eyes, or some perverse double meaning in his words, but I can’t seem to find anything. Prey Three stares at me, his lips slightly parted, and cheeks flushed in humiliation.

Reluctantly, I realise he might be telling the truth.

Fuck sake.

“I mean, come on,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear it. “I barely made it through that last trial. It was only the luck of the timer that stopped the beast from crushing my head with his arm. I thought I was a goner.”

“You made it through so clearly you did something right.” I don’t know why I try and reassure a stranger, but there is something vulnerable in his behaviour, something stained with pain, something so alike a child I once knew—

“Barely.”

“You fought Prey One well too.” I point out again. His head cocks to the side and a small smile licks his lips. “That was different. Humans are easy targets.”

And with that one sentence alone, I’m instantly reminded of why he is here. He murdered a flat of people. He’s evil. He has sinned. He’s now being punished.

“Don’t look so judgmental, killer,” he gently pushes my shoulder in a friendly way, but I’m left staring at the place where he touched. I’m still wearing yesterday’s-stained clothes, too afraid to dig down the wardrobe or shower in the room opposite the kitchen. Who knows what will happen when I’m naked and alone? With all the flashing of people in and out—

The trauma in my heart burns as memories resurface. My breath hitches in my chest and my eyes sting. As per usual, the familiar pull of withdrawal and my PTSD consumes me.

“Woah there, girl,” I hear his voice as faint as a whisper. “You okay? What’s happening?”

My whole body stumbles left and then right as my vision blurs. Nausea rises in my chest and no matter how much I try to swallow it down, my body refuses to get rid of the bile. My traitorous body plunges me back into a fucked-up nightmare as though I’m still dreaming.

“Touch her there, she hates it.” Leonardo’s voice vibrates through my mind, much to my desperate attempts to block him out. I grab my head as though that’s going to help, and I feel the burning of my skin.

“Prey Ten,” I hear his voice in the distance, desperate and worried. “What should I do? Are you okay? Should I get help—”

“No!”

Desperately, I put distance between us, stumbling back towards my room, but it’s futile and I fall to my knees. The quick movement only makes me that much dizzier, and I cry out as everything becomes too much. And then, suddenly, arms are wrapped around me. I try to fight but with all the distortion, I’m far too weak to protect myself.

“Prey Ten,” he tries again. “It’s okay. I’m here. Deep breaths, okay? Do it with me now.” He sharply inhales and his body expands around me.

“Fuck, I love it like that. When her arms are tied up and her legs sprea—’ another voice shrieks in my mind.

Without thinking, my arms snap around Prey Three and I desperately squeeze, looking for anything to keep me grounded in reality. Leonardo and Maximo’s awful words desperately try to pull me back into the nightmare, but I fight harder.

I feel Prey Three’s body grow and constrict with every breath and I focus on it. With all my might, I try to copy his breathing, but it takes a lot longer than I want. I feel his hand run shapes down my back and I should be mortified by another man touching me, but it oddly soothes me. He holds me firmly; I nuzzle my head into his shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut as the nightmares still swarm my mind. I never had a brother, but I read about them in stories. The word jumps into my mind when he embraces me.

“Breathe, Prey Ten.” He strokes my hair, “Breathe, Carolina, breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

Carolina?

My eyes snap open and I try to pull back from the embrace, but his arms are tightly wrapped around me. His whole body is stiff as though reliving his own torment. My breaths are hard and shallow, but at least they are stable now, I don’t pull away too quickly. It feels as though centuries go by before his heartbeat stops pounding against my chest and I feel him loosen up his grip around me. We use each other for strength in the oddest way I’ve ever experienced. He still smells of fire too. The smell is oddly grounding. For the first time in my whole life, I feel at ease in another person’s arms and make no effort to pull away.

He finally breaks the silence. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

His voice is small, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened there.”

I expect it to be awkward as he pulls away from me, but it feels as though we’ve known each other for a long time and not complete strangers a day ago. Nonetheless, something has changed. He no longer wears that goofy smile on his face. Instead, his eyes are wide, sad, and misty as though he is going to cry. He looks at me, but I know he doesn’t see me, he is thinking of someone else.

The question is on my tongue: who is Carolina? The noisiness within me longs to find it out, but reason keeps my lips sealed shut. I already feel something less than tolerance for this man, and I really don’t want to mourn his death when I eventually claim my reward for winning. Something in his eyes shifts, as though he is realising the same thing.

“I hope you sleep better, Prey Ten.” There is pain laced in his voice as he stumbles closer to his room. And then, he disappears without so much as another word, and I’m left, sweat clinging to me, and confusion swarming my stomach.

And unfortunately, I’m not strong enough to resist the sweet calling of that little pill under my pillow. It pulls me into a deep sleep, and I’m finally given some solace in this nightmarish life.