Page 29 of DeLuca: The Devil

He grins, “We’ll see about that. Now be a good pet and eat your food. You’re going to need your strength for what comes next.”

Enzo walks back up the stairs and I hear a female voice, “You should eat.”

Quickly, I turn toward the sound and spot three other cages, all with women in them.

“Do you know what comes next?” I ask the woman who spoke to me.

“We fight to the death.”

I gasp, “What?”

She nods, “I’ve killed the first two I fought. It’s kill or be killed. It isn’t personal. So, you should eat the dog food to at least give yourself a fighting chance.”

I glance at the bowl of dog food in my cage then back at her, “I’ll be fighting you?”

The blonde shrugs, “No idea. It could be me or one of the others.”

Folding my arms over my chest, I shake my head, “I’ll refuse.”

She glances at me sympathetically, “Then you’ll die.”

I pick up a piece of the dog food and sniff it. It smells disgusting.

“It goes down easier if you plug your nose.”

They may have called Domenic the devil, but he never would’ve done this to me. More tears fall as I pop a piece of dog food in my mouth, plug my nose, and chew slowly. No human being should ever be treated like this, so inhumanely. I finish the dog food which turns my stomach. I lift the bowl of water to my lips and drink when I hear footsteps on the floor.

“Drink it, like the dog you are.”

I glance up to see Enzo with my father. The shock on my face must be obvious. I shouldn’t even be surprised that he’d have a hand in this, but I am.

“What?”

“Drink it like the dog you are or the only thing you’ll have to drink is your piss.”

I set the bowl down and lower my head, and lap at the water like a fucking dog. For a moment, I wanted to win my fight. I wanted to live long enough to get out of this hellhole. But now I’m not so sure. Death would be better than living like this, for however long it takes to get free if I ever do.

“It’s time for our entertainment portion of the evening!” Enzo says as he rubs his hands together in excitement.

He opens my cage, unlocks the chain attached to the collar around my throat, and pulls me out by my hair.

My father unlocks one of the other cages holding a frail brunette. She’s so thin. I don’t think she could be more than ninety pounds.

We’re both pulled up the stairs by our hair, to the third floor, where a cage is set up in what appears to be a large living room. Enzo pushes me into the massive cage, and my father pushes the other girl in.

“You fight to the death. Only one of you lives. Good luck,” Enzo says with a satisfied grin.

The tiny girl stares at me with pleading eyes, “Please make it quick. I’m ready to die.”

“How long have you been here?”

She shrugs, “Months. Years. I don’t know. So long.”

“Enough chitter chatter. This isn’t Maury-Fucking-Povich.”

I approach her, “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

My first punch to her jaw sends her flying to the floor, her head hits the wood floor with a thunk, and blood pools around her. Enzo rushes in, checks her pulse, “I’m disappointed, Whore. You got lucky. Next time, you fight someone tougher.”

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