Page 39 of Barbi and the Villain

I feel for you, buddy.

“Can I speak with someone, please? Someone higher, preferably?” I stop myself short of asking to speak with the manager. Gosh, am I becoming a Karen? But I suppose these are completely different circumstances. I’m not complaining about a perfectly rendered service, nor am I calling the cops about the kids loitering around the neighborhood. I am merely asking for some human decency, although I doubt that’s a concern here.

Akkaya has no human rights council, though I now see it is in dire need of one. Take my mummy friend for example—not that he’s my friend, but he’s the only one around. He’s been left to rot here. In my world, that constitutes about a hundred human rights violations.

My voice echoes in the dungeon, but there is no reply forthcoming.

Why is everyone ignoring me today?

“Someone? Anyone? I would like a glass of water, please,” I call out. No response. “In case you haven’t heard, I am to be executed on the new moon. I doubt your mighty King will like it if I’m dehydrated and weak. What’s the joy in killing someone who’s already down, no?” I ask hopefully. Executions are supposed to be a spectacle (not that I want to die anytime soon).

The light flickers and comes closer and closer.

My lips slowly spread into a smile as I dab at the errant tears falling down my cheeks. Maybe someone heard my plea.

I blink repeatedly, shielding my eyes as the source of light stops right in front of my cell. But as my eyes get accustomed to the light, I realize that I might be in more trouble than before.

Ivan looks down at me with malice in his eyes.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” He laughs at me.

I yelp as he gives me a kick, falling to my ass a distance away from the bars. He opens the lock and enters the cell. He’s carrying with him a torch that lights up the entire room.

“I’m surprised you’re still so cheery after spending the night with this freak,” he sneers. Right at that moment, I gaze back as the torch lights up even the darkest corners of the cell.

My mouth parts in an O as I stare at my cellmate. His long, dark hair is draped over his face, reaching his waist. I cannot make out his features, but it’s clear he’s not a mummy. He’s not in the best shape, that’s for sure, but he’s human and alive. His skin has a sickly hue, an ashy brown color. His body is big and broad, his chest just as large as I’d felt with my hands.

My eyes immediately go to his hand, and I note that the ring finger had attached itself to his hand—just as he’d said.

I swallow hard.

There are over a dozen chains keeping him tied to the wall—around his neck, chest, arms, and legs. He is thoroughly immobilized.

A pang of hurt echoes in my chest as I take him in. He can’t even move, can he? But why go to such extremes? Why so many chains when one would have done the job?

As the light shines over him, he turns his head to the side, avoiding looking at Ivan. The nasty man takes a step forward.

“Leave my friend alone,” I burst out before I can stop myself.

He turns to me, a sick smile on his face.

“Friend?” He chuckles at me. “What do you have to say for yourself, freak? You have a pretty young woman in your cell and you can’t even move,” he mocks him, using his foot to kick at the man’s leg. The chains rattle, but his leg doesn’t move—it is too tightly secured. “Can your cock even get hard after so long?”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment at his crass words, and I scurry backward.

Ivan moves his torch back and forth over the man’s body, stopping above his crotch.

“Why don’t we put it to the test.” He guffaws as he flings the torch.

My eyes widen as I realize what he means to do, and before I know it, I throw myself against him, kicking him off balance and causing him to miss. But instead of helping the poor man, I make everything worse.

My breath hitches as I see the torch fall on his chest, the fire engulfing his hair. The scraps of material on his body catch fire, spreading further and burning his skin.

“No,” I whisper in shock.

Ivan laughs maliciously as he admires his handiwork.

The fire engulfs the man, but he doesn’t make a sound. Not one whisper of pain. He bears it all in silence, letting the flames lick at his body.

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