Page 17 of Torment

“You’re from the Path of the Covenant, aren’t you?” I choked out through gritted teeth. The masked man was currently sliding the tiny black chip from the container into the hole he’d cut in my back.

He didn’t reply. He simply picked up the needle and thread and started stitching me shut.

“Answer me,” I said, wincing as he poked me with the needle. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “I’m not going to fall for that, pretty girl,” he muttered. Apparently, that was my new nickname. Pretty girl. “Now shut the fuck up and let me concentrate.”

I went quiet, but within moments, I felt like I was going to burst. I needed to know something about my situation. Anything.

“Just tell me where I am!” I pleaded.

“Okay,” the man said, finishing up my stitches. He placed a dressing over the top, and then he stood up. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

“For what?”

He didn’t reply. He simply went and pressed a button on the wall, close to where I’d surmised the keypad was. With that, the thick curtains surrounding me began to open.

I was immediately struck with black horror. The room was bordered by thick glass on all four sides, but they weren’t windows. Not in the traditional sense. Part of one wall was a large mirror, but the rest…

“What is this?” I croaked, barely able to speak with all the thick terror clawing at my throat.

I was surrounded by murky greenish-brown water. Reeds, mud, fish, and snaking tree roots filled my vision. I closed my eyes, hoping I would wake up and realize this had all been a terrible nightmare.

“It’s an aquarium of sorts, only the water is on the outside,” the man said, his voice dead calm. “You’re like a pet. Except most people actually like and care for their pets.”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “How is this possible?”

He went and tapped on the glass. “Don’t worry. This is impenetrable. Custom-built.” He turned and looked toward me again. “You’re at the bottom of the lake next to my house. I hope that’s not an issue for you.”

Whoever this man was, he was evil to the core. He obviously knew me, and he knew what this would do to me. Behind that mask, he was undoubtedly grinning from ear to ear.

It felt like there was a hurricane inside me, spinning every cell into a panic. An invisible hand over my mouth, stifling my breath. A deluge of ice cold water flooding through every blood vessel. My eyes were wide and wild, and my legs and arms shook so much that the chair started rocking. My mind was on overdrive, a whirlwind of fears spinning out of control, pushing me into blackness.

I was having a severe panic attack. In the years since my rescue from New Eden, I’d become severely claustrophobic. Being held in a sunken room was an absolute trigger for me. It sent me hurtling back to all the years I spent as a cult slave, trapped in an underground shelter and surrounded by nothing but dirt.

“Close them,” I begged. “Please!”

“I think I’ll leave them open for now,” the man replied.

“No!”

He slapped me across the face, hard. “Shut the fuck up and listen, you little whore.”

Somehow, the stinging slap quelled my panic. As if the shock made it fly right out of me. I gulped and looked up at the man, trying to ignore my awful watery surroundings.

“Let me explain a few things,” he said. “At the top of the steps behind the bars, there’s a passageway leading up to a door. That door—along with these bars—functions electronically. You can’t open it without a code. A code which you will never know.”

“I’m guessing the door leads right into the house,” I said softly, trying to imagine I was there instead. Safe, warm, cozy. Eating off real plates with cutlery. Buddy by my side, swimming in his aquarium.

Aquarium…oh, god. I felt lightheaded and panicky all over again.

“Yes, that’s right. Even if you somehow managed to knock me down and run out the door while I’m down here, you wouldn’t get much farther than the house. That microchip I just put in you is a tracking device, so I’ll always be able to find you, no matter where you get to.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked for what must’ve been the fifth or sixth time.

He didn’t answer. Instead he turned and started packing things into the bag and container, including the scalpel, which was still slick with my blood. The sight and smell of it made me retch.

When he was done, he untied me from the chair and shoved me down onto the mattress. It didn’t provide much respite against the cold concrete floor, but I didn’t care. All I cared about now was what I’d just been told—that this terrible place was wholly inescapable.

I would remain here as long as my captor wanted me, and considering how much effort and money he—or they, if there were others responsible for my capture—had expended on building this torturous underwater room, he intended on keeping me for a very long time. Most likely forever.

I would probably never see my pet again, or any of my friends or neighbors.

Suddenly, the thought of Mr. Bennett’s passive aggressive Wi-Fi notes tacked to the bulletin board in my building foyer seemed like heaven. I’d give anything to be back there, rolling my eyes in irritation.

I’d give anything for that to be my biggest problem again.

The man closed the bars, separating us, and then he chuckled and turned away with four parting words.

“Welcome to hell, baby.”

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