Page 61 of Toy

He shouted some more commands at the gathered people, and most of them scattered. They began to filter back into the square a few minutes later, arms laden with logs, long sticks, and dried grass.

“That should be enough,” I heard one of the men say. “Start building the pyre now.” He turned to my father. “Should we light it as soon as it’s done?”

“Not yet.” My father pressed his lips into a thin line. “We’ll wait for Mr. Ashwood to wake up first, so he can watch his precious girl meet the same fate as his family.”

“And then?”

“Then we do the same to him.” He cocked his head to the right and sighed. “I should’ve just killed him eight years ago. I had no idea he’d wind up being such a thorn in our side.”

“Should I alert the rest of the men?”

My father’s lips curled into a nasty grin. “I already sent someone to the mansion to let everyone know. They should arrive for the show any minute now.”

I swallowed a mouthful of bile as several men worked around me, building an enormous pyre below my feet with all the sticks and dried grass they gathered earlier. A gust of wind suddenly blew through the area and sent some of the grass flying off the edge. One of the men turned and slapped a young woman for not catching it all right away, as if she was supposed to psychically know the breeze was coming.

She gathered up the strewn grass and brought it back over to the pyre. “Please forgive me,” she whispered at me as she dumped it back down, eyes wide and fearful.

I nodded briefly, not wanting to get her in trouble by actually speaking to her. She nodded back. Then she turned and stepped away, hiding her face with her thick mass of dark curls.

Even though I was the one who was about to die, I couldn’t help but feel more pity for her and all the others here. My execution would be agonizing, but at least it would be over by the end of the night. These girls would have to spend their entire lives in suffering here, trapped in this secluded mountain valley with a hundred cruel, inhuman men who would only ever view them as sex slaves to be used and abused every single day.

I swallowed thickly and returned my gaze to Mason. I wanted his face to be the last thing I ever saw. Scarred or not, it was the most beautiful sight I’d ever laid my eyes on. I had no idea how anyone could ever think otherwise.

All of a sudden, one of his legs twitched, and his head moved slightly to the left.

“He’s waking up,” someone called out.

My father smiled. “Good. Light the fire.”

Three men splashed lighter fluid all over the pyre. Another held up a box of matches, lips twisted into a smirk as he stepped forward. My insides felt hollow as a flame flared to life in his fingers a moment later.

“Wait.” My father held up a hand. “I think I’ll do it myself this time.”

The man looked disappointed, but he handed the lit match over anyway, obviously knowing better than to defy his leader. My father tossed it forward and watched with a fascinated gaze as orange flames immediately raced up the long sticks below my feet, eager to devour the offering.

The fire flickered and crackled wildly in the breeze as it grew, flaming forked tongues creeping closer and closer to the platform with every passing second. My father stepped back and smiled. “Goodbye, Jolie.”

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