From the fear I should feel around him. From what he is.
The man scoffs, “I suppose nothing is free, not even from-“
“Friends.” Nine interrupts in a mocking tone, leaving my side as he heads for the back wall, his eyes barely flicking over the whimpering… moaning gaggle of women there. Ones with cuts and lacerations deep enough to cause their blood to pool at their feet in a collective puddle. His hand hovers over the emergency release button for the door.
“You must be new to this if you don’t know that will only respond to me. We haven’t even had a proper discussion yet. I get this one, and the blonde for information, I understand it?”
My skin chills as he lingers closer, my eyes glued to the floor.
Don’t touch me.
Or touch him before he can touch you… that way it’s your choice. You made the first move but Nine said… he said not to let them-
A mechanical whirl sounds and the already dimly lit room darkens further, the air ventilation cutting off abruptly.
“What the hell are you doing?” The man spits, “These intimidation games are unnecessary.”
“I shut it down.” Nine answers casually, still not facing the man.
“Shut what-“
“The room. Now that door opens for nobody, not unless I want it to.” When Nine looks back, his hair shifts, revealing the number on his forehead. Not even the red lighting in the room can hide. The ink painted walls look free from borders like you could walk forever and never see the end. The man tenses, but to his credit… barely. I’m sure that says a lot about him.
“Let’s cut the bullshit, chances are friends or not… you’re not letting me leave this room.” He sighs, my own body locking up as his hand reaches around, gripping my ass tightly. I stumble back, tripping over my own feet before falling hard against the mirrored wall.
Everything in the room stills, the women quiet. Nine moved so fast I hadn’t even seen it, not sure whatiteven is, but Nine now towers over the groaning man, his body scrawled out on the sticky floor from the force of whatever was to him.
The man’s head lolls backwards, knocking against the floor roughly before Nine lifts him up, just enough to be face to face when he’s bent. My lips part when Nine points at me, where I still sit on the floor like an idiot. He’s whispering something I can’t hear in the man’s ear as I scramble up. I don’t bother myself being embarrassed by how unsexy it looked. My mind focused on the two in front of me and my own sticky, damp flesh. Trying and failing to frantically wipe whatever got on me off. My umber eyes meet glacier blue ones as I straighten my lingerie. The hair I braided drapes over my shoulder, the thick braid falling between my breasts until I shift it away.
The next sound that fills the room is a brief scuffle of fists and feet, followed by the echoing clamp of restraints. My own legs and wrists throb in response, the memory of Nine and his surgical room coming to mind. Even the women are still deadly silent. Watching everything unfold like they’re viewing it from a screen. Their excuse? Most of them are either supremely brainwashed and higher than high on Arizide Mist and the others are just too scared to move.
My excuse?
I don’t care for the man or the fate he’s about to meet. I suppose they wouldn’t either. It’s easy to take a backseat listening to Nine brutalize the man chained next to his victims. Especially when you see him as something barely human, a bad person… worse than you. Even if it’s only kind of true. Nine hasn’t even asked him a question yet. I’m not sure how long passes like that. I turn away when Nine retrieves atoyfrom the wall and chucks of flesh hit the floor with wet slapping sounds. The bigger the chunk, the louder the plop. I flinch at each. The man’s screams pitched higher and higher. Until I can’t tell if it's him or the girls have reanimated.
I peek over my shoulder when Nine finally speaks. “You see this right here?” He asks slapping his own forehead, blood staining the strands of his opalescent hair, “Let’s do a little math, shall we?”
The man’s throat bobs like he’s trying to work something down. My own does the same as I get my first real look at what Nine has done. The man loses the fight before I do, sputtering vomit down his chest into wounds unlike anything I’ve seen before.
“Rager! That was pretty fucking disgusting.” Nine chastises him, dipping the tip of the crop he’s holding into the vomit and blood. My hands fly to my mouth as he lifts the tip to Rager’s mouth, “Say ahhh…”
Mouth not lips… I’m assuming those are somewhere on the floor.
He opens up, letting Nine spoon it into his mouth. Above I’m going to be sick. After a few morecropfulsof vomit, Rager gags again.
“Okay, enough snack time. What’s this number on my head?” Nine asks, his voice chillingly unmoved by the scene in front of him. He’s chipper almost.
“Nine.” Rager responds his words deluded, lacking dictation.
“Good job!” Nine beams, “And what is nine plus one?”
Ten.I answer in my head before I can stop myself.
Don’t play along, you freak.
He answers seconds after I did. Nine claps making the room collectively flinch, towering back to his own height, “Come on ladies, give your master a round of applause!”
The girls that can do. Some of them even seeming excited by the inclusion. They're shaking, bloody hands clapping feverishly. My hands remain over my mouth, warding away my own sick.