Page 131 of Corrupt Game

Sergi stalked into the room, accompanied by two men. They yanked open my cage and dragged me out. Even if they had asked me to get out of the cage, I couldn’t have really moved on my own. It was weird to welcome the help from the people who might be hurting me.

Sergi was seething, as a light of hope flared inside of me. Maybe Edmond Kelly had accepted a ransom offer? He wouldn’t be mad unless he‘d been told no somehow.

Something hadn’t gone right, and my body was about to pay the price for that mishap.

I could only hope that he’d gotten over his mental issues. Though that probably wasn’t the case because I was placed on an x cross and chained to it with my back facing out.

Edmond needed to show someone that he was still in charge and what would happen if they didn’t fall in line. I was just going to be the example he used to drive that point home. What was he going to do?

A hose with a forceful stream of water that would have taken my breath away under normal circumstances had me plastered against the cross, gasping for breath.

I swallowed more water than air. I had never considered that I might drown here. There had to be a ten worst ways to die list somewhere.

After I was deemed cleaned up enough, Edmond entered the room. One of the men pushed along a table tray on wheels whose contents I couldn’t see.

“It’s about time that we got to settle the past and work these things out.” Edmond walked to the side of the cross. He waved at me. “Do you have anything you’d like to confess, Collette?”

“No. Why are you doing this?” My voice hitched, still rough with the water.

“Ah, well, confession is good for the soul. So they told me in seminary all those years ago. Make sure she can’t wriggle, boyos; this is going to be some detailed work and I want to be proud of it.”

He sounded jolly in a psycho way.

People clamped down on my shoulder and hips, and I felt cold metal as the back of my shirt was cut so my back was exposed to air.

“To answer your question, Colette, I’m goin’ to be adding some art to your back. The good book is full of wisdom, and I want Ian Holdt to see a verse every time he spreads you out. That is, if he still does when I’m done with you. So I’m going to cut a fine verse into your back, one that’s true to your soul as well. It’s from Proverbs. To quote: ‘A prostitute is a deep pit, and a narrow well, the woman who belongs to another. Yes, like a brigand, she lies in wait, increasing the number of law-breakers.’

“I don’t know if there’s room for the second line, but we’ll find out.” He picked up a scalpel from the tray, adding conversationally, “This is a reminder for your man since he isn’t answering his phone. I’m going to send this to him by text when it’s done so he can admire my work.”

Stinging fire dug into my back as he used the scalpel as a pen. I didn't even try to keep from screaming and crying. Time blurred, and I slipped out of consciousness and then came to with Edmond continuing to write.

The last time I fainted from the pain, I must have stayed unconscious for a longer length of time than the others because when I came to, they were taking me down from the cross.

I didn’t even feel the bumps on the floor as they dragged me down the hallway. My back was on fire.

It hurt so much.

I shifted position, gasping, and my back thumped against the wall of the cage. I let the dark swallow me again without even trying to resist.

~~~

“Psst. They are bringing in the food.” The voice in the cage next to me whispered.

My eyelids were so heavy. I tried to open them. It was so difficult because my back was still screaming in pain. If I could just stay asleep, then I wouldn’t have to feel it. Then I could rest.

Things were very fuzzy. I needed to work through the pain. There had been a few times in my life that I’d had this kind of pain, but I’d always been able to get through it.

The two goons came into the room with trays of food. When the woman in the next cage had mentioned food, I’d been worried that they would serve us something slop style.

A disposable container was shoved through the wire. No utensils joined them, so I could only assume that we were to eat whatever was in the styrofoam with our hands.

Food was food, and I wasn’t about to complain. I had a sneaking suspicion that it would be taken away if there were any complaints made about it.

The lights were still low, but my eyes had adjusted enough that I could see what was in the container.

It was all the leftovers from the kitchen thrown into one dish. One thing that I knew without a doubt was that it would help me heal and keep me from dying. Taste didn’t matter, but survival did.

The goons attached a bottle of water that had to be sucked on to get the liquid flowing like they would put in a hamster cage. Another demeaning tactic.

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