Page 56 of Contention

There’s a long pause as X stares at the floor, as if remembering something. “One of those hosts told me, a woman. She told me it wouldn’t cost me anything, if I was looking for true suffering. She knew of a place called The Room. I don’t know her name or face, so don’t bother asking.”

Trying to pull the conversation back to the case, Derrick asks her about the opposition, to see if there is a connection. “Are you aware of a man named Max Dotaire?”

There’s that slow, lizard-like blink. Then X frowns. “I’ve heard the name. But. Only at theDark Mirage. Not at The Room. He’s one of the gentlemen that works on level forty-one.” She shrugs in slow motion. “A Dom, one who plays a bit rough. Nothing too shocking in my opinion. He was popular, or so I heard. I never engaged with him there. He was pricey and I couldn’t afford his attention.”

Kara frowns at that. This was almost beginning to sound like a dead end. “Was he ever at The Room?”

A sigh. “I really couldn’t say. I don’t know his voice. I had sensory deprivation goggles on the whole time I was there; I couldn’t see anyone. I could only feel what they did to me.” X shudders in a manner that looks like she’s sinking into herself, shriveling into nothing. “I doubt he was involved. I don’t think anyone who works at the club engages with The Room. It’s a well-kept secret. Perhaps the woman who referred me is the type that looks for those who are vulnerable and refers them to The Room. Perhaps she gets a commission of sorts.”

Derrick has his brow furrowed, thinking through the information. “Tell me about the NDA you signed. Also, the sum of money that appeared in your account.”

“When I started going to the second level regularly, I signed it. I was told to not talk about the things that happened in the club. I really haven’t broken that…but The Room isn’t part of the club, so I don’t think it extends. The money? It appeared oddly when I got back from The Room. When I was set loose. I never questioned where it came from. I spent it all on heroin and meth to try and forget.”

Unease snaps into place and Kara gives Derrick a glance; it’s hard to work with info from a drug addict, especially one like this. What are they doing here?! “Tell us about The Room, then,” Derrick says coolly. “I want to know how it’s connected to the club. Where is it? Do you have an address?”

X shakes her head. “No idea where it is, but I’m sure someone pays the taxes on the space. On the night I was to go to The Room, I was given instructions from a burner phone number, to wait blindfolded in the park, where I would be picked up.” She sighs long and slow. “I never saw the place. But it smelled like chemicals. Dust. Rot and blood, hidden under cleaning supplies. The floor was sticky on my knees. My hands were handcuffed behind my back and the goggles they put on me blocked everything else.”

“What happened, X?”

Her fingers scrabbled at one of her scabs, causing it to bleed, red streaming down her arm. X doesn’t seem to notice. “They tortured me. And, I don’t mean like a BDSM dungeon. I mean torture, like a horror movie. For days on end I was there, suffering, begging to go home. Every day, after they were through doing whatever depravity they had in their minds, they would ask me, ‘Do you still want to be here?’” She gives a harsh, freaky little laugh.

Kara can’t look away from her, even though the more the woman talks, the more Kara wants to bolt out the front door. This sounds…like a crime. Like something far worse than they imagined. At least her boss is keeping his cool in the face of this. Derrick gives X that calm look that always soothes people, like he is completely empathizing with them and knows all their troubles in life. “What did you say to them?”

Her sallow skin is sickly and her oily hair falls over her face. “I said, ‘no’. It went so far beyond what I had imagined. I wanted to disappear, not to feel my body every waking moment, to feel the burn and sting of agonies. My soul wanted to leave, but they were anchoring it with pain to my flesh.”

There are scabs on her arms that she won’t leave alone, some looking infected, as if she has been ripping at them for far too long, neglecting to care. Kara feels the distinct urge to shower.

“They branded me; I could smell my flesh burning. It’s an odd smell, you can’t get it out of your head. Especially not when you’re already hungry.” X blinks again, staring hard at a cockroach crawling across her floor. “My fingernails, one by one. My toenails, gone. They never grew back normal again, actually. Every time I look at them, I remember the needles going under my nails, or the way it felt to have them torn off. God, I’ve never screamed like I did when I was there. I nearly lost my voice, once. They weren’t too pleased with that, they said they needed the screams. Silence is bad for business, apparently.”

Kara tries to keep the utter horror off her face, vaguely feels her stomach turning. She’s going to vomit, but she holds it in, swallows the bile crawling up onto her tongue. Her fingers and toes ache with a phantom pain, in sympathy as her mind runs wild.

“Sometimes, they used me. Frankly, I found that to be tame compared to the physical tortures. I’d be handcuffed to a wall, naked, all the time, and someone would just come in. Eventually, I became numb to it.”

“One day,” X continues with a dull tone, “I finally said, ‘yes’. That I wanted to be there. I’d finally hit the end, I think. My mind had left with the tattered remains of my body. Suddenly, I had become this cut up blob of flesh. I was gone. I wasn’t me. They had remade me.” She frowns. “After I said yes, they let me go. I was…disappointed. I thought they would truly end it if I said yes.”

Derrick is trying to hide his revulsion, Kara can tell. He’s a little pale and his jaw is tight, bothered. “Do you think Paxton Brooker is aware of this place? Or Max Dotaire?”

“Perhaps Max knows of it, perhaps not. I couldn’t say. Paxton owns theDark Mirage; I imagine he has to have some idea of The Room.” Her shoulders do a strange shrug. “The sessions were video-taped, I can remember hearing people talk about setting up the tri-pods. They would turn on heavy metal songs and blast them for hours, along with scream tracks when I lost my voice. I imagine clips of me were sold on the dark web. There are those who pay to watch people be tortured, you know. Very lucrative. What happened to me wasn’t exactly personal…it was business.”

Derrick looks floored, absolutely floored. “Theyfilmedit?”

She nods. “Yes. You likely won’t find any proof though. That’s expensive material, that is. Snuff and torture films are risky to make, as I’m sure you understand. Most people die, but this group seems to stick with drawn out torture. They let people leave afterwards, from what I understand. No killing, so long as you never see their faces. I never did.”

Holy shit.

They are going to have to tell the police, Kara knows it, Derrick surely knows it. This is far beyond anything they imagined.

X bites at one of her fingertips, frowning. “Is that all? Not sure it was helpful. But I suppose someone should know that there is an underground torture ring with a hook into the club. Not sure any of your perps are responsible, but…perhaps they have looked the other way.”

“Would you be able to testify?” Derrick asks carefully.

If X is distraught by the request, there is no emotion on her face to see. “If I must. But I doubt I’m credible. I was a drug addict, once. Still. I’m sure you know how that will go.”

Kara frowns. “Have you ever gone to the cops about what happened to you?”

The other woman gives her a terrifyingly empty look. “I frankly didn’t care if I lived or died by the time I was sent home. Talking to the cops was the last thing on my mind. Iwantedto die and forget that place existed. The folder of money and the drugs helped.”

So, no.

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