Page 115 of Irreversible

The man I sentenced to death.

My crime soils the tendrils of hope blooming within me, and I know the weight of my guilt will haunt me forever. Even if I make it out of here alive, I’ll never be the same.

Once a choice is made, it cannot be undone.

And that, I fear, is a fate worse than death.

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This damn bag clings to my nose and mouth with every shallow breath. Limiting my oxygen. Stealing my sense of time and place.

The suffocating darkness is just one more reminder of my impending death. Claustrophobia is no joke when your head is covered, and the restraints only make it worse. Vertigo hits, spinning me around until I’m nauseated. Sweat runs down my neck and forehead, gathering beneath the straps on my chest.

It should be noted that hiding in a dumpster before being restrained to a chair with no way to wash off the stench was a terrible idea. Not that one plans for these things.

Combined, it might be enough to break my spirit—were I less enraged.

But I have my hate to keep me alive.

Good thing, too, because I’m about to lose my damn mind. Every minute is an exercise in mental discipline, in restraint, my limbs itching to thrash, desperate to break the bonds. To rip the bag off my head and breathe and breathe…and breathe.

Fuck, I just need some air.

A metal objectclangsagainst the bars, but I don’t jump. Don’t react.

“Hey, you in there. No sleeping. Your buyers will be here soon.” Dolph’s derisive amusement goads me, but I refuse to engage. He’s been taunting incessantly since they tossed me back in this cage, still pissed that I got the best of him a few years ago. Now, he thinks the tables are turned.

There’s one thing he’s forgetting: I’m not dead yet.

I may be bound and virtually helpless now, but if this is to be a game—if I’m to be a challenger—I figure they’ll have to let me loose. Not much sport otherwise.

That’s when things will turn back in my favor.

That’s when I kill them all.

It’s been hours—an endless stretch of anticipation, sitting here alone. All I can do is wait for the next step; the one that brings me closer to my fate.

Prey. That’s what I’m meant to be. A “challenge” for some asshole with so much money and so little empathy, he can’t think of anything better to do with it than use it to purchase the most dangerous adversary of all.

I should be using the time I have left to center myself, to plan. Hell, some would say I should make amends with whatever higher power might be willing to work a miracle on my behalf, but right now, there’s only one thing in my head.

Everly’s goddamned voice.

Isaac… Please forgive me.

Daring to beg for my forgiveness, just after she gave the order for my execution.

Well, fuck that.

Fuck her.

Fuck them all.

If I could take more than a small sip of air, I’d scream. If I had the use of my hands, I’d throw things. I’d tear this building apart brick by brick. But I’m trapped, and not just physically.Mentally, I’m caught in a place between fury, demoralization, and logic.

It’s turning me inside out.

On one hand, why the hell would this woman pick me? Why pick a stranger over the man she married? She wouldn’t.

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