Page 20 of Irreversible

“Are you…okay?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Really? Does it sound like I’m okay?”

No answer.

At least the voice—the woman, wherever she is—has a sense of self-preservation. I’m not very chatty on a good day, and this is the opposite of a good day.

This is bullshit.

But I need to stay calm and let the analytical side take over.

First, I inventory my injuries. Several ribs are obviously broken, making it hard to take a full breath. My shoulder is sore as hell, but since I’m fairly sure it was dislocated in the fight, I suspect someone fixed it.

I’ll have to process that later. Moving on…

One eye is swollen shut, but I still have it, so that’s a positive. My toes are wiggling, which is also a good sign. Despite feeling like it’s been through a meat grinder, my ankle is likely just sprained.

Bad sign: there’s a cuff around it. That’s where the chains come in.

In conclusion?

I’m alive. And I’m screwed.

Wincing with every move, I manage to prop myself up on my good elbow. From there, I carefully push up until I can swing my legs over the side of the cot I’m on. Sweating and out of breath, I’m finally sitting up.

Now, assess the scene.

I’m in a small space, enclosed by four white walls with a vent near the ceiling. If the paint wasn’t chipped and worn, it would seem almost clinical. In addition to the cot, there’s a toilet and a sink. A small metal cage fits over a single lightbulb on the ceiling, like someone knew the first thing I would do is break it to use as a weapon.

They would be correct.

Then there’s the steel door with no handle, indicating outside entry only. Probably a keypad. Fancy. I look at the shackle around my ankle. It connects to a thick chain that’s bolted to the floor.

I press my fingers to my forehead. I’m not sure what happened after I almost ripped my foot off, or how I ended up on this cot. I don’t remember getting up from the floor.

But I do remember one thing. My eyes lift to the blinking red light in the corner where the wall meets the ceiling. Exhaling a hollow chuckle, I lift my middle finger.

Message received, motherfuckers.

Plenty of modern cameras can be planted invisibly, which means my captors want me to know they’re watching. I wonder if there’s sound…

None of these factors necessarily exclude your run-of-the-mill serial killer, but since I was brought here by Dolph, it’s safeto conclude this is the ring responsible for the disappearances of dozens of people.

Looks like I did it. I got inside.

Unfortunately, I came in on thewrongside. This is what I get for rushing things before I had a chance to?—

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

With aclickand awhoosh,the door slides open. An older man stands in the frame.

Instincts screaming, my entire body reacts. My muscles coil, preparing to strike. There’s a good chance I’m looking at the person I’ve spent the past two years hunting.

This fucker’s going down.

Two measured steps bring him inside the room. Without testing the length of my chain, I know he’ll be just out of reach. “Oh good, you’re finally awake.” A look of perverse delight stretches over his face. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

I refrain from telling him that’sexactlywhat he’ll be doing. Though I’d love nothing more than to rip this chain out of the floor and strangle him with it, I need to keep this encounter controlled while I evaluate the situation. There’s still more to learn.

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