Page 235 of Heartless Legacy

“Because when I get free, I’m leveling this place to the ground and taking out anyone affiliated with it.”

The guards laugh, and the one who hit me says, “If you survive, the only thing you’ll be doing is crying for mercy or begging for your next fix.”

With a dismissive shrug, I say, “Your funeral.”

The doctor finishes taking my pressure and temperature, then slides the needle into my arm. I tense from the pinch of it and swallow down my panic. I steady my breathing and, turning my questions back to Dr. Quack, I ask, “So, is this what men with more money than God want? To see me strapped to this chair?”

There’s no doubt that watching my mind crack will be way more entertaining than what I’ve done in the gauntlet.

Glancing over to his left where Lazarro is standing, he says, “Not today. I’m just prepping you, like I did the others.” He pushes two more syringe filled solutions through the tubing. “It’s adrenaline, a B vitamin and zinc shot, but it won’t last long.”

He backs away and offers, “I hope you make it through, so we can play again, but if not...” He leaves the,oh well, unsaid, but it’s clear. I’m just a guinea pig and he’ll live to brainwash another day.

The guards unstrap me from the chair and manhandle me again, taking me to another part of the grounds, and push me into a building. The doors snick closed, dropping me into darkness. I try to make out shapes and sounds.

Lazarro's voice projects through an intercom. “You each owe a debt that you have refused to satisfy by running off or refusing to participate in the gauntlet. Ordinarily, I’d immediate accept the first offer I get for deserters, but I’ve decided to give you alla second chance. I’m willing to waive your debt and forgo a sale, for one of you.”

I feel twitchy. I roll my neck and sway, trying to expend some energy. The lights flicker on and off. I count the bodies I see, making note of where they are.

“The rules here are the same as in the gauntlet. You must be the last person standing when the final alarm blares. Your fight for freedom starts now.”

Wood croaks on my left. I jump out of the way right before a crate topples over on me, and run towards the other side of the room. The clutter in the room turns the space into a giant obstacle course. The lights continue to blink off and on, messing with my perception, and I stop twice to fight the people behind me, only to find empty shadows.

Someone comes at me from the right, with a yell. I jerk my hands up to fend them off and stumble backwards into another crate, jarring my back. Pain blooms in my left lower side. I counter their attack with a punch which they easily dodge. There’s another fight happening on my left, and I’m sure a few more are happening on the other side of the room. Pushing the girl backwards, I grab her hair and slam her face against a crate, then frantically looking for a safe place to catch my breath and try to come up with a plan.

It’s hard to focus on where to run, with the lights flashing. I don’t make it far before I encounter someone else. Not giving the guy a chance to react, I run at him, knocking him into the wall. He elbows me in the chin, as I reach for his eyes to gauge them out. The second blow to my chin knocks me on my ass. I scurry backwards and scramble to my feet, running for the back wall, when someone grabs my ankle, dragging me back down.

I kick and squirm, trying to break free of his hold. One of my kicks lands squarely against his chest, sending him scootingan inch backwards into a pole. His head cracks against it with a nauseating crunch.

Getting to my feet, I run down the hall, darting into the women’s restroom. I scour the space, looking for something to use as a weapon. There’s no way I can fight for nineteen hours straight.

Climbing onto the sink, I reach up, grabbing one of the plastic grids from the drop ceiling frame and jump off the sink yanking as hard as I can. It takes a few tries to get it loose and expose one of the wires anchoring it to the ceiling. I twist and turn to get the wire and a piece of the plastic grid free. I fashion the wire into a hook before shoving it into my boot. The plastic grid rests against the small of my back. It won’t do much but give a nasty scratch, maybe a paper cut, but every advantage helps.

The door opens and two guards rush into the bathroom. Before I can react, they’re on me, dragging me back into the hall. They drop me in front of a group of four, who attack as soon as the guards step out of the way. My attention is split between fighting multiple opponents and worrying about the guards.

This is all too much like that night. My plans to fight back go to shit as my trauma rears its head, paralyzing me. My eye throbs, my vision’s spotty, and my ears ring. I can’t tell if it’s from my anxiety or the repeated blows to my head. I bite back the cry, working its way up my throat.

I knew the risks of coming here. I knew it would be bad. But, I had no choice. I have to do this. I try to find a sense of calm amidst the panic. I think of Deacon and how I refuse to need him to rescue me again. I can hear him saying bring them in close to regain ground in the fight. I hear LJ saying she trusts me to keep her safe, and I hear Harper Sagebrook’s voice saying, “And if the panic comes. Use it.”

I make myself smaller, letting them get closer. Reaching for my boot with shaky fingers, I dig out the wire and grab at theankles of the person closest to me. When they fall to the ground, I stab, pressing until something gives way, and I feel the warmth of blood on my hand. I try to crawl away, but somebody grabs me from behind, wrapping their arms around my neck, choking me, and dragging me to my feet.

The voice hisses, “This thing is far from over. Back down there you go. No hiding away like a little bitch.”

We’re on some type of platform. He pulls me through the door, maintaining his hold around my neck. I lurch forward, flinging myself down the stairs. Our tumble forces him to break his hold. Using the railing for support, I get to my feet and dive at him, pushing him over the side.

The other two come towards me, and I race down the steps to put distance between us, stumbling as I go, running blindly towards what I think is the back of the building, looking for an exit.

Someone dives for me when I reach the bottom of the stairs, sending me into a crate. It splinters under me. I wince as I scramble to grab one of the jagged pieces. Rolling over, I swing, embedding the nail sticking out of it into his jaw.

I stand on unsteady feet and run for the door, shoving through it, ignoring the pain and nausea. I head left towards the building Lazarro was in. “Where do you think you’re going?” A guard asks as I step through the door. “You’re not supposed to be over here.” Glancing over my shoulder, he asks, “How did you get out?”

He pales when I say, “Through the door.” He looks behind him and says, “Let’s go.”

Taking a step away from him, I search for an opening and a weapon. There are no helpful crates or crowbars over here.Wincing through the breath I take, I say, “I - I think I’ll sit the rest of this out.”

He walks closer, pushing the muzzle of the gun against my shoulder. “You want out, you need to do what Mr. Lazarro says, and win. If you don’t, he’ll just find another way to get you to behave. Or maybe I’ll take the initiative myself.”

Gripping his dick, with his free hand he says, “You’ll perform for us one way or another. Now move.”

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