Page 21 of Property of Necro
Why the hell is there a casket here?
Necro doesn’t give me an answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He lifts the lid, and the inside is lined with red fabric.
Why is it red?
Showing zero emotion, he points to the pillow, where a corpse would lie its head.
Hold up.
Does he think what I think he thinks?
I’m not…
He doesn’t really want me to…
Wait…
Keeping my eye on him, I slowly back away in horror, one step after another. “I’m not sleeping in there.” My voice wobbles as my heart hammers a million miles an hour.
I’m not sleeping in a casket or a coffin or anything of the like.
No.
No.
No.
My back hits the door, and when I try to turn the handle, it’s locked.
Fuck!
As still as a statue, Necro continues to point to the casket, those insane blue eyes glued on me.
There must be a way out.
Shaking my head, my bare feet slap against the cold, black floor as I dart to the other door in the room and jerk the knob, trying to get out. It doesn’t budge.
Sweat beads on my brow, and air wheezes from my lungs as I race to the final door across the space, where I grab, pull, and push with all my might to get out. I beat the side of my fist against the wood until little pieces of wood pierce my flesh as I throw my hip into it to break the hinges or something. Pain ripples up my thigh, but I don’t stop. This is crazy. I can’t sleep down here.
“Help!” I screech as tears leak down my cheeks. “Help! Please!”
My plea is met with a cold, sad silence.
Alone.
Again.
Swiping the back of my hand across my damp face, I turn and press my spine against the door to face him—the monster they call Prez. “I’m not sleeping in there.”
The big fucker with the mask doesn’t move, he just points.
“I’m not!”Please don’t make me.
Shrugging as if he doesn’t give a fuck, the man with muscles, pale skin, and an entire chest and abdomen covered in scars approaches. I square up, ready to fight. They can fuck me. They can pierce me. They can even make me sit on the floor like a dog, but I’m not sleeping in a casket.
“You’d better unlock the door,” I warn, raising my fists.
The asshole cocks his head to the side, and I swear I see mirth dancing in his ice-blue gaze.
