Page 40 of Bitter Rivals (Bitterwood Elites)

It’s too much to take in. As I scan his body for clues, trying to ignore his plea in exchange for red tags, I see the sign behind him. Large hooks fixed to the wall are impaled through the fleshy forearms of the man’s own, severed arms. And fixed between the fingers is a bloodied piece of cardboard with words scrawled across in bright scarlet:

Your prize is inside if you have the “guts” to take it.

“It’s inside of him,” Ben whispers in sickened horror, and I nod hollowly, knowing what we need to do. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Something has been placed inside this limbless man—and he was cut open while still awake as part of his torture. The man begins to scream, his limbless body twitching, his head thrashing from side to side, blood spewing from his mouth. I’m frozen in shock, unsure what to do. Part of me wants to help this man, but he’s too far gone, meaning we should just find our prize and leave him to his fate.

The mutilated man belts out an agonizing cry before looking imploringly at Ben and me. “Kill me.”

Ben steps around to his side, and only now do I see various weapons scattered on the bloodied cement floor—there are knives, rope, and axes strewn about. I even spot the branding iron used to cauterize his shoulders, its fiery end now long cooled.

Ben stoops down and picks up an ax, and I snatch it from him, giving it a few good swings just as Royce stumbles back over, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “W-What are you going to d-do?” he stutters.

I shift my gaze from Royce to the dying man. “I’m going to see that his last wish comes true.”

As I step up to the suffering victim and lock eyes, something passes between us. From him, I feel gratitude—relief even—of the knowledge that I will end his misery.

But for me, it's something entirely different.

Not only do I have to bury my emotions farther within myself, I also have to have the balls to do this, to feel the blade sink into his flesh, to knowIam the one who will end his life. It’s something that, once done, can’t be undone—something I’ll live with and carry each day for the rest of my life.

The red light above flickers as I tighten my grasp on the wooden handle. I blink slowly as all the noise around me fades. It’s like my movements are suddenly dragging, as if the world is moving in slow-motion. The sounds around me are muffled until all becomes eerily quiet. I bring the ax up over my head and take one final glance at the man. He nods once and closes his eyes, granting me permission—and acceptance of what’s to come.

My heart pounds in my chest and a shout erupts from my lungs, even though it makes no sound. All I hear is the endless emptiness as I swing down the blade, watching the rusted ax as it moves past my face. My aim is true, the weapon on mark, and I have just enough time to close my eyes before it slices through flesh and bone.

The world syncs back with time, and a thud sounds as hot blood splatters across my face. Someone pukes—again—and the light flickers as I open my eyes, the ax falling from my hands to the floor in a loud clatter. There, right next to the bloodied blade, is the boy’s decapitated head, his eyes still staring straight into mine.

And through to my soul.

I stagger back, throat clogging as Ben grabs me by the shoulders and guides me to a far corner of the room. My legs give way, and I collapse onto the cold, wet floor, the room spinning at a dizzying rate.

Ben gently taps the side of my face. “Sit and wait. You’ve done enough.”

I see him stand and strip off his shirt before walking back to the corpse, doing what needs to be done as he picks up a knife with a curved blade from the floor. I block out the noises of his dissection, of Royce continuing to puke, of my conscience as it wars with what I’ve done.

I don’t want to think, don’t want to feel. I want to be lost in the endless void of nothingness, perhaps join the dead souls who roam these harrowing halls and escape the sharp claws of the living, but I’m stronger than this. Weakness isn’t something allowedortolerated. It’s squashed quickly, like the butt of a cigarette under a steel-toe boot.

Summoning my strength, I stand back up and walk over to Ben whose fingers are painted red as he searches through endless amounts of intestines for our prize. Part of me wonders if this was some sinister trick of Windsor’s—that maybe there was no prize to begin with.

“I’ve got it,” Ben says a little too calmly, but I understand it.

Sometimes you have to find that place inside of you that drowns out another part of you in order to enhance the whole. It’s the place you go when having morals isn’t possible and your very humanity is in question. A place where you feel nothing—where you are nothing—there you’re nothing but a robot, passively moving your body, forcing your brain not to think about what it’s allowing you to do. A place where you trick your own fucking mind in order to accomplish what must be done, no matter how hard, how uncomfortable it makes you feel.

“Let me see,” I rasp, my voice sore from my own screams.

Congratulations. This paper grants you and one other person of your choice a pass from the next game.

Ben tucks the precious piece of paper inside a pocket of his cargo pants for safe keeping, then turns away from the body. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

As he marches off, Royce tries to question him but Ben silences the fucking prick with an annoyed wave of his hand. As Ben moves past the freezers, past the gurneys of dead bodies, and back to the dark stairs, I can’t help but wonder if this school is worth surviving—but then the image of Remi on her knees flickers into my head. In an instant, I know— yes, it’s worth it—because I’ll be damned if I don’t get to exact my revenge on Vaughn and use his precious little blonde doll in the process.

I can picture it now...

Revenge never tasted so sweet.

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