Page 2 of Corpse Roads

“Yes, s-sir,” I murmur, barely above a whisper.

“Good little girl. Again.”

Turning his broad back to me, I watch him approach Laura’s cage next. My eyes fall shut as he unlocks the door with an ornate skeleton key. The words come to me without thinking.

“Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.”

“Louder,” he barks.

“Please Lord, have mercy. Free me from my sins and grant me your almighty forgiveness.”

Laura’s cries soon turn into agonised screams. The sound reverberates around me, deafening my empty prayers. Some of the girls before her screamed when Pastor Michaels knelt between their legs, unclipping his belt buckle. Others didn’t.

I think I hear Laura trying to scramble away, followed by the crunch of her body being thrown into the metal bars. Peeking one eye open, I watch her crumple to the concrete, boneless and barely conscious.

“What happens to sinners, Harlow?” Pastor Michaels shouts.

“They burn in eternal damnation.”

“You hear that, Laura? It’s your fault that you’re here. Selling your body is an unforgivable sin. Unforgivable.”

Pastor Michaels likes to punish prostitutes the most. At least, I think that’s what they’re called. Mrs Michaels calls them that, or sluts. I don’t know what that word means, but it sounds bad.

Her voice gets all low and hissy when she talks about some of the girls brought down here for their final judgement. She says they bring the devil out in Pastor Michaels.

The devil isn’t inside of him though.

He really is the devil.

Grabbing Laura by the throat, he smashes his lips against her mouth, trapped open in a scream. My stomach threatens to revolt. I can’t afford to throw up the meagre crust of bread I was rewarded with for being a good girl.

Laura jerks and wails as Pastor Michaels’ hands roam over her naked body. When he pushes a thick finger inside of her, she screeches like she’s being dipped in acid.

“I am a messenger of God, you filthy whore. You will submit to my will or burn for an eternity in hell.”

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

Striking Laura across the face, Pastor Michaels’ gold ring leaves a deep, oozing cut. He pins her against the bars, raising the heavy silver cross from his chest. The chanting begins.

I cower in the corner of my cage, my arms covering my head. It does nothing to eliminate the sound of sobbing and Pastor Michaels’ pleasured grunts. He doesn’t even remove his ceremonial robes to do it, though he always takes care to pull a little foil packet from his pocket.

This part always makes the girls beg for death. When he has growled out his release, the final steps of the ritual proceed. I keep my eyes tightly shut until it’s all over. Pastor Michaels whispers a final, fervent prayer before leaving the basement.

Laura’s blood seeps into my cage from the deep, vicious carvings in her skin. The Holy Trinity. Beautiful symbols that are desecrated as they’re engraved with serrated steel.

Most girls die quickly. The ritual cleanses them of their sins, but they aren’t forgiven. Not by this cruel God. They’re freed into the punishing arms of the devil to escort them down to hell.

Pastor Michaels usually slashes the girls’ throats or chokes them to death when he’s had his fill, but not Laura. She’s been trouble since the beginning, according to Mrs Michaels.

He leaves Laura barely clinging to life. It’s a brutal game, and the final punishment for her relentless defiance is a slow, agonising death, with no choice but to bleed out until her last breath.

“H-Harlow…”

“No,” I sob, clamping my hands over my ears.

Laura whispers into the dark, begging for relief. She tells me that it’s going to be okay, and I’m strong enough to find my own way out of here without her. I don’t believe a word of it. I’m nothing.

“Please… don’t make me… d-die like this.”

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