Page 5 of Corrupted Torment

Age Eight

I kick my little legs back and forth on the branch of the tree while watching my brothers fight with wild abandon below. None of them have bothered to look up. They don’t use logic when the rules are laid out. My brothers use brute force rather than brains. Not me though; I know they will get sleepy eventually.

The fight is to be the last one standing—not who wins the most rounds. All I need to do is to knock out whoever won the fight before I come down. They will be tired and weak, and I will have much more of a chance.

It’s not a fair fight. It’s okay though; I know how to play dirty.

I see the Doctor from my perched spot. He is not to be confused with a daddy; he is not that to us. No, he is just Doctor. A man with blue eyes, a harsh face, brown hair and a boring white outfit. Always white. His smile is something more predatory, baring his teeth in malicious intent. Though sometimes he will congratulate us on doing well in our games, rewarding us for our success.

He likes to watch the games.

I know he’s seen me. He’s taking notes on the fighting, writing notes on each of my brothers as they are defeated. He doesn’t like me much. Told me until I use my brawn, I’ll amount to nothing. He thinks his stupid jacket makes him look so smart, but it doesn’t.

Strength doesn’t mean everything, and I’ll prove it.

I’m the youngest, and some of my brothers are near enough teenage boys. If I tried to fight, I would have lost already. In my books, that makes my brain a massive advantage. As I watch over the fight, I place bets with myself on who will win based on the probability of their skills. My bunkmate has been teaching me. He’s a whiz at maths.

Looking at the fight below, Devon will probably be the overall contender for me to defeat. At eleven years old, his anger is twisted in with his speed and determination to win. It’s a deadly mix, and as he grows older, his skills will only continue to thrive.

Quietly, I slink down the tree. I watch my black-haired brother fight what he reckons to be the last sibling between himself and victory. I am careful to avoid his notice. The grunt and telltale thud of a body hits the ground.

Out of nowhere, he appears, fists already raised. My head pounds at the single punch he slams into my cheek. His eyes are black, filled with darkness as the malicious grin of victory spreads across his face. It’s the last thing I see before I hit the floor in defeat.

I was kidding myself to believe I could beat Devon.

I never really stood a chance.

* * *

AGE TEN

Outside the perimeter of our facility home, me and my brothers walk in single file through the trees along the stone path. Large drops of water slowly drip from the trees above as dark clouds line the sky.

A rainstorm has just passed, but it’s far from over as we splash on the puddled walkway, cleaning our muddied boots. It makes me smile briefly, the thought of actually being a kid for one glorious second as I stamp my foot down just a little bit harder than necessary. The slap round the back of my head from an accompanying nurse is worth it for that precious moment.

Our Doctor leads us onwards, only stopping to point his arm out into the woodland. Oh goody, a treasure hunt of doom. As I approach, he gives me a smile full of gleaming teeth, a grin for each of us as we pass. The look is way more unsettling to me than whatever it is he’s trying to portray.

Knowing him, it’s exactly what he wants.

As we trek into the wilderness of the island in a long snakelike queue, I keep my eyes peeled for whatever challenge they have set us. I know full well it could be anything. Over the years, I have lost nine brothers to this place. Five have died from the trials we have been given.

An elbow rams painfully into my gut, and I let out a squeak. I need to tread carefully; things have become so much more dangerous than they once were. Now it’s become a challenge just to stay alive. Knowing it is pointless going against the bigger boy, I ignore Devon as he stalks past. He is the worst of them all.

As I grow, the time for fun is less and less. It’s not something I question, it’s just a part of growing up. The games we play have become more lethal. They have had their consequences; ones I’m pretty sure are intentional. As things have become more savage, the more Devon enjoys inflicting his brutality. In his vicious mindset, he delights in others’ terror, hunting down victims like a monster in the night.

Never his own suffering though.

Devon thirsts to dole out the pain to anyone who crosses his path. His black eyes lighten with a spark of madness every time he drives in the knife. As he listens to the screams, it fills something deep inside him. It doesn’t matter if it’s friend or foe; no one can truly escape his sights.

The other four of my nine brothers lost their lives because of Devon’s blood lust.

One day he’ll get his. Until then, I need to take the blows I can and avoid any major damage. I can’t be seen to fight back and give him the excuse to do me actual harm. Devon has made his mission to hunt me clear and not just inside the games. He sees me as weak, something I desperately want to change, if only to get his attention away from me.

I watch as Devon makes his way to the front of our pack of brothers, each earning their own jab, punch or kick on the way. He spares no one of his wrath. As if the sky itself feels his madness, it darkens, eclipsing out the sun with clouds.

It’s strange to watch him. Something new, somethingotherabout him has been happening. It’s like he is evolving. Devon was always quick, but now he’s faster than ever. His strength is almost inhuman, along with his growing volatile mentality. It’s very peculiar.

He’s only thirteen, but I’m confident he could defeat fully trained men. It scares me.

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