Page 16 of Poisoned Pawns (The Gamemakers Trilogy #1)
Silas Carmichael-Weaknesses
**HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING**
BURIED ALIVE
FORCED SUICIDE IDEATION
ON PAGE AND GRAPHIC.
“You’re not going to shoot me, Poison. Put the gun down!” I order as a lonely tear falls down her porcelain cheek.
“Come down here, Si,” she says and I shake my head.
“Nah, tell me what the fuck is going on?” I say as Des helps the girls out of the hole.
“I can’t. Just please come down here and do exactly what I tell you,” she says, and I cock my head to the side just as my phone vibrates in my pocket. Taking it out, I read the text and growl.
Unknown:
Do as she says and no one will die tonight. You don’t want history repeating itself now, do you? -Checkmate.
This son of a bitch. I just want to get my hands on this prick and drain the life from their body.
“Please, Si,” she begs, and I hop down into the hole. “I’m really sorry about this,” she says as she swings at me, hitting my temple hard and fast with the butt of the gun, causing me to stumble and my vision to go black as I hit the cold earth hard.
Waking up, the first things I notice are that it’s pitch black and I have duct tape over my mouth, something covering my ears and my face, and my hands are tied together. The smell alone makes me want to vomit, and I refuse to die by choking. Wiggling around, I finally realize where the fuck I am.
“No! No! No!” I scream into the tape as my heart races and my chest heaves.
I don’t like small spaces. I don’t like being enclosed with no way out.
This can’t be happening. I try to calm my erratic heart and take long, deep breaths, but all I hear is thudding and whispered chatter above me.
Then suddenly, a voice laughs in my ear as a familiar tune that I recognize from my creepy jack-in-the-box plays slowly while the menacing voice continues to laugh through the headphones I have over my ears.
What the fuck? I can feel the walls of this casket caving in on me as I scream for help, thrashing and kicking to try and set myself free.
The music stops, and the thudding above me gets lower and lower.
The voices are now just a mere whisper, causing me to panic even more, knowing for a certainty now that I’m being buried alive.
Is this the way I’m going to die? Not by the bag, but by my stepsister and friend?
I need to think. I have to stop panicking and fucking think, but that fucking voice is screaming through the headphones causing me to wince and scream some more. Someone help me! Please help me!
“Oh, Silas, I’ve missed you! You thought tonight was going to be a simple night.
Hang out with your cat, Cornie, and take a few hits.
” He laughs as I continue to thrash, needing to get myself out of this fucking casket.
I can’t be in here. I shiver as I feel bugs crawling all over me.
Someone get me the fuck out of here! Please!
Still, I kick and scream, breathing heavily through my nose as the panic really sets in.
“You’re worthless,” he laughs, and I shake my head.
That’s not true. I’m more than what I used to be.
“No one loves you, not even your daddy,” he reminds me as tears leak down to my ears.
I know he doesn’t love me. How could anyone love a selfish drug addict who does nothing but fuck up all the time?
He’s never loved me. I was just an inconvenience for him, always giving his real family the attention I yearned for.
My half brother doesn’t even know about me or the lie that’s been told to him for the last three years.
I need to calm down and think, but I can’t when he taunts me, making me want to take the knife that's nestled in my pocket and slice my own wrists. I know that it will take all the pain away and I’ll finally be free from the demons that haunt me every minute of every day.
“It should've been you!” he yells as I try to move my hands up to at least remove the tape from my mouth, but I can barely move an inch. I scream, hoping someone above me will help me, but it’s no use. If they were going to, they wouldn’t be burying me alive right now.
Thrashing some more, I finally get the tips of my fingers to graze the bottom of the tape.
Forcing my chin down as far as I can get it, I blow at the same time as the tips of my fingers try to peel the tape up.
“Fucking die already,” he spits, and I shake my head, trying to peel the tape and blow at the same time, but I’m running out of air in here between the dirt above suffocating the casket and using all the air in my lungs to get the tape off. Shit! I can’t fucking do this.
“This is your grave now! Suffer just like the ones you made suffer for your own selfish needs, Junkie.” He laughs, and begins playing the damn song again as I scream, expelling all my energy and air from my lungs.
“No one is going to save you. Just like you didn’t save them. Karma is a bitch, ain’t it?” he says, and then everything stops, solidifying that I’m going to die here. There’s no fucking way out.
“Just slide your hand in your pocket, take your blade, and drag the metal across your wrist,” he taunts.
My head begins to get dizzy as the air I breathe through my nose becomes heavier.
Slowly, I reach down to the pocket of my jeans and slide my blade up until the handle is sticking out of the top.
Taking another breath as tears pour from my eyes, I pull the handle from my pocket and flip the blade open.
“That’s it Silas. Now cut your bindings to free those gorgeous tattooed wrists and take the pain away,” he whispers, as I position the handle in both hands and press the blade down against the rope, cutting through it like butter.
“Such a good boy. Now, go on, dig the metal into your waiting flesh, paint yourself and Katie red for everyone to see,” he taunts.
My chest tightens as the casket spins and darkness greets me.
I’m so fucking sorry.