Page 26 of Poisoned Pawns (The Gamemakers Trilogy #1)

Silas Carmichael- Red & Black

***Heavy Drugging. Descriptive feelings, Suicide Ideation and taunts.***

My eyes slowly open, feeling crusted shut.

I lean over as my stomach flips, causing me to vomit all over the side of the chair and on the floor.

My body aches something fierce. Every single limb hurts so fucking bad, making me want to scream bloody murder.

My head lulls to the side as more acid and bile flows up my throat and onto the floor.

This is the part I hate about doing this drug.

When you do too much, it makes you throw up profusely.

You would think I’d feel better after finally getting the hit I'd yearned for, but I don't. I feel disgusting and disappointed in myself.

Lifting my head, I realize I’m tied to a chair with IVs coming out of my arms, neck, hands, and between my toes. Why didn’t I notice any of this before? This isn’t the first time I’m waking up in this state, and every time my mind makes me feel like I don’t know where I am.

Looking around, I see I’m in the middle of a room, a bedroom maybe, but there’s no carpet, just a tarnished wood floor, and walls that have paint peeling off of them.

There are two windows, both with black garbage bags covering the glass, masking the sunlight trying to come in.

I take a deep breath and smell nothing but piss and mold.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. I thought I was dead in that casket, but someone clearly saved me.

But did they really? Considering I’m restrained by rope and zip ties completely naked, I'd say no.

Looking down at myself, I'm covered in dirt and grime.

My vision blurs as I feel more of the drug rushing through my veins, making me throw up yet again.

My heart beats erratically in my chest, and my mind is fuzzy.

Yes, I’m a junkie. Yes, I have a problem with drugs that I can’t seem to shake, but this?

This is the ultimate torture. I don’t want anymore.

I want it to stop. I don’t know how much more my body can take before the drugs take my life.

I want to live. I want to do so many things in this life.

If I survive this, I promise I will get clean and be a better man for myself and those I love.

Ivy’s face comes to mind, but I’m so mad at her.

She left me. Even after she promised to never leave, she knocked me out and buried me.

How could she? I thought I meant more to her, but it had to be Checkmate.

This all has to be because of the stupid prick.

My mind whirrs and my body feels heavy as I slump in the cold metal chair.

“How are you feeling, Little Junkie?” the ominous robotic voice asks, but I don’t answer.

I don’t have enough strength to respond.

My chest feels so heavy as my breathing slows.

That nauseous feeling hits me yet again, but I try to think of anything else but that.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.

One day you will thank me for this,” the voice speaks again.

I hope I survive because when I do, I'm going to kill this asshole. “You’ve been missing for forty-eight hours and no one has noticed. How does that make you feel, Silas? No one cares for you. I could kill you right now and not a soul would cry over you. Relief comes to mind.”

Laughter blares through the speakers, and I try to shake my head.

I don’t want to listen to the taunts. It’s bullshit.

Someone cares. I can’t let the vile words get to me.

It’s a game. A game I refuse to give in to.

I will not let them win. I have to fight back.

I just don’t know how. I need time to think, but I can’t. Not with this drug clouding my mind.

I use to numb the pain. To shut out the voice in my head telling me to end it all, that I should’ve been the one who died and not Jay.

No matter how many times Ivy tells me it's not my fault, I know it's bullshit. It is all my fault. I should’ve never left him alone in that house. I should’ve gotten us out of there.

But no. I went to the store alone instead of taking him with me.

Ivy doesn’t even know what I’ve done. What I let happen.

What I’ve known all along. She will never forgive me for it.

I don’t even forgive myself. Everything that’s happened has been my fucking fault, and I guess as much as I want to fight and get out of here, this is what I truly deserve.

As much as I want to hurt Ivy for what she did to me, it’s what I deserve!

Between the lies, the betrayal, all the games.

Everything I’ve ever done to that girl. This right here, in this moment, is what I fucking deserve!

Lifting my head slowly, I look around the room for the camera and spot it hanging above the door. I look straight at it and narrow my eyes, using as much strength as I can.

“Kill me! Just fucking do it!” I yell.

“Now, why would I do that? I love playing this game with you, Silas.”

“Are you too much of a pussy to do it? Is that it, Checky? No balls, huh?” I spit, and the robotic voice laughs.

“Checky? You say, I like that little nickname. Plus, I love playing checkers. Maybe one day we can play.”

“Doubtful! Checkers is for pussies. Just like you!” I taunt.

“Don’t be so crass, Silas. I just want to have some more fun with you.”

“See, like I said. No balls.” I laugh, shaking my head.

“You really want to die that bad? I could give you the tools to do it yourself. Now that would be a show. Watching you take the metal blade and slice your drug-filled veins. The blood would be beautiful to see pouring from your body. I wonder what color you will bleed. You’re too tainted for red, probably black like a demon. ”

“Why don’t you come in here and find out?” I goad, feeling my body getting heavier and heavier as the seconds pass by.

“Not yet, Little Junkie, but soon. I have others to torture. I’ll be back, but in the meantime, take a nice little nap.”

“Yeah, yeah. pussy bitch!” I laugh as liquid rushes through my veins, making my body feel like it's on fire. My screams echo around the small space as the room spins, and the last thing I hear is Checky laughing at me, and Ivy’s face hitting my vision as she frowns in disappointment, then everything goes black.