Page 34 of Sadistic Obsession (Rise of Phoenyxx #1)

S ynn

I haul ass through the forest, the trees whizzing by me in a blur, as I try to outrun my rage and my demons.

My knife is gripped tightly in my fist, and I drag the blade across trees as I go by them.

The screaming in my head is deafening. I can’t think.

..the pain is thrashing inside of me. I come to an abrupt stop, breathing heavily.

I look around, seeing the electric fence way too close.

There is a blind spot from the cameras right where I am, but if I move forward at all, they will catch me.

It's pitch black out here—no moon or stars to be seen tonight. It's getting cold, and the wind is picking up. Just like my fucking soul—black and cold. It's better, anyway; it reduces my chances of being seen.

I huff a groan as I sink to the ground. My knees go up in front of me, and I rock back and forth.

I raise my arm, looking at my sharp, lethal blade.

It calls to me like a siren’s song. I lift my shirt, scoring yet another cut across my chest. The only thing that calms the chaos is blood.

My chest and stomach are covered in slashes, as are my arms and legs.

I'm not even the cutter—that is Ghost. I am just so...done with it all. I truly don’t give a fuck anymore.

My back shoots ramrod straight when I hear the voices of my former friends calling for me.

“Synn!” Razor’s voice calls, as the trees around me thrash with movement.

I climb to my feet, putting my mask of indifference in place.

Razor stumbles through the trees, coming right up to me when he sees me.

“I have been concerned, brother!” I step back several steps, frowning. The others join him, surrounding me.

“Bro...where have you been?” Trikk asks.

“We have to talk,” Frost bites out, with no expression. I glance up to see Ghost, who physically shuts down, turning away from me. Purge isn’t even here.

“WE have nothing to say to each other! I walked away!”

“Like fuck!” Razor retorts. He steps up, grabbing my face. “You are my fucking brother; nothing will change that!”

I sneer in his face. “You ALL chose pussy over me! A girl we are supposed to destroy!”

A hand smacks me across the face, and I jerk my head to the side. Ghost looks me in the eye and spits on me. “You are dead to me,” he says with a firm voice.

“Do not talk about Killer like she’s nothing,” Frost adds.

My jaw drops in shock. “YOU? You don’t even have fucking feelings!”

“I may not, but I do know hurting an innocent is not okay.”

I laugh loudly. “Wow...pot meet kettle much? How many innocent people have we offed because our fathers commanded us to?”

“Enough of this!” Frost yells. “Synn—you have to come back with us. Our fathers will skin us alive if they catch wind of you defecting.”

“I don’t give a single fuck! I am OUT. I will not change my mind! If my father kills me, he kills me.”

“Brother—” Trikk starts, but I interrupt him.

“NO. I am not your brother! Don't come after me again!” I look around at them all. “I mean it. Fuck off and don’t track me down. Carry on with your whore!” I spit on the ground and back away towards the trees, watching them warily as I retreat.

I turn and take off back to the empty room I've holed up in.

Razor

“Motherfucker!” I yell, my fist turning white at how hard I’m gripping my razor. I twirl it between my fingers, itching to cut up someone. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Frost lets out a heavy sigh. “We have to regroup. Our fathers have to be informed of this. Purge—have you managed to find anything on Killer?”

Purge shakes his head, a grim expression on his face. “They aren’t anywhere. It is like her and those old people don’t exist. I can't even find a Social Security number for her. It's too convenient. Something is really wrong here.”

I start pacing around the dorm, turning to make sure they agree with me. I’m shaking with anger, and the loss of my closest friend stings.

“Purge,” Frost says, “I want to see what you have, and we have to figure out how to tell our fathers.”

“Bro, I feel sick,” Trikk declares, a twisted expression on his face.

“I say good riddance,” Ghost snarls.

I stew in my mind, knowing my fight lessons with Fiasca won’t be happening now. I keep envisioning her sexy little body punching me. Hopefully soon...

I walk out of Purge’s room, leaving the suite altogether, restless as hell. One foot in front of the other, and all that. I just want to get this over with.

Hunter

I glance around before unlocking the medical building door. It's the middle of the night, and I’m definitely not supposed to be here. I need to check out the back, though—where the medications are dispensed.

I was watching silently when Director Augustine forced Phoenyxx into the line of waiting students. As far as I know, it’s the doctor who dispenses the meds into the cups every morning. The nurse who was there is the only one I’ve seen.

The fact that the director made such a fuss over personally assisting her to take meds is definitely not typical protocol.

He had a tight grip on her upper arm, which had me seething.

I am also alarmed that I have no idea what she was given.

I'm supposed to be part of the decision of who gets what.

My diagnosis contributes to the decision.

From what I could see from the shadows, it was quite a handful of pills.

I am glad Ghost was with her, though I will never be comfortable with seeing her with any of those six boys. I had to stop myself from following them outside to take her away so I could take care of her. Instead, I made a plan to check things out, which led me here tonight.

I step inside, quickly locking the door behind me.

The building is deserted at night. I follow the main hallway to the back of the building, past the offices.

I sweep the whole area, not seeing anything.

The nurse’s station has nothing. I wait a beat and listen as I tap around the walls.

I'm willing to bet there are tunnels coming from here somewhere.

I find a spot on the very back wall that sounds hollower than the rest of the wall.

I push on it firmly, my eyebrows raising as a door sweeps open with a swish. What the...?

I feel around for a light switch, feeling a cord from the ceiling, which I pull, and a dim light comes on.

I suck in a gasp, as I see it’s a storage room full of medications.

Why would meds be stored in a secret room?

My eyes widen as I take in the sheer number of medications stored inside.

WAY more than a place like this should have.

There are easily hundreds of bottles here!

I start searching the labels, which seem to be grouped by affliction, versus the standard alphabetical order.

I move towards the anxiety area, browsing the labels.

The standard meds are here, so I keep looking.

I wade to the back where the rarer diagnoses bottles are stacked.

I look through schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and borderline personality disorder.

All typical medications. Then, I spy a small section of bottles off to the side under the broad blanket of psychosis.

My mouth drops. I whip out my phone to take photos and start recording a video.

My voice shakes as I breathlessly record what I see.

“There are multiple illegal substances here.” I pick up a bottle.

“This is nightshade, which is a highly poisonous plant,” I speak softly.

“And this—it's a pill form of peyote, a strong hallucinogen. These back here,” I motion with my hand, “are not even labeled like the others. The names are handwritten.” I swallow hard as I grab one of those bottles.

“Belladonna. A toxic plant. And this is marked LSD—acid, in street terms. This one here is white snakeroot, potentially lethal. And this one is hemlock!” I turn to face the camera.

“No one should touch this stuff—especially young, mentally disturbed students.

It's not only dangerous, but it can kill mercilessly. Why would Augustine have this? Who is he giving it to, and why?”

I stop the recording, saving it to my phone.

I snap some photos to go with it. I shudder out a breath as I slowly back out of the small space, snicking the door shut.

I make a fast job of getting my ass back outside, and scurry to my apartment.

As soon as I’m locked inside, I pull up the encrypted e-mail I use to communicate with the group that hired me.

I shoot off a quick message, attaching the video and photos.

The system is set up to delete the messages as soon as they’re sent, to make them undetectable.

I'm beginning to suspect this place is a lot more than what it seems. Considering my background in the military, I shouldn't be shocked at what people are capable of. And the levels they will go to in order to cover it up.

Hunter- Age 22- US Marines- Helmand Province, Afghanistan

Me and the rest of my team split up, seeking out the threat to neutralize it. We have been informed that there are enemy soldiers in this area. Our orders are to do whatever it takes to get the answers they want from them.

We are stationed in a small area of Afghanistan, surrounded by small, dilapidated buildings. They are built close together, with about three feet of space between each one.

I sneak down a dark area, in between the outside of the furthest building, spotting a cowering form at the far end.

I grab my com, speaking into it. “Got one! South side, northwest corner of E.” I walk towards the person.

“Don’t move! I have orders to shoot!” I shout as I hold my M27 rifle in front of me.

Aiming at the trembling person, I get close enough to see it’s just a young, Middle Eastern girl.

“Stand up!” I order, and she shakily stands up.

She's dressed in a thin shirt, with bare feet. “Who are you? Where are the others?”

She starts shaking her head, shoving her hands in front of her, as she babbles, “I no English! No English!” I watch her closely, aiming straight at her forehead with my gun when she moves her arm, and turns away at the waist. “I said DON’T FUCKING MOVE!”

She lets out a blood-curdling scream as she whips back around, holding something metallic in her hand. My breath stalls as I hear whimpers and cries coming from behind her. “Drop it! Move away from the others!”

She just raises her chin and holds out her hand, clutching the object in defiance.

It looks like a homemade shiv of some kind.

Before my team gets to me, I don’t hesitate to take the shot.

She falls to the ground, a small hole in her forehead, and her brain oozing out of the back, where a giant hole was made by the bullet.

I run forward, aiming at the sound of the cries.

The sound of my team reaches my ears as they rush up to my side.

“Come out now!” I yell. All I can see is multiple pairs of eyes.

We wait for them to comply, ready to fire at command.

When no one moves, I glance over and give a small nod, which means to go.

We open fire, screams piercing the warm and humid night air.

Once the screams die out, we wade in. I almost drop my gun when I see nothing but scattered parts of children flung everywhere.

“Oh My God,” I whisper in horror. I swing my head to my team; all of them as white as I am.

“This never happened. Everyone understand?” Frantic nods respond.

I force myself to turn my back and walk away from the slaughter.

“Clean up, then we tell Colonel NOTHING was seen. We found no one.”