Page 89 of Sadistic Retribution
My eyes widen, my back going stiff. I get up off Hunter’s lap, kneeling with Frost on the floor. “You mean that, don’t you?” I pause, collecting my thoughts.
“Every single word, sincerely,” he whispers, looking at me reverently, like I hung the moon.
I force myself to stand up again. I can’t forgive and forget, I just can’t.
Like a guard in a prison surveying the prisoners, I stand with my arms crossed. “Well? Anyone else?” They all rush to assure me it was all lies. I wonder what else those fucking masks lied about? “Okay, I'm going to tell you all everything. You might want to sit down.”
Ghost comes up to me, putting his hand on my arm. “Malishka, you know how much I love you. I’m sorrier than you will ever know. Please, please forgive me. I'm drowning without you.”
“Dammit! Fucking listen up—all of you! How the fuck do you expect me to forgive you? You made me think you killed my best friend! You ripped my fucking soul out! I wanted to die. You all fucking smiled—SMILED—while I broke! Then fucking laughed! And then… they put me in The Morgue.
“They fucking tortured me horribly. They drugged me, beat me, raped me! Made me fucking fight in a damn ring! Tore Bryan away from me too, getting sent to who the fuck knows where.” I stop to inhale, then continue my rant. “You want to know why they sent me back? I was too strong to break the way the masks wanted me to. They told me I was working for The Retreat if I agreed to it. My emotions shut off after all the videos they forced me to watch. So, fuck you all!”
Hunter gently says from the sofa, “Pretty Girl, take a few breaths. I understand completely.”
Tears have streaked my face, dripping onto my chest. I’m shaking. The pain in my chest is like an iron fist, it hurts so fucking much. The deceit, the lies!
Purge pales, opening his mouth to speak. “Iskra, I think we all understand. We really had no choice. Our fathers—Mafia fathers—gave us the order and provided us with everything we needed to make it look real. They told us if we didn’t do it, They would. Our fathers are terrifying. They would have done far worse to you than The Morgue did.”
I struggle to wrap my mind around that. “Explain.”
“Me, Ghost, and Frost are heirs to the Russian Bratva...”
“And me, Razor, and Trikk are heirs to the Italian Mafia,” Synn finishes.
“I get what you’re saying, but I cannot forgive you- yet.”
“Okay,” Trikk says. “I love you, Bambi. Best thing to ever happen in my life.”
I look to the others. Razor and Purge speak at the same time. “We fell in love with you, too. Figured it out once you were gone.”
“And me, I fucking love you, Pazessca. Never loved anyone like this,” Synn says with conviction.
That leaves Frost. “Killer, I am head-over-heels in love with you. I have never felt anything, but I’m sure what I feel for you is love.”
Are they actually being honest? Do they love me this much? My gut is telling me they’re being truthful. I do believe their explanation.
“Who the fuck are the masks?” Synn’s gruff tone breaks in.
“I don’t know. There were four of them—Demon, Jester, Skull, and Horns. Their heads were completely covered. Demon seemed to be in charge. Jester was crazy as fuck.”
“The fuck?” Razor says. “Are they the ones who hurt you?”
“Yes. They did everything I told you.”
Synn yells, driving a fist into the wall next to him. He’d risen from his seat, standing off to the side. “They will all die!”
Hunter, ever the voice of reason, breaks in. “Is there anything else you haven't told us? Any information could be helpful. We're trying to bring this place down.”
“And our fucking fathers too,” Purge sneers, spitting it out like a bad taste in his mouth.
“There were levels,” I say. “The first place I was kept with Bryan seemed to be a lower level. They took me up a level for thetorture and drugging. Then up another level to the cell block I was in before I came back. There were multiple torture rooms.
I take a deep breath, getting the rest out. “In my cell block, there was a fighting arena, and spectators. We were made to fight one another. As for the we… the other prisoners. We were called numbers—not names. I don't know anyone else’s actual names.
“The girl near me, patient 6, was crazy as fuck. She was adorable, though. Then there’s patient 10. One other woman, built like a guy, but is decently nice. The absolute worst one is patient 9. He’s a literal fucking cannibal. Then... patient 3. No one knew he was there. I found him. He's feral and mute. He took a liking to me and responded to me. My heart hurts for him.”
“Damn, bro,” Trikk says softly. “So much worse than what I thought.”