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The bell tolls.
Two more spots remain.
Dread grows inside me when the final place is won and all the screens go blank.
“What happens now?” I wonder out loud.
Professor Vaughn answers dejectedly. “I wish I knew.”
“How the hell don’t you know?” Ben asks angrily. “As Windsor’s right-hand man I thought you knew everything.”
The professor turns his blue gaze on Ben. “Not everything is as black and white as it appears, Mr. Lennox.”
“I know you hold his dick when he pisses and probably wipe his ass, too,” I snark, unable to help myself.
The professor reacts quickly, ensnaring my neck in his hands. “Watch your mouth, smartass, or I’ll recommend to Windsor that we have your tongue removed and save the world from having to listen to all the shit you talk.”
He releases me before I can even react, too stunned for it to register.
Fury builds and I stand, hands clenched into fists. “You fucking cocksucking—” But my words are lost as the bell begins again, constantly tolling its deep, foreboding tone. That’s when I hear the rattle of chains.
From the distance, far to our right, in the haze of the heat with the hedges of the maze as the backdrop, students march forward. Every single one of them is blindfolded, their arms bound behind their backs. Like you would see in a prison, the students are shackled to one another at the waist by a length of chain which links down to more shackles surrounding their ankles. Covered in mud and blood from head to toe, they are hardly recognizable as they stumble forward, some crying, all of them exhausted.
“What the fuck…” I murmur, unable to believe what I’m seeing. “Where are the winners?”
Just then, the speakers crackle and Principal Windsor’s excited voice reverberates around the arena. “Well done, Bitterwood Prep! You’ve given The Gallery a most wonderful performance. Everyone has thoroughly enjoyed the show, and it’s all because of you. I’d tell you to give yourselves a round of applause but that would be quite a challenge considering your arms are secured behind your backs.” He laughs at his own, sick joke before continuing. “You might be wondering who are the lucky twelve who will advance to the next round of games. You’ll be excited to know that you’re about to find out. Guards, put them into position.”
A dozen guards emerge from the stands and head towards the students. They turn each one of them to face the stands. “Where’s Remi?” I ask Ben, but it’s Professor Vaughn who finds her first.
He points towards the middle of the line. “Fifteen in, right after Bianca.”
And then I see her, unrecognizable, the mud obscuring all her blond curls, even her face and skin.
“Isn’t this fun?” the principal exclaims. “Now to strip them of whatever dignity they think they have left before the finale. Have to make this worthwhile for the high-paying gallery! Guards, strip them down.”
The guards pull knives from their belts and proceed to cut off the muddy outfits of the students until every shred of material is on the ground.
“Guards, let’s clean them off. The Gallery deserves to have a clear visual of what happens next.”
Moving around the students, most of whom are sobbing, the guards pick up hoses. But they are no ordinary gardening hoses. Instead, they appear to be sturdy enough to fight a forest fire. Water ejects from the nozzles, pelting the students who are unable to escape the onslaught. And the guards are relentless, spraying them in the face until they choke. The girls scream as the guards linger on their tits and cunts, and the guys shout when it blasts their cocks, making them flop around from the ferocity of the spray.
The students try to jerk out of the way but they can’t move and are forced to stand there and endure it. A few blindfolds are knocked off but are quickly replaced, cutting off their sight once more. It might be better this way, not being able to see what’s coming, what terrible fate lies ahead of them.
Cleaned, and dripping with water, the students are then shoved to their knees. I can hear their heavy breathing from here, and see the wounds they’ve suffered. Huge gashes run across one’s stomach, and a large bite mark bleeds from the leg of another. Bloody scratches, oozing claw marks, and even a gunshot wound appear with the mud and gore gone. One girl has a length of barbed wire still encasing her arm.
So much pain.
So much suffering.
Will it ever end?
The speakers come back to life and the principal speaks to the students. “A few of you have shown me blatant disrespect. So this little recourse is to remind you that I own you now. I can do anything I want to you and no one can stop me. I can hurt you, strip you, fuck you if I wanted. I hold all the power and you are nothing but helpless little lambs who must endure it. I have you on your knees, naked with your tits and dicks out, shackled like a prisoner. Helpless. Vulnerable. Completely under my control.” He pauses for a moment. “Guards, arm your weapons.”
“Arm your weapons? What the fuck?” Ben growls, and the three of us rise to our feet again. It takes every ounce of control I have not to charge down there and save her but I know that would end with both of our deaths and I don’t want to be the reason Remington no longer breathes. Because right now, there’s still a chance. Right now she could still be one of the twelve who move on, who survive.
One by one the guards pick up a weapon standing not fifteen feet in front of my peers. Some have small shotguns and revolvers, while others have rifles.
“They're gonna kill them!” I shout, feeling more hopeless than I ever have before. “Professor! Do something!”
