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TWENTY-SEVEN
Barbi
The foul scentof the cell assaults me as I’m forced back into its bleakness.
It’s cramped.
Dark.
Pungent.
Rank with fear.
And there’s no Alec.
His absence echoes within the small space.
Panic surges through me as I peer through the gloom, desperately hoping to catch him huddled in one of the darker corners.
Where is he?
What happened to him?
Suffocating uncertainty clots the air, making it impossible to breathe. To think. To cling to what fragile hope remains.
Just as despair threatens to consume me, approaching footsteps slice through the silence. A scraping noise accompanies them, adding to the dread coiling in my stomach. Those footsteps stop outside the door before a key grates in the lock.
The door grinds against the concrete as it slowly opens. Artemus Gonzales steps into view, his gaze chilling in its cold, dispassionate calculation. He looks down at me, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “Well, well, it’s just you and me, my Barbie doll.”
Fear clogs my throat, rendering me mute. All I can do is stare in terror. Gonzales leans closer, his rancid breath curdling my stomach.
“We removed both trackers from your Guardian, which means it’s time to move you. When your Guardian friends come, thinking to rescue you, they’re going to be in for one hell of a surprise. You won’t be here, of course, but I have something planned for them.” His dark eyes swirl with malevolence, and his threatening words are a tangible presence in the room.
Artemus grabs me by the arm, his grip cruel. He yanks me up against his repugnant body. He invades my space and takes a tight hold of my head. The monster plants hungry kisses all over my face. His fingers dig deep into my hair as he crushes his cold lips against mine, pinning me in place with his iron grip.
His mouth ravages mine as his hands roam over my body, harshly fondling and squeezing my breasts before delving further south between my legs. I struggle wildly against him, unable to break free from his iron grip.
With a satisfied smirk he pulls away. “Remember this moment, for it serves as a reminder you are mine. When you reach your destination, I’ll show you exactly what that means.” His laughter rings out as he finally releases me.
Fear runs rampant through my body, leaving me trembling and shaking. There’s no escape now—I’m completely at the mercy of this monster.
He grabs my arm, and drags me out of the cell, where he steers me down a long hallway filled with guards, each wearing an equally smug grin. We pass through that long corridor lined with cells and I’m confronted with the brutal handiwork of Artemus and his heart-wrenching display of suffering.
Women stripped of their vitality, stare out with hollow eyes from emaciated frames, victims of relentless fear and starvation. They’re nothing more than living skeletons, shadows of their former selves, and they all bear the indelible imprint of Artemus’s monstrousness.
Among them, a teen holds a little girl in her listless arms. The little girl’s dirty, matted hair frames a face far too innocent for the horrors she’s endured and bear nothing but shadows of a haunted innocence that no longer exists. The teen’s eyes, glazed and distant, show the effects of unconscionable torture. Her once bright future dead and gone.
Across the hall, in another cell, defiance flares in the eyes of an older woman; older meaning young twenties, like me. Her gaunt frame stands out with the echoes of what was once tremendous beauty. Despite the physical toll, her spirit remains unbroken. Her eyes blaze with indomitable will, her clenched jaw and tense shoulders are a testament to her resilience.
The sight of her defiance stirs admiration from me and fuels my already hardened resolve to endure.
A shroud of despair hangs heavy in the cells. The once vibrant chatter of these women has long since faded into suffering silence, leaving only the whisper of sobs and the metallic clang of chains.
There are no whispered words of support. No camaraderie among the victims. The air holds a nauseating mix of fear, defeat, and hopelessness, punctuated by the acrid scent of unwashed bodies and the metallic tinge of dried blood. Each sensory detail sharpens the horror of their predicament, deepening my loathing for Artemus.
It’s a tangible illustration of his voracious appetite for suffering and his sadistic cruelty, the embodiment of his lust for power and control.
Even within this grim tableau, the carnage of so many ruined lives, I find resolve. I lock eyes with the defiant woman, a silent pledge forged amidst the hopelessness. I won’t let the flicker of hope die, and I sure as hell won’t let Artemus use me to extract the information he wants from Alec.
