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Alistair’s back arches with each hit.
God, why?
His face, always so controlled, is twisted in a smile that speaks of pleasure rather than pain and something fierce burning in his soul.
Damien, too, has shed his usual calm. His pale skin is marred with red streaks, the stark black of his hair a shadow against the dim light as he punishes himself. It’s silent and terrifying.
Charlie’s eyes are shut, his body tense as he strikes himself again and again. He is facing me, so it’s good he can’t see me, but what happens when he opens his eyes?
Whatever demons they’re all facing in this fucked-up ceremony are bad. Big and bad and if this is the type of demon Damien has inside him, I’m no match for it.
This is madness. A nightmare. I am witnessing something that feels ancient and secret and way too deep for me to understand. My mind races, trying to piece together this horror show, but my thoughts scatter, unable to stick to anything that makes sense.
I need to leave, to unsee this, to forget their backs rising and falling with the weight of each stroke. To forget the sight of the whip hitting Ben’s back. But my legs won’t obey; they’re not mine anymore. They’re frozen, and I’m just the soul trapped inside, screaming to break free.
Suddenly, the lashes cease, and a heavy silence falls like a shroud over the room. Alistair raises his head, and as he speaks, his voice is commanding and eerily calm.
“Our resolve must not falter. The blood we spill today fortifies our bond for the trials to come.”
I press my back against the icy wall of the tunnel, my heart hammering in my chest. Panic claws at me that they’ll find me here spying on them, but I’m rooted in place, compelled to understand this macabre scene.
Are they some sort of cult? Is this what power looks like behind closed doors?
The questions swirl in my mind, a maddening whirlpool that refuses to spit out any answers.
Alistair continues, “The pain we endure cleanses us, strengthens us.”
I’ve stumbled upon a secret so vast and insidious that it might swallow me whole. My brain begs me to move, to leave, but my body disobeys, transfixed by the chilling ritual.
sect.
My breath comes in short gasps as I turn on my heels, the word ‘sect’ echoing in my head like some sinister mantra. Alistair’s voice when he dropped that term casually during that eavesdropped conversation flashes through my mind. That same word leapt out from the pages of a dusty tome I poured over for the speech, a speech that now seems trivial in comparison.
Move.
My flimsy footwear slips slightly on the stone beneath me as I scramble back up the tunnel. The voices fade behind me, their low hum replaced by the thundering of my heart in my ears. God, what have Istumbled into? These men, with their secret pains and hidden marks, they’re not who I thought they were.
But who did I think they were? I don’t really know them.
“Shit, shit, shit...” I mutter under my breath, each step a desperate bid for distance. The damp air of the tunnel feels thick and cloying, wrapping around me like a shroud. I should’ve stayed out, locked away in my room, safe from whatever madness this is.
But would I be safe not knowing? Or more in danger?
The faint light at the end of the tunnel calls to me. But it’s not just the dark that I’m running from—it’s the realisation that these men, the ones I’ve studied with, laughed with,kissedand other things,might just be monsters cloaked in human skin.
I burst out of the tunnel door and press it closed, panting. They’re a sect of some kind, something old and dangerous, and right now, they’re just floors away. How can I look at them the same way after this?
“Fuck,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder as I hurry out of the understairs cupboard and shut the door as quietly as I can, feeling the weight of a thousand questions pressing down on me—questions I’m too scared to answer. I lean against the wall, trying to calm the tremor in my hands and the dread in my gut.
There is a grave darkness that lurks beneath the elite, glossy, polished KnightsGate University surface.
Something tells me that this runs a lot deeper than this house. Buthowdeep? Do I have the guts to find out, or am I better off sticking my head in the sand?
34
CHARLES
Iblink, and the shadows in the corner of the underground chamber shift. My gaze is locked on the place where I saw Ever peeking out from behind the corner as we engaged in the act of self-flagellation.
