This is a fanfiction of a book written by an awesome writer in Wattpad. This isn't an official part of the series.
Now that that's clear... let's start!
Pitch black. Aside from the appearance of little snow-like particles, it was pitch black.
And I was in the middle of it all. It was funny because I could see clearly. With an undying urge, I started to walk, aimlessly, listlessly, without knowing where to go. I could tell my eyes were blank and that I was walking like an undead corpse. Around me was like an endless path, like a void of some sort and I felt as though I was walking for hours and hours and yet I couldn’t feel my legs complaining.
Where was I?
I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t care. A mad grin crept up my face and I stopped in my tracks. Bending low and gripping my head with both hands, I began laughing uncontrollably. Droplets formed on the dark floor before my feet.
And then I stopped. For a moment I was calm. I drifted in and out of panic before coming to a sudden internalisation. Straightening myself and shrugging my shoulders, I said. “Twenty-two years is shorter than I thought.” Again, I grinned and look behind me. It wasn’t just an ordinary look. For what I saw was different.
And shit, did my life looked fucked up.
“Evik,” my mother held me by the shoulder. I looked up at the woman in front of us before glancing back up at her for reassurance. “Meet your Auntie Elise.”
Slowly, I smiled widely, offering one little hand to her in greeting. Auntie Elise bent low to reach my level and patted my head lovingly. She seems to be nice. I could’ve been patted and squeezed and pinched in the cheek more if it wasn’t for a loud bark coming from behind. I wiggled from my mother and aunt’s hold and ran towards the golden retriever, hugging it tight and calling its name.
A loud gunshot drifted in the air. And my dog lied dead on the floor. I didn’t cry. I was too shock to move, too scared to make a noise. My mother yanked me up and made a run for it.
I remember crashing on the ground and seeing my mother lying on the dirty ground… probably unconscious… probably dead.
The taste of dirt and grass filled my mouth and my eyes stung from the dust. Either that or I already started to cry. I sat, pain shooting up my arm but ignored it nevertheless. I got to wake my mother up. I didn’t know how but I should. People, I don’t know who, loomed over me and I was damn helpless. I could see my aunt on one side, trying to stand despite one bleeding leg. She launched herself towards me and ran.
I didn’t know where we were going but my aunt was just running. Sometimes, droplets of hot grief would drip on my face and I couldn’t help crying with her. All my aunt wanted was for us to escape. We had to hide.
Something—like a strong gust of wind—hit me in the face and I was in the black void once again. I sat on the floor, all hope abandoning me. There was no way I could return. This was inevitable.
What Revelle said was true.
The disease is—
I lied on the ground and closed my eyes. Okay void, show me everything you can.
“Mom.” I hold onto the frame of the door while adjusting my left shoe. “I have to… go out.”
“Where are you going?” I saw her wiping her hands on her apron.
I put a hand inside my pocket, feeling the cold metallic skin of my phone. ‘Come see me at the Hotel Jestaldt, 2:30 PM sharp.’ The man’s voice was still etched inside my head. I winced at the reminder and began aiming for the door. “Job offering.” I shortly replied. Balling my fists and biting my lower lip until it bled, walking with both hands on my pocket, I never looked back. Because looking back would make things harder. All I wanted was to get this over with.
I may not be able to return but this is better than staying and letting what happened years ago repeat.
He pushed the paper gently on the table towards me and clasped his hands together, facing me with a small grin.
I hesitantly grabbed the pen to sign when I caught sight of the last line. I didn’t particularly read the whole contract, thought it was just any ordinary deals but—
I swallowed, finally forcing myself to read the rest and, realising there’s no turning back, signed my name.
The moment I was done, he raised his hand and flicked his fingers. The two men I ignored all the while suddenly moved towards me, grabbing me by the arms and dragging me away from him. “What’s the meaning of this?” I shouted. I knew the futility of my struggle but I didn’t intend to be hauled defencelessly to who knows where.
I gritted my teeth and howled, “Frau!”
Pants torn, my shirt falling into pieces, the gash on my back still fresh and sore, I sat quietly in the corner of my cellar. I was lucky enough to be allowed to keep my glasses when everything else had been taken: the glasses my mom gave me when I turned college.
The bluish black marks on my body had multiplied each day, so much that I became blue all over. All of a sudden, I lurched forward, bile coming up my throat and I wretched. Blood. Coughing up blood never had been good to anybody. Not even me. But then again, I was. I slid down on the floor and lied on my arm. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I was often awakened by the metal gates being opened, afraid that mine would. Sometimes, relief would just wash over me when it was someone else’s. Even though all of us where one metal bar away from each other, I never really wanted to speak to anyone of them. Not until he did.
I ignored him at first but he was very insistent, very nosy… very cheery.
“Hey.” Again with him.
This time I slowly got up, turn my gaze to stare at him, adjusting my glasses once to see his face clearly. “What?”
His smile spread wide. “You’re in for a surprise later.”
“What?” I repeat, this time, confused. I should’ve known what was coming for me next. My cellar was opened and I was dragged into the room once again.
Hungry, probably close to dying, I didn’t even try to break free. My hands were chained up as usual, feet restrained in metal.
For the duration of my stay, cold had been a close friend, not to mention darkness and crawling hunger. But today was particularly different.
Cold water. Melted wax. A voice telling me what one thousand minus seven is. It should’ve been all normal.
Whips. Sticks. Again with the subtraction.
“874…” I shouted, my lungs craving for proper air.
It’s a thing they let us do. They let our brains active, so that even under constant physical torment, we still get to keep our sanity.
I took in ragged breaths one after another.
A blurred image of something bright closed in on me.
I yelled. The red-hot metal buried deep into my skin. I should’ve passed out but I couldn’t. The pain was keeping me awake. The smell of burning skin wafted in the air. Bile rose up my throat but I tried not to throw up. I focused on it to ignore the pain. My body convulsed, trying to break free, my wrists bled from rubbing against the hard metal chains and my feet started to go numb from trying to pull out the cuffs.
The metal disappeared but the heat remained. Dropping my head close to my chest, my eyeballs began to roll backwards. But I wasn’t dead yet. I wasn’t even unconscious yet. The process of drifting into darkness was too slow. I could barely hear someone clapping and my name being called.
‘Ah, the two in the corner seems priceless.’ Darting my eyes on the left, I studied the last two boys being lined for auction. The first one was a skinny lad, glasses on, tousled hair and… already marked with the Creed’s symbol. The other had a better build than the first and I could see him grinning despite having his head down. He was marked too but he looked as though he couldn’t sense any fear. In fact, he seems enjoying the event, whereas the first dreaded this day would come. ‘Perhaps they had gotten into him.’
When the auctioneer motioned for them, they were brought forward, like every other boy sold earlier. I raised my hand to bid, surprising everyone around me. I was younger than any other men and women present in this underground auction but who cares? This was the Black Market. Nobody cares about what business you’re doing or even ask why the hell you need two slaves.
After a few bids, I won them for an incredibly high price. I took them with me to a cheap flat where I could instigate the deal in a less formal place. Besides, bringing two beaten up, starved and marked boys in a swanky hotel would raise suspicions.
Letting my maids give them proper clothing and telling them to take a bath was easy enough. They were more than happy to oblige anyway. But when it came down to signing the deal—
“I won’t.” the one with the glasses said defiantly.
A smile formed on my lips. “Do you really think I’d do the same as that old geezer, Frau?” I leaned forward, gazing upwards to meet his gaze. “I’m here to give you a proper job. Better than entertaining mad doctors and brute scoundrels. Just sign the contract and your life will turn upside down.”
‘For as long as you do live, you will remain employed under my hand. Being disloyal will result in death, this is your warning.’
He was definitely eyeing the last line and I encourage him with a soft nudge on the hand. “That’s just to make sure you won’t do anything funny. Besides, you will be fed well, clothed well and housed well. You can’t ask for anything else.”
He still looked unconvinced.
“What happened to you back there will never bother you again. I will let you live normally. And it’s just one sign away.”
He picked the pen up, ready to sign his name.
“Sign and you’ll never have to go back to that place ever again.”
“Ah, so Evik, it is.” Inwardly grinning at how fell right into my hands, a subtle realisation hit me. He’s mine… and so is Rassello.
A sigh escaped my lips the moment they went out of the room. At least the other one was easier to convince.
It wasn’t a pleasant sound but I was used to it. I have them trained to use guns. It was a bit of a compulsory thing for the job and honestly, it was rather amusing to watch both of them holding a gun for the first time.
Rassello was a bit of a clumsy shooter but Evik nonetheless was a fast learner. I could see in his eyes the sharpness and keenness of someone who would want to kill but after putting the gun down, he would turn back to his calm, reserved self. Perhaps what he told me about subtracting seven from a certain number helped him retain his sanity… whereas Rassello, or Rass as I want to call him, lost a little bit of his, making him this childish, sometimes overcharged and happy-go-lucky lad.
Perhaps they would be a perfect pair. Polar opposites. One annoyed by the other and the other simply being his silly self.
It would be a joy seeing the two of them work. Because even if they do look like untrained men, with how things are going now, they might just be the perfect duo to fulfil one of the most perilous jobs I have to offer.