Page 36 of The Killing Game

Each inch feels like miles through shards of glass. The excruciating pain radiates from my mangled limb, racking my body with shivers. It makes it nearly impossible to move forward. I’m going to go into shock before I make it out of here.

“Please. I’m sorry,” I choke out. “Help me!”. The words don’t hold the sincerity I want them to, rage still lingers in my voice. It doesn’t waver, my words too strong in their conviction. I’m staring down my hunter with hatred and primal fear.

Maybe I can convince the killer to have mercy. If only for a second, I could have a chance. I could make it out. I could save my leg and survive a little longer.

And then I can hunt this motherfucker down and hang them with their own intestines while they watch me feed their severed cock to the wildlife.

The killer stands over me, the pickax hung low by their side. Hollow eyes stare at me through the bloodied mask. They turn their head to one side and the other. Another familiar movement that clicks somewhere deep within my mind. Contemplating me with whatever sick fetish they have. The smell of blood, dirt, and sweat fills the space. The air is heavy between us. I’m entranced in their gaze. My deadly fate, only inches from me.

A low, masculine chuckle emanates from the angel of death above me. The killer kneels down and pulls me up by the throat. I yelp in surprise, whimpering under their tight hold that would in any other situation make me dripping wet. Their right knee pins my good leg to the ground while their left knee tucks between my legs, digging into my crotch. The pain I was feeling escalates to one hundred. The killer pulls me close enough I can feel their damp breath on my face. Blood crusted fingers tighten around my neck, making it harder to breathe before they finally speak.

“Micro peen, huh? That’s not what you were saying earlier when I was deep inside of you, making you cum all over my cock. Now be a good girl and shut the fuck up, Ashe. It’s time to die.” The voice is deep and guttural. I stare in horror as the killer slides the bloodied mask over their face to rest on top of dark hair.

The familiar face above me smiles.

My blood curdles.

Time stands still. I can’t move my eyes from theirs. The amber pools that I found my release in just a few hours ago are black. They stare down at me with indifference. The moment we shared earlier is gone, replaced by a murderous haze.

The room begins spinning. My vision starts to blur. Black spots cover every inch of the room. I’m spiraling into oblivion. My mental state can’t take the scene unfolding in front of me. How poetic— the murder obsessed author goes out at the hands of their lover who turns out to be a serial killer.

The inside of my mind feels like a deep trance. I’m grasping at the killer’s strong arms, trying to anchor myself to reality.

It’s not my time yet. I won’t go. I can’t. I refuse to go down without a fight.

I choke out one last word before darkness takes me over.

“Jason.”

NINETEEN

“It’s time to wake up, Ashe.”

The voice is muffled, lost in a distant fog. I can’t pull myself back to reality. I’m floating in my nightmares, running from an imaginary killer.

The heat of an object making contact with my cheek raises me from my unconscious state. Footsteps disappear into the distance.

“Wake the fuck up, Ashe. It’s time to play.”

My eyes flutter open, they strain against the light above me. Where the fuck am I? I try to move my body to sit up, but I can’t. My arms and legs are tied back. A hot sting radiates from my right side.

My leg. I almost died! I should be dead. Why the hell am I not dead right now?

I’m thrashing against my restraints. It’s the same red rope Jason brought at the beginning of the trip.

Jason.

My whole body is stuck in place. Metal digs into my skin as I fight against the restraints. I’m very aware that my clothes are missing from the chill that hovers over my exposed breasts. My eyes begin to focus.

I’m in the cabin tied to the coffee table in the living room.

The lights are glaring overhead. I turn my head to shield from the unusually bright light. I’m faced with the discarded body of my dead friend slumped over the couch. A puddle of blood pooled underneath the feet of the soiled furniture. Tears well behind my eyes as I stare at the scene of what my horrific future will hold.

A shuffle in the corner grabs my attention.

I look over. Jason is sitting in one of the chairs at the window.

“There she is. Welcome back to the living, little bat. How kind of you to finally join us.”