BOUND TO HIM BY FORCE

31. TEAR MYSELF APART PART I

As I was leading the group to war, I was also leading the cleanup crew as injured and as tired as I was but I never complained. I had taken so many things for granted in my old life and I was not doing it ever again.

We dragged the bodies as instructed, staring at our sins, staring at our cruelty and throwing them in the large fire that had been lit with no other purpose than to clean our hands and rid of all we had done.

The land was left red, sprinklers set on, washing away all the blood, as if it had not even happened.

The night crept to morning, Samuel right next to me. He did not say anything, never said anything, but worked with no fail. There was no time to be sad, time to cry over what we all did, what I did. With how Max and Brain were happy, we were forced to smile too, claiming a victory I did not want to claim but I did it either or. I was fighting with my conscience. It was a battle I was winning. When it said right, I went left, erasing the line between right and wrong. I would not be bound by ethics because I was living a life with no rules at all.

All the bodies were bent. Max and Brain were so happy they let the men off the hook, even letting them drink a couple of beers.

Being in a state where my senses would not be operating at their maximum best was not my M.O.

My body turned, moving away from the men sitting around the large fire and laughing at the stories they were telling, as if they were not burning dead bodies of the people they had just killed. The smell clogged the air, the smell of flesh roasting and it had me queasy, yet, they did not mind it at all. My toiletries were picked up, walking to the animal stables where I stripped off my clothes and began cleaning my body. I did not know what I was thinking, everything foreign to me.

The blood danced away, staring at it pool at my feet with the water collecting into a puddle.

It was a lovely colour, wasn’t it?

My shampoo was picked up, washing my short hair. I actually liked it short, feeling free.

My face was next, then the rest of my body, leaving me clean yet some of my wounds were still open. I dried up my body, oiled it then wore a clean t-shirt, reminding me that I had to do my laundry. A pair of black cargo pants were pulled on then I slid my feet into my slippers, taking my basket and making my way through to my cell. The laughs got louder, the fire getting higher. I stepped in my cell building, walking past all the empty cells to mine, only to stop as I reached the bar door. My eyes took in Max as he sat on my bed. Next to him was a tray of food then a small basket which I could not make out its contents.

I said nothing, walking in and placing my things to turn and walk to him. Him and I had our own language which did not need us to talk at all.

I sat down, staring at him then the food.

I did notice that I got better food than most and got larger potions the better I did in my training and I guess Max was happy with me because a large steak was staring back at me.

The morgue had everything you would imagine.

Max and Brain lived like kings. I had not seen their quarters but they did had a whole wing to themselves. Their office was fit for a billionaire so you would imagine their living quarters. They ate anything they wanted, special chefs just for them yet it made me wonder what they did to get such positions which many would kill for.

I understood their luxurious life though, because they were the muscle of the cartel. They produced the men that fought and they trained the hounds. They broke the men into what Azrail wanted his men to be and that was a skill, I would give them that. I was broken I would admit. They had successfully broken me and welded me back into a monster even they would not be control, soon, I feared.

The tray of food was picked up to my thighs. There was a salad and golden potatoes. A fork and knife was also provided which never happened.

I cut the potatoes, seeing Max thread a needle not far from me. He lit up a gun-light then came near to me.

I continued eating as if I had not seen him. I could not even feel where the food was passing too. I had lost interest in all the things I used to love and I liked that. I wanted to rid of Masha Vasiliev. She was dead to me, a person I could not even relate to.

My sleeves were rolled up then the needle placed right under the large cut with the blood still dripping down. I felt as he collected my skin then stuck the needle in. He went too deep and I knew he had done it on purpose only to pull it out and begin again.

I would have wished to continue eating but I had not wanted the food in the first place, yet, to stop myself from flinching, I picked up the food with the fork which was in my free hand. It took everything in me to keep my hand steady, keep it moving up but it finally reached my mouth, slipping the potato from the fork and chewing it. I chewed on it as if I was chewing on a grenade in my mouth, my head straight, staring at the black bars.

My fork went down, Max finally done. He cut the thread with the suture then twisted it as if to just push me to the edge yet I never gave in. I picked up my salad, eating as if unaffected. He went to my next cut, taking his time and making it dreadfully painful when it wasn’t needed but that was my life. If something wasn't painful then you weren't doing it right.

My plate was left empty, nothing to do than sit and let him stitch me only to reopen the wounds and start afresh, all over again. I did not even want to know the scars which would be left behind.

A pair of feet were heard, rushing in with much urgency and making their way forward until the person stood before my cell door. It was one of the men with his eyes wide as if he had just seen a ghost.

“ Sir, you are needed outside immediately.” The man said, addressing Max who stared at the man with much irritation. The man was sweating, I can tell you that, and it only showed the urgency of the situation. But the fact that we could see through his emotions alarmed me on it’s own. I hope he was new because if not, I knew hell was coming for him.

Max held out the needle and I thought he never would. I would rather stitch myself up than what he had been doing to me.

He stood up, taking my tray and giving it to the man with both of them turning and walking away. I sat in the very dimly lit cell then continued sewing my wounds together. It hurt like hell, groaning and cursing myself for even doing so but soon I was numb from it all.

I turned all around , sewing as much as I could and doing a sh*tty job at that but it would hold.

When done, I cleaned the needle and sutures to put everything back in the basket.

I would have washed my laundry but knowing Max, at four he would want me at the training field which I guess was an hour or two away.

The bed was cleared, my legs raised with me lying back, arms under my head to stare at the concrete ceiling.

There was no way I was sleeping, feeling cold but no way I would get my coat. The silence was deafening, suddenly realizing it was too silent, not hearing the distant laughs from the men sitting by the fire. I chuckled, they did not know Max and Brain well. They were drinking but in a few hours they would all be vomiting out the liquor in the training field.

My eyes closed, just letting myself drift away to nothing but darkness.

My mind was nowhere in particular, avoiding so many faces in my head, avoiding so many voices in my head. The only way I could drown them out was by concentrating on one certain face. The only way was by concentrating on one voice that had me grounded just there and then.

The face was dwindling away, not a face I had seen many times. All the times I had seen it, blood on it, blood all around it thus it was as if his skin was tattooed with blood. Those eyes, eyes where you could see the roaring fires of hell calling at you. Eyes that had a darkness which called to you, drawing you in to die.

It called to me as I lay there, feeling as if my soul was drifting away and daring to follow the call, it so tempting to follow it to the darkness where I would lose myself but there was suddenly a clearing of a voice.

My jaw tightened, a second spent with me still lying before I opened my eyes to the ceiling staring back at me with no life.

My body pushed up, all my muscles protesting and working against me.

My eyes fell across my cell to a man standing just outside. He held himself with much control, his head up high, him staring but as if not seeing.

“ Your presence is requested, Miss.” He said with me frowning.