The Trials of the Jinx

A kind stranger

The dizziness faded relatively quickly, enabling her to sit up in her dark cell without feeling like she was on an inescapable carousel. The fog, on the other hand, was not so unyielding and held onto her for a while. It is still a little hard to make out sounds and shapes, but Kel is feeling better. She just wished she knew what happened. Everything after her fall off the slab is a blur.

She places her hand on her heart, feeling the rhythm return to a steady beat. Her finger brushes over a chain. She almost forgot about it. A silver star hangs just above her collar bone. On her sixteenth birthday, her brother gave it to her as a gift. It was such a surprise to everyone. He had been saving his allowance for a few months to be able to get her that star. It was their little secret message. When he was a little boy, he was terrified of thunderstorms and would sneak into her room and climb into her bed for comfort. She would hold him tight and whisper in his ear that just beyond those clouds lie a beautiful blanket of stars that would soon come out and give him back his peaceful dreams. She misses the brilliant lights floating across the sky. She misses her brother, her parents, and even her co-workers.

The harsh stone digs into her back, but she welcomes it. It helps her to ground herself. The rough grain pressing against her skin keeps her thoughts from plummeting into the black hole of the drug.

In the darkness of the cell, there is nothing to do but wait. Wait for her captors to continue with whatever they have in store for her. She's not sure how much time has passed, but her rumbling stomach tells her it's been too long. The dizziness returns, this time as a result of low blood sugar.

She tries to distract herself, but in a black, empty room it is proven to be difficult.

Thinking about home only forms a lump in her throat, and thinking of a way to escape only ends in dead ends every time.

She lays down on the ground, only to have the feeling intensify tenfold.

She is interrupted by the sound of a pebble bouncing against the stone. A second later she sees the pebble rolling into her cell through a hole inside the wall. The hole is just a bit bigger than her fist. With a grunt she manages to crawl to the opening, laying flat on her stomach to see what it leads to. Blackness fills the space, making it impossible to see much further than a few inches.

"Hello," a sweet voice flows through the hole in a soft whisper.

"Hi," she returns.

"I'm Evette."

"Kel."

She hears some shuffling coming from the other side before Evette speaks again.

"Reach your hand in."

It is a strange request, but her melodic voice sets any doubts she might have aside, and she complies. She squeezes her hand in and feels a few scraps as she does so. Her fingers brush against the warm skin of the other girl. She can feel something in her hand and take it. Once her arm is out, she has a look at the gift the girl gave. Bread. Her mouth watered at the sight, and she fought every urge to dive in.

"It's okay," the girl says as if hearing her thoughts.

"We get fed more now since we don't meet her standards."

It is all Kell needs to devour the piece of bread. A soft moan ripples from her mouth. It's not much, but it will ease the tension in her stomach for a while.

"Thank you," she whispers once she's finished.

"You're welcome."

She lies her head onto her arm close to the opening, savouring the salty taste in her mouth.

"What are you?"

"I'm a witch, you?"

It is a difficult question to answer since not a lot of other beings know of the wolves' curse, so she just gives her the basic answer.

"Werewolf."

"How long have you been here?"

"A little over a year."

Kel’s jaw drops. She can't imagine being trapped here for that long. She chews on the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with something to say. I'm sorry. That's terrible.

She is now in a similar position.

"Can you do me a favour?" Evette asks.

"Anything."

She laughs at her reply, and Kel has to admit she only recognized the irony after the words left her mouth.

"I… We… If you hear anything about what she has planned for us now that she doesn't want us anymore, can you tell me?"

It breaks her heart. She can hear the fear in Evette's voice.

"What I do know is that people have been going missing for almost 5 years and none of them has been found."

It's a good-news-bad-news situation. It can mean Lyssa doesn't kill any of her victims, but it also means that even after five years, no one has been able to find them. She knows it too because Kel doesn't hear another word from her.

Her cell door swings open with a burst of light, making her flinch. She is pulled to her feet and dragged into the hall.

"I can walk!" She yells at him. Hell's grip tightens on her arm briefly, before letting her go. She obediently walks behind him as he guides them through the maze of hallways. He stops before an iron door. He pulls the handle and slides it open. Kel tries to look inside, but his body is blocking her view. She doesn't wait long, however, when he grabs her arm and yanks her inside. The quick movement has her head spinning for a moment. The small piece of bread has done what it can, and now her body is trembling for more.

Hell's grip on her arm is tight, helping her stay securely on her feet. She knows a bruise is already forming beneath his fingers, but she is more focused on her heart hammering away in her chest. She is battling for control over her fear.

You are strong. You can beat this.

But her reassuring thoughts just don't seem to help calm her nerves. Blood is pounding in her ears. A tremor is working its way through her body.

Hell drags her deeper into the room and places her in a chair. She looks around and sees a desk with papers strewn about and a screen with lines crossing across it. She believes it to be a surveillance monitor, but the screens are black.

"You are going to face 6 trials," he announces, drawing Kel’s attention back to him.

"Give it your all, and we should have no problems."

"What happens if I fail?" she asks, crossing her arms across her chest to keep them from shaking.

Hell leans against the desk, his hands gripping the edges. "You will become a prisoner to this realm."

"How many do I need to fail?"

He gives her a grim smile: "Just one."

"And if I pass?"

"You'll be the first."

He didn't answer her question, and she has a feeling he won't. Hell busies himself with a paper, taking notes. She can't help but be mesmerized by his smooth skin, with thick veins running over his fingers and hands. Those hands have probably been worked to the bone if his mother had anything to do with it. She wonders how old he is. He looks quite young, but then again, so does his mother, and by her manner of speaking, she appears much older than she looks.

"How old are you?" she questions, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Without lifting his pen, he answers: "30."

The answer surprises her. He is a lot younger than she thought he would be.

"What's in it for you?"

He drops his pen and stares at the wall for a while.

"What?"

"What do you get out of all of this? Your mother clearly wants world domination or something, but she doesn't strike me as the sharing type. I doubt she'll ever let you be anything more than you are to her now."

She can almost see the cogs turning in his head. The veins in his arms seem to grow and pulse. Tension fills the air, and she knows she crossed a line.

When will she stop running her mouth?

She grew up shielded and coddled. She loves her parents, but it wasn't the life she wanted to live, so she opened her mouth and began a lifelong journey of voicing her opinions. At first, no one dared contradict her, so she spoke louder, daring them. She revelled in her confidence, and soon everyone started respecting her and even challenged her.

Hell, on the other hand, resorts to more drastic measures. She is pulled into one of the adjoining rooms, and her stomach drops. A steel chair is in the centre of the room with iron restraints on the armrests, the front two legs and around the back. Underneath the chair is a grate, and she does not want to know what sort of liquid flows usually flows into it.

Hell takes no time to strap her down. Her chest is burning as her heart races. The thunderous roar in her ears is deafening.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles. If she has any liquid left in her body she knows every last drop will be filling her eyes, but they are as dry as the Sahara desert.

She hears water beating into a tin; then it goes silent. She waits, pulling her head as far as her neck will allow seeing, but he stays out of her line of sight.

Suddenly, her hair gets yanked back, and a rag is placed over her mouth. She stares at him in bewilderment, pleading at him with her eyes. She catches a shift in his eyes, but it disappears in an instant.

Then came the water.