One Up

Chapter 16

For the last few days, we've been thrown into the fearscapes. My fears haven't been severe, but two more players had been killed by their's. I watched helplessly through the glass prison as their bodies were carried away.

We are never allowed to speak to each other, but I've started understanding Sage's eyes as communication. A certain set to his eyes will ask me if I'm okay. As long as I am here, it will always be no.

My mind drifts back to the last couple of days as I stare at the plain, white ceiling. I'm afraid to sleep, because dreams of Damien keep me awake. It is only a certain amount of time before I have to face that fear. My heart constricts at the thought.

A knock resonates at the door before the familiar squeal of the hinges echo through the chamber. I don't even have to look to know that it is time to go back to the prison of fear.

"Come on, miss," the guard says. I don't even know why they try to be formal. I'm going to die here anyway. Despite that notion, I rise, allowing the guard to cuff me and lead me back through the long corridors. I feel goosebumps rise as the chilled air caresses my fair skin.

Looking around as more prisoners are extracted from their rooms, I realize how silent it has become. Nothing but the footfalls echo against the white-wash walls. The sound constricts my heart. Everyone is giving up, and as painful as it is, I realize the maybe I am too. No one even looks at one another as we walk into the warehouse full of glass coffins.

Once again, the female scientist awaits us. Today, her arms are crossed and a small smile spreads across her dark features. When all of us are in position, she speaks. "Welcome back all. Today we will begin phase 2 of your fear tests. These fears will be stronger and harder to cope with, so do what you can to survive." Prisoners glance back and forth between each other. I cast my gaze toward Sage and find that his eyes are already looking into mine. His eyes read that he is worried. I give him a nod, confirming that I am too. He quickly looks toward the guard holding him, and when he finds the guard distracted, he signs his hand in an 'okay' symbol. Holding my hands in front, I signal the sign back. His comfort helps me ease the overbearing thought that there may be no way out of this. When I look into his eyes, there's that voice in my head that tells me that there just might be.

"You may report to your stations," she says, gesturing toward the fearscapes. The guard holding me nudges me forward, and I reluctantly take the lead toward my cell. Something in my heart tells me that I will not like today's fear.

I get the equipment set up quickly, not risking the timer dipping after five minutes. I've already seen the outcome. It only takes a few moments for my fear to come into play. I close my eyes, scared of the outcome. Scared of what awaits in the deeper crevice of my mind.

When I open my eyes once more, I am no longer in the cube. Instead, I am lying on a bed. When I try to move my hands, I find that my wrists are bound to the bed posts. Moving my feet, I find that they are bound as well. Anxiety constricts my heart and I start to panick. How can I fight this fear with my hands tied? My mind wonders worriedly.

Taking a deep breath, I silence the anguish, before taking a look at my surroundings. The soft duvet beneath me will provide no way to escape currently, but if I get out of these binds, I could use it as a distraction. I let my eyes wander to the dark, mahogany nightstand beside me. When they land on an open switchblade, my heart gives a relieved flutter. The only problem is getting to it.

I check the restraints. Giving them a small tug, I find that they are fastened tight to my wrists. I try moving my body in hopes that I can bite the knife but find that it is no use. As I try to find a way out, the door opens, and when I look, my heart stops.

Standing in the door frame with crossed arms and a wicked smile is no one other than Damien.

He casts a hungry glance over my way, taking in every detail he can. His almost black eyes go from my eyes, down past the thin nightgown I wear.

This Damien is worse than the one I faced. He is wilder than the one I dealt with, his brown hair disheveled and his football jersey wrinkled. When I steal a glance at his face, I see claw marks. My claw marks.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the dirty s**t," he says with arrogance. I flinch when he takes a step toward me. He laughs, taking another step. "Don't worry, Samara, I'm not going to hurt you," he starts, walking until he beside the bed. When he leans down close to me, I quickly close my eyes. "I just want a taste," he whispers into my ear.

"D-Damien, I don't want to do this," I stammer, my heart racing in my chest. His face contorts with anger. He raises his hand and slaps me. Tears sting my eyes, my breath coming in fast as I start to panick. "You will want this. I will make you want this," he says. I watch in dismay as he climbs on top of me, taking his hands as he fumbles with his belt.

I quickly look toward the knife, wishing that I could use it to stab him. It's no use when my hands are tied though. Then an idea hits me.

"Damien?" I ask, looking him dead in the eyes. His wicked smile plays on his face when I ask for him. "What?" he asks.

"I might want this if you untie me."

I watch his eyes dart from me to the binds on my wrist. He looks uncertain, so I raise my hips and wriggle against his groin for encouragement. Giving him a pouting look, I say "Please,"

As if a light switch is flipped, he quickly moves to untie my hands. When they are untied, he moves to untie my feet. When his eyes are down below me, I use the time to grab the knife. He doesn't even notice when my hands move underneath the pillow.

When he comes back up to my body, I take the opportunity to flip him on his back. He gives off a small purr as I wriggle my hips against his exposed groin. Moving my lips down to his ear, I nibble gently, letting my hand wander to beneath the pillow. When I feel the hilt of the knife, I smile. "Tell me something," I whisper seductively in his ear. He groans. "What, Sam?"

I slowly ease the knife out of the pillow, keeping it at the ready. His eyes never follow my movements. Instead, they meet mine with longing. He whimpers as I wriggle my hips against his member once more. "Do you like this?" I ask him. He nods. When I grasp his member in my hand, I ask again. He nods again, closing his eyes to the pleasure.

"Oh please," he whispers.

"Please what?" I ask.

He bites his lip before raising his body against mine and whispering in my ear. "Give it to me."

With a smile, I use one hand to push him back down, and with a seductive "Okay," I raise the other hand, and plunge the knife into his chest.

Damien lets out a blood-curdling scream. I quickly fling myself off the bed, but when I land, I find that I am no longer in the bedroom. Instead, I am back in the glass containment.

I quickly throw off the headset, not minding the rip as the electrodes are yanked from my head. Tears flow down my cheeks quickly as I sink to the cold floor. I cover my head as I cry, not wanting anyone to see me.

I must have stayed like that for a long while, because before I can register anything, my guard is hauling me out of the fearscape. As we make our way back to my room, I play the fear in my head, and even though I survived the fear, I know that it will haunt me long after.