BOOM!
By the time I looked up, she’d already fallen at the feet of the man. There was a red puddle quickly forming around her. The bullet had come from the entrance of the auditorium. They’d shot her in the head.
It was my fault, I should have known better.
I dragged myself over to her, not caring how much it hurt, how weak and dizzy I felt. “You didn’t deserve this. You were agood girl. I promise I’ll kill as many of them as I can. I promise. I’m so fucking sorrrrrrrryyyyyyy!” I wailed, rocking her dead body in my quaking arms as my tears poured from me.
I was crying for all of us, for what we could have been had they just let us be. They say grief hits you like a freight train out of nowhere, and that’s how it felt. There was nothing else left in me but grief for the girls we used to be and could’ve been.
The asshole she was supposed to kill came for me, trying to tear her from my hold, but I fought him. He tried again and I bit him.
“Enoughhhh!” I screeched at the top of my lungs. “You don’t get to touch her!”
“She’s just a dead slave, and soon, you’ll be too. Release her,” he yelled.
“No!”
I fought him for her. Again and again, he hit me and yanked at her body, but I refused to let her go. I wasn’t thinking, but I knew he should not touch her. In the background, the guards were approaching the stage. There was a ruckus coming from the crowd. When he finally tore her away, I saw the triumphant smile on his face. Thank God I saw it because it lit my rage enough to take the knife from her other hand and sink it into his neck.
The only sounds in the room were a united gasp and the bullet that boomed through the hall. Then boots stomped onto the stage.
“Who’s the dead one now, asshole?” I was only able to whisper my question. His eyes locked on mine.
I couldn’t breathe, but I calmly pulled the knife out and stabbed him again, making sure to cut across, not just plunge down, so every important artery would be sliced on that side. The blood sprayed onto my face and shoulders but also poured down his chest. When I took the knife out again, I found myselfno longer having the strength to hold it. I heard the clatter, and my legs faltered. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I would have done anything for a gulp of oxygen.
35. From Dawn to Twilight
MAGDALENA
“This is ridiculous! Why don’t you let me take her to the medical unit so that I can reseal her wounds, make sure she’s not internally bleeding, then you can do whatever it is you’re going to do?” Dr. Miller protested as the guards dropped me on the huge cleared wooden office desk, then held me down so he could start working on my wounds. I wished I could’ve stayed unconscious, but as always, my body had other plans.
“Since when do I have to explain myself to you?” the man who’d threatened me two days prior in the hospital unit asked. “Just seal her up and leave.”
“Lord Adler.” The man was walking away to meet his friends when Doctor Miller called him. He only turned half his body toward us. “Remember, I need her alive for the harvesting.”
Harvesting?My eyes widened while my mind raced. Sir had warned me they would do this, that they would harvest my organs and sell them. It was best like that. I didn’t want to continue to live, not like this.
Lord Adler nodded once, then walked away. I stared out the window, and when I couldn’t stand the pain, I squeezed my eyes tight while breathing in short puffs. The worst part was dreadinghow much worse the pain would be once he worked on my new gunshot wound.
He resealed the old one quickly, placing thick bandages, then turned me over to work on the new one. There were two men with their rough hands on my lower back, pinning me. As soon as I smelled the sterilizer, my panting got louder. I gripped the edge of the desk, trying to prepare, and then it splashed all over. I gasped at the stinging and burning. Every muscle in my body tensed, then I stopped breathing while trying to count how many pine trees filled the forest.
“Oh, and, hey, Doctor?” Lord Adler called from the other side of the room. I didn’t bother turning to look at the asshole.
“Yes?” Dr. Miller responded while sanitizing the wound.
“Don’t anesthetize her.”
Dr. Miller murmured a cuss, sighed, then replied, “Of course not, sir.” He was working fast, mumbling about how the wound was too damn close to my lung. His rushed work meant he was rougher than usual. Any touch from his fingers sent me in a spiral of pain, starting with stars bursting in my view and gritting my teeth.
I screeched from the forceps stabbing my wound, searching for the bullet.
He whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll hold out for as long as possible. Hopefully, they’ll get bored and go away.” After the bullet clanked in a metal tray, I was left lightheaded, sweating and trembling at the same time, and hot tears of agony slipped out of my eyes.
“We got ourselves a screamer,” someone joked from the group of lords on the other side of the room, but I didn’t even have the energy to look at them. I was exhausted, staring at the carpet, wondering how I’d survive the next hours. I kept waking with no idea of how many minutes had passed.
“Dr. Miller?” I whispered.
“Yes, dear.” The way he spoke to me consoled me, made me feel safe, but I knew better.
