Madness: A Dark Revenge Romance

INITIATION

Devotion

Sophomore year at Barrington University

Everyone fears something. Whether it be as small as dying alone or as terrifying as drowning to death. It’s part of life. Especially the Lords. It’s all around us. But I’m not afraid of it. It’s inevitable and something that you can’t bargain with.

We are raised to know that in our world, it’s kill or be killed. So when put in this situation, it’s a no-brainer. Have I thought of how I’ll die? Sure. A bullet to the back of the head maybe? Or it might be slow and painful—my skin being ripped from my bones? Maybe someone sets me on fire? Who knows. But either way, when it comes, I’ll accept it.

So what am I afraid of if death isn’t it? I’m afraid of failing those that I love. Of letting my brothers down and leaving them to fend for themselves. I hate being unable to protect the ones who rely on me. And that’s the only reason I’m even doing these fucking initiations. Because they need me to help them through this shitty life we’ve been damned to live until someone takes us out.

I follow my father through the basement of Carnage. He came and woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to get dressed. It’s time. Another year, another test to prove I’m worthy to have his last name and one day run this hell.

We make our way through the plastic strip curtains and come to a stop when I see two women hanging from the ceiling in the open room. They’re a few feet apart, both stripped naked with their arms above their heads, secured with chains wrapped around their wrists. Black hoods cover both of their heads, and large metal collars are around their necks, secured in place to keep them from lowering their heads.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves. What the fuck is this? The initiation is supposed to be for me. My fear. Not anyone else.

A Lord stands between them with his back to me, dressed in his cloak and mask. He’s sharpening a knife. The sound wouldn’t normally bother me, but right now, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

My father turns to me. “You have a choice.”

“A choice?” I echo his words. Such a foreign concept. Because if I had a choice, I wouldn’t fucking be here.

The Lord sharpening his knife turns to face us, the knife in his hand. It’s me or them. That’s the only explanation I can think of. They cut them, or me. “Me.” I step forward, not even needing to think about it.

My father lets out a growl, and the Lord wearing the mask makes sweat bead across my head when he speaks. “It’s not that kind of choice. One of these women is innocent…the other is not.” He places the tip of the knife on the woman hanging on the right and runs it from her hip and along her ribs. She’s gasping, her body shaking as she fights the restraints. Her muffled sobs fill the basement, and her feet kick out as she tries to stand on her tiptoes, but they’ve got her strung up at just the right height that her pink painted toes barely touch. “You choose which one lives or dies.”

I look at my father.

“Make a decision, Haidyn.” His voice is as cold as the room, as if he knows I’m questioning him. His eyes watch the one on the left. She’s smaller, sickly looking. Shorter in height and she’s sobbing in her gag and hood by the way her body trembles uncontrollably.

They’re both covered in bruises and dirt. It makes me wonder what happened to them before they were dragged down here in the basement.

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand.” My father snaps at me. “You choose which one dies and which one lives.”

I run a hand through my hair aggressively. I figured they’d bury me alive…stick me in a pit full of snakes. Not this. It doesn’t make sense.

“You have one minute,” the Lord behind the mask states, and he turns to flip an hourglass and my heart races as I watch the sand start to fall through the center. “If you don’t make a decision by the time the timer is done, they both will die.”

The girls start screaming into their hoods and gags, and I take a step back. My eyes go back and forth between them. The Lord taunts them both with the tip of his knife, slowly running it over their flushed skin, nicking them both in various places. Not deep enough to kill them but enough to make them bleed.

My eyes go to the hourglass, and I see it’s almost out. I look at my father, and he’s still glaring at the girl on the left. I say girl because she looks younger than the other one. Her skin is less touched by years of abuse. The other has tracks along her arms and legs.

I step forward and speak. “Kill the one on my right.”

The Lord doesn’t even take a second to think about it. He slams the knife into the woman’s chest before he yanks it out, and the blood pours down her body as it sags in the chains. He reaches up and allows the other one to fall to the concrete floor. She rolls onto her side, curling up in a ball, and her chained wrists go to her metal collar, trying to get it off, but it’s locked in place.

My father walks over to the woman on the floor and kicks her onto her back. His boot steps down on her sweat-covered and bloody chest. He looks her over and then to the Lord. “I don’t want to see her again.”

“Yes, sir,” the Lord says and drags her by the excess chain out of the room and down the hall while she kicks her legs out.

I question that I killed the wrong one. The dead girl who still hangs from the ceiling got off easy. I don’t know the fate of the other one. Will she be tortured? Did I sentence her to a life here as a prisoner at Carnage? Doesn’t matter. It’s too late now. I made a decision, and I told myself a long time ago that I won’t have any regrets.

He turns to face me. His eyes narrowed on mine. “You disappoint me, Haidyn.”

Good. I made the right decision. “Saying I chose the wrong one?” I picked the one on the right because, for some reason, my father despises the other one.

He steps into me and bows his chest. “You should have let them both die.”

The thought never crossed my mind. I was told to make a choice, and that’s exactly what I did. “Did I fail?” I ask, arching a brow. Ready to get the fuck out of here.

“Women are no use to you unless you’re fucking them,” he growls. “They are for your pleasure and reproduction. When are you going to figure that out?”

“I guess when I finally get to fuck one again,” I counter. Three years we have to be celibate. It’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t always throwing it in our faces. They give you plenty of opportunities to fail.

He huffs, turns, and exits the basement, leaving me alone with the dead woman who hangs by her chained wrists.

I bow my head and take a deep breath. Fuck, here’s to another year and another initiation.