Several days had passed, maybe more. We lost track of time. The basement walls were identical, and no one came to see us, which we were glad about. Only the big guy guarding us would occasionally punch us in the ribs, stick his fingers in my wound, and torture us in other ways.
Alex and I were completely exhausted, but we had never been closer. Perhaps it was a special kind of closeness, learning by heart how your friend screams when tortured and beaten. I wasn't so easy to break; I was more resilient to beatings. But that was the only thing I couldn't get out of my head—the words of Mrs. Gorskaya. Mike is about to arrive. And what Mike does is much worse than a couple of punches to the jaw.
We couldn't feel our backs, legs, or buttocks. Sitting in the same position, tied up for several days, is really quite difficult. I could feel my cheek hurting, and I bet there was an infection there. In these damp and unsanitary conditions, it would be impossible to keep a wound sterile.
"Are you okay?" I asked Alex in a weak voice, trying to take off the sticky, dirty hair off my face.
"No. Are you?"
"No."
Stupid question. But... we'll go crazy if we don't talk all this time. At one point, the big guy guarding us got up from his chair, and I instinctively cringed, expecting a kick. But he opened the basement door wide and sat back down right next to them. God, how does this rotten chair even hold his weight?
We sat there for about an hour. I stared intently at the guard and tried to learn the layout of our surroundings. Judging by the high ceilings, we were clearly more than 3-4 meters underground. Dampness had spread black and green mold throughout the room, and judging by the stains, the walls had once been a soft blue color, rather than the green with a dark gray tint.
Next to the thug was a bat of a familiar style. I had seen one just like it at Eugene's thing. Could it be a distinguishing mark? The entire bat was studded with nails, pointing outward. God, I hope it's not meant for us. But if we can distract the thug, maybe that will be our chance. And the keys—are the keys in his pocket or... Damn, I can't see anything.
My attempts to get a better look at the guard were halted when I heard footsteps. Several people were coming down the stairs, one of them clearly Gorsky's widow; I could tell by the sound of her high heels. I would have said something about female solidarity, blah blah blah, but she's right—I killed her husband; she has a right to be angry. Apparently, Gorsky wasn't as much of a scumbag as Mike. Because I would have been happy if someone had finished off my still-husband.
A lush red skirt appeared in the doorway, and the sound of heels grew closer, and the nasty voice of this lady grew louder. She was saying something loudly to those behind her, whom I hadn't yet heard or seen. When she entered the room, I finally got a look at her two companions. And I was not at all pleased with what I saw. But at least it was not a surprise.
It was Mike and Eugene. Mike was covered in wounds and bruises, but at least that cheered me up a little. Eugene clearly didn't want to be there. He gave me a pitying look. But I didn't feel like doing anything except spitting in his face.
"Alex, can you hear me?"
"What?" His whisper was so quiet that even if someone wanted to, they wouldn't have been able to hear him.
"We have to get through this day no matter what. Then I have a plan."
"Is it that bad?" I didn't answer. I didn't want to say it out loud. I didn't want anyone like Alex to go through what we were likely to face. "I understand. It's okay. I'll manage."
"You promise?" My whisper faltered slightly as a lump formed in my throat. Alex was the only one left from Rotten Crown. I couldn't lose him too.
"I promise."
Our guests continued their Spanish conversations, pretending we weren't even in the room. Everyone except Eugene. He clearly wanted to say or do something. His eyes kept glancing at us. I responded with nothing but contempt. Sick bastard.
"Well, gentlemen. We all have personal scores to settle with this lady. And the young man is just a bonus. Mike, would you like to say something?" Gorskaya looked at us with a smile. I knew where this was going. I'd been through this before.
"You were much prettier the last time we met, wifey." Mike moved closer to me and crouched down, examining my blood-stained clothes. His hand reached for my hair, matted with blood and sweat, and he began to peel it away from the wound on my cheek. "You turned me on more when you were a redhead. Samantha, did you ruin her pretty face?"
"I couldn't help myself. She was asking for it." The widow laughed and snapped her fingers to the bodyguard. He went behind Alex and me and came back with a bottle of champagne and three glasses.
"Then I think we should trim your hair a little so you don't hide that masterpiece on your cheek."
Mike took a knife out of his pocket and began to carelessly cut my hair. Curl after curl fell from my head, but I didn't make a sound. I would remind him that he wasn't worth a single tear from me. Shave my head, you bastard, cut me to pieces—you're not worthy of it. When he finished, I had a nasty short haircut, something like a bob.
"Errin, honey, don't you think you should look at me with more love? We are still a happy couple, remember?" I looked him in the eyes but couldn't squeeze out anything but hate.
"Fuck you."
"Careful, sweetheart. Or I might cut out your tongue, knock out your teeth... They say it helps girls suck better.»
"Don't get carried away, Mike." Eugene stopped him. "We still have to film."
"Oh, right... Alex and Gloria, today we are your main audience, along with thousands of others online who Eugene will bring. Mike, are you ready to place your first bets?"
"You bet I am, Samantha."
"You really are pieces of shit." Alex whispered this, certain that if it weren't for his jaw and teeth, his ravenous hunger, and his weakness, he would have shouted it louder.
"Better to be a piece of shit with money than a piece of shit like you tied to a chair." Samantha poured champagne into her glass and took a few sips. "Let's get started. Eugene, you're up."
I tried to loosen the tape and ropes around my wrists, but to no avail. Eugene came over to us with Alex and began to slowly undress us. I was used to it, but Alex was clearly horrified. Eugene did it silently, mechanically, as if he had always done this. Although, that was exactly what Lucian had told me.
When Alex and I were completely naked and our clothes were torn to shreds, Eugene began to slowly wash us with water, washing the blood and dirt from all our wounds.
"There's a lot of inflammation here, Samantha. You won't get much for her if you risk infecting her." He poured peroxide on the open wound on my cheek, and I began to hiss like it was hissing, mixed with my own blood. "I'm sorry, Gloria."
"You can suck me off too, Eugene." Fucking traitor. I hated him even more. At least Mike never pretended to be a good guy. I knew he was a piece of shit. I didn't expect anything else from him.
"I'll help you. You just need to be patient."
"I don't believe you, you piece of shit." Eugene said nothing, wiping my forehead with a cold cloth.
"I agree with her. You're a dick."
"Alex, don't start. When I had conflicts with you guys, you were literally a schoolboy. You don't know anything."
"Fuck off."
Half an hour later, after washing and treating our wounds and listening to Mike and Samantha's boring conversations in the background, Alex and I were completely clean but still tied to our chairs. Cameras had been set up in front of us, and we were ready for the unknown. Although, you're rarely ready for something like this, right?