Page 61 of Claimed By a King

Tonight you’ll get beat

Trick or treat

Tonight you’ll feel the heat

Trick or treat

Trick or treat

Trick or treat

When there’s a pause in the singing or chanting or whatever the fuck it is, I hear a clanking sound from something landing on the bathroom tiles.

I use my free hand to search for it, and it doesn’t take long before my hand closes around a wooden handle. I let my fingersdance across the handle, all the way to… fuck. It feels like an… ax?

“Freedom must be earned.”

The voices pick up volume, urging me to get free, and berating me for being so slow.

“It doesn’t know how to get free.”

“It’s scared.”

“It should hurry.”

“It’s not worthy.”

My stomach churns at the thought of what it’ll take to free myself from Irina’s limp body. I know what must be done, but that doesn’t mean I’m reveling in the thought.

Counting backward from ten, I mentally steel myself. Then I use one hand to move Irina’s wrist so it’s outstretched, while I clutch the ax with the other.

Three…

Two…

One…

I swing the ax, bringing it down on what I think is her wrist.

The sounds that follow are sickening, and I know they’ll stick with me for a very long time—if not forever. Yet, I don’t stop. I keep swinging until I can pull my hand away without resistance.

I try very hard not to think about what I’ve just done, and instead, I clutch the ax against my chest as I crawl out of the bathroom and toward the front door.

The voices haven’t spoken up since I hacked off Irina’s hand… or part of her arm. I don’t want to examine how much I took, and I’m doing my best to pretend I can’t feel the weight of it as I awkwardly make my way across the house while crawling.

When I reach the door I slowly stand, unsure of what to expect since it’s already wide open. I hold my breath and listen as intently as I can, but I don’t hear anyone.

The area is lit up by wooden torches that are placed in a circle. Something’s burning in the middle, but I don’t stick around long enough to see what it is.

I don’t make it far before the hammering of my heart is drowned out by the loud roar of bikes revving their engines. “Fuck!” I scream, dropping the ax as I veer to the right.

With the sense of urgency spurring me on, I don’t pay attention to my surroundings as I pump my arms, running as fast as I can. My lack of focus costs me when I trip over a branch and crash to the ground.

Getting back up, I finally take a moment to look around while I try to get my breathing under control. I’m heaving and my lungs feel like they’re on fire. I’m too unfit to run for my life. Months of being holed up, and only getting decent meals for the last two weeks, has left me weak.

As I look over the crops on either side of me, I get flashbacks of some of the horror movies I used to enjoy watching on Halloween. I’m sure some of them involved teens getting hacked to fucking bits in a field of crops.

That’snotgoing to be me. Nope.

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