Master B-1901 (Garden of the Gods #14)

Master B-1901

W hat was real? What was implanted? Was I even here right now, walking through some underground science lab, down a dim hall, into…this?

The room I was led inside had to have been the entire size of my first apartment. Cement walls led to cement floors, and there was a drain centered just below a nude, older male who was hanging from the ceiling and yelling into a black gag. With every thrash of his body, he swayed. Antiseptic lingered, making my nose crinkle as I headed forward.

“Can we bring him down and set him free?”

“No, Master. I’m sorry. He has to stay cuffed.”

The door shut behind me, but I barely heard as I approached the man. Not far away a file rested on a cart. On that cart was multiple weapons. More than I knew what to do with. I grabbed the manilla folder, opening it to see a colored photo. To the right and underneath it was the man’s information.

“Crow,” I breathed out, glancing over the typed stats. In truth, I didn’t need to know anything to kill him. I’d do that because I wanted to face death where I could remember. I wanted to bleed out my own aggression any way I could, even if it was through carnage. But I took my time, reading, and adding fuel to the fire that was immersed within.

Melissa. Melissa.

Even saying her name in my head made me feel disoriented. I felt nauseous. Sick. Was it a side effect from a truth my brain refused to let me grasp completely? Was it a symptom of something more?

“Mmmph! Mmmmpph!”

I glanced up at the angry undertone, taking in his balding head on the top and the longer brown length on the sides. He sported a thicker mustache but there was a light growth on his cheeks indicating he’d been away from a razor for at least a day or two. Some random tattoos covered his skin. Nothing fancy. A few faded names. A cross. Something that looked like a logo I wasn’t familiar with. Although I saw it, I only saw her. I wanted her to hurt. To be destroyed.

“Mmph! Mph!”

“Murderer. Go figure. Me too.”

I licked my lips, grabbing a baton with my submissive hand, testing the weight as I placed his info down. I wasn’t even sure the folder had landed on top of the other weapons before I was spinning and connecting with the man’s side. The thud was just as solid as the pop I felt in my hand. It wasn’t good enough. I didn’t like my weakness, and I did feel weak with the lack of power I knew I was capable of. Physically. Mentally. Weak. I was so fucking weak. It was all because of the Mistress. Because of Melissa .

Whack!

Whack!

“Mmmmm-mmmmph!”

The yell transitioned into fear and was broken up as he tried to catch his breath.

Whack!

Whack!

Aching vibrated through my hand. Even unbroken, the damage was still there from trying to kill Ally. The realization had me swinging so hard, I nearly dropped the baton at the pain that cramped in my palm.

The crow was thrashing and flopping, but his face was deepening red as he fought for air. With his feet bound, there wasn’t much he could do to try to fight me off. He was doomed, and we both knew it as I turned, dropping the baton on the cart. As my eyes met the dark glass ahead, I knew my slave was watching. What did it make her feel to see me this way? Cold. Callous. Was she having flashbacks of me attacking her? Did she feel nothing? I wasn’t so sure. She was different since we left the hospital. How much she had changed though, I had no idea, but even she could sense the difference.

Over and over, I flexed my fingers, curling them in as I winced. Opening it back up, I repeatedly made a fist. My lids squeezed shut, and I jerked at the sudden flicker of colors that broke through the darkness.

What it was…I wasn’t sure. There was a scene. One I felt lived inside the foundational part of my brain. The dawning was like a breath of fresh air. I knew it even if I couldn’t see what it was. Laughing. Screaming. It wasn’t a party. No. More…intimate. An initiation? Yes… I knew the event took place, but that I couldn’t remember one of the best, most gruesome nights of my life, made me angry. The location and what happened was there, but I couldn’t ‘see’ it in my thoughts anymore. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t okay.

My head shook, and I grabbed what looked like a double-sided forked hammer. When I turned to face the crow, he was sobbing and wiggling for his life. It did nothing to phase me. This wasn’t personal. This wasn’t even about him at all. Even if I would have been of sound mind. Even if I didn’t have the hate for Melissa, this man was nothing but a body—an outlet for oppression. If I wanted to gouge him full of thick holes or break him into a billion pieces, I’d do it. When had I ever been given a choice about anything? What was even real? I’d argued with Elec, and I’d started to convince the Main Master of ‘my’ truth, but what if it was for nothing? What if it was all a lie?

I didn’t know what to believe.

Who the fuck was I?

I circled around, watching the man swing through his wild thrashing. His toes were so close to the ground but not close enough. Wrinkles appeared through the screams and grimaces, driving me on. My weak arm drew back, and I speared the forked claws into the man’s right pec, putting my weight forward as I drug it down. Skin and muscle tore. Jagged pieces of flesh aligned the wound, hanging free and stopping close to his sternum. Blood quickly streamed free, and the red urged me on as I began stabbing and hooking the ends into him.

Knowing I was inflicting pain wasn’t enough. This wasn’t right.

To kill was to…embrace our truest desires. I’d heard that before. To kill was to…openly accept the polarities within.

A yell ripped its way free from my throat as memories flashed urging me to stab more.

To kill was…to be free. To unleash the forbidden. To hug it tightly and welcome it home.

To kill…was…

“This isn’t…right. No.”

Whispering, so erotic and tempting haunted the depths of my mind. Whispers. Screams. Mine? The feminine voice was familiar making me roar. The words weren’t clear, but they didn’t have to be for the way my body was starting to react. My stomach rolled, and I was blind as scenes blurred and moans joined the whispers.

My head shook as I spun, turning to the cart and taking down a saw. With how thick the chains were, there was no way I could cut through them. I didn’t plan to even try as I went right to sawing at his wrists.

Screams echoed from the walls, drowning my thoughts, allowing me a moment of peace as I put all my strength into breaking through bone. It wasn’t easy with the damage to my hand, but I had the crow swinging within seconds. A severed arm dropped free, and his toe managed to bear his weight before he swung around widely, trying to hit me as he began to go crazy.

My eyes flared, and a smile came. Adrenaline fed me as I moved in, wrapping my bicep around his head and crushing him into my chest. I began slicing back and forth on his other wrist. Chains clinked and pressure from the slave’s hit slammed against my back as the door swung open in the distance. I knew the guards had entered again. Nineteen’s eyes hadn’t left me, and they wouldn’t now.

Movement blurred, but they stayed back as me and the crow hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. The saw slid away at the force, but I was in heaven. Blood was spraying at me with every swing of his nubs, and I didn’t hold back. My fist connected with the man’s cheek as I put myself on top of him. The agony jolted me stiff, but not enough to make me stop.

Whack!

Whack!

Whack!

This was better. This was right.

Weight thrashed underneath, and he bucked, sending me pitching forward. It put me in perfect distance. I reached over, grabbing the saw, watching as his eyes went round in terror.

Instinct immediately hit a wall of restriction. Where my true self knew what it wanted, what came natural , all I could feel was the overpowering need to finish it. Finish it. Finish. Yes. With my fist. Hit. Pound. Rage. But that wasn’t me. Not at all. Was it? No. I wanted to take him apart. I wanted to pull his jaw clean off and turn him inside out. Hit? I wanted to, just from the anger that came with the command of my mind.

“No!”

My palm flattened on the crow’s forehead, but the weight from his forearm was trying to wedge through to break my hold. I dropped the saw, pounding my fist into his face even more. The more he fought, the harder I hit.

“No.”

Hit

“No.”

Hit.

“No!”

The man’s head rolled, and his eyes fought to stay open. I grabbed the saw, pushing my bandaged palm back against his forehead, adding my weight. Leveling the blade horizontal over his mouth, I pushed past his lips and teeth. The first push of my hand had the razor-sharp blade slicing through the skin of his cheeks like butter. Muscle opened up exposing meat. I sawed the opposite way, pushing against him even more as a mad laughter began to leave me.

This is what I had wanted out of the Gardens. This was who I really was. Even in the realm of real and make-believe, there was no sense of true self. Only an awareness. Not an association. The realization had the crazed laughter dying, replaced with the demonic howls I knew all too well. It was the Braddock in the window covered in blood, hitting against the glass so that he could break free. The Braddock who killed his tutor just to see what death was like. He was still here. Still inside of me.

Deep pants left me as I pulled back, looking at the mush along the edges of the blade. Blood splattered the man’s face, and the crow’s head was almost cut in half. His eyes were glassing over as blood pooled in the large opening of his mouth. He was choking, coughing and sending more crimson spraying out.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t move. I didn’t disappear. I kept staring into eyes that were slowing and searching for a miracle. His life was fading, but I wasn’t this time. I soaked in the struggling breaths. I let every twitch and jerk of his body register below me. I vowed…I’d never lose this again. I’d never lose my true self. I was here to stay, no matter what I had to do to make it that way.