Chapter 228

Chapter 228

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I opened my eyes to a blur of white walls and bright lights. Confusion and fear mingled in my mind as I tried to grasp where I

was. My heart raced as I attempted to move, only to find myself restrained in a chair. Panic surged through me, causing my

breaths to quicken.

“What's going on?” I demanded, the words sounding hollow and desperate in the sterile room.

Bruce, a man I once thought was a friend, loomed over me with a cruel smile etched across his face. Stella stood beside him,

her expression cold and detached. They were people I had trusted, but the look in their eyes now sent shivers down my spine.

Without a word, Stella switched on a camera. The red light blinked ominously as she directed it toward me. Fear gripped my

chest tighter as I realized the gravity of the situation.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The answer formed in my mind before either of them spoke it aloud.

“There are sick individuals out there who pay to see someone like you suffer,” Stella replied, her voice devoid of any remorse.

My heart sank. Horror swept over me as I understood their twisted intentions. I was a pawn in their grotesque game-a live show

for some depraved audience hungry for violence.

Bruce leaned in close, his eyes glinting with a malevolent gleam, “You have no idea the kind of demand there is for this. People

have been waiting for your debut.”

I struggled against the restraints, my breaths shallow and rapid. “You can’t do this!” I pleaded, but my words fell on deaf ears.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, we can, Evie. And we will.”

Dread settled heavily in my stomach as Bruce continued, his voice taunting and cruel. He outlined the torturous fate they had

planned for me, relishing the fear that painted my face.

“You're going to die a slow and painful death,” he sneered. “But first, we'll have a little fun. I’m thinking we start with an arm. Or

maybe a leg? What do you think, Stella?”

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Stella’s lips curved into a chilling smile. “Surprise me, Bruce.”

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My mind raced, trying to find a way out of this nightmare. “You can’t just mutilate me!” I protested, my voice trembling. “This is

insane!”

But they only laughed, their amusement fueled by my terror. Bruce brandished a knife, tracing it against my skin with a sickening

delight. The cold steel pressed against my throat, a silent threat that sent a shiver down my

spine.

“You're going to look so pretty covered in red,” he murmured, his breath hot against my cheek.

I struggled against the restraints, desperation lending strength to my limbs. Fear and anger mingled within me, urging me to fight,

to find a way out of this hell. But as I strained against the bonds, reality settled in the odds were stacked against me, and my

captors reveled in their power.

Tears welled in my eyes as I realized the true depth of their depravity. I was trapped, helpless against their twisted desires.

“You're monsters,” I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion.

“Monsters? No, darling,” Bruce said with a twisted grin. “We're just giving the people what they want.”

My breath caught in my throat as he pulled a knife out from behind him, still grinning. “Maybe I could flay you first. Have you

watch the whole thing as I drag this knife down that perfect little face of yours.”

My heart raced, terror clawing at my chest. “Y—You wouldn't...

He approached me, wielding the knife with a sinister glint in his eye. My heart pounded, my muscles tensing as he pressed the

blade against my neck. “Watch me,” he hissed.

The camera continued to whir, capturing the horror etched on my face as my captors reveled in their sick game. I braced myself

for the pain to come, praying for a miracle that seemed out of reach in this stark, white—-walled room filled with cameras and

unspeakable tools of torture.

My eyes flickered to Stella, her callousness chilling as she casually scrolled through her phone. Her eyes were fixed on the

screen, seemingly detached from the horrors unfolding in front of her.

“Knives are boring,” she remarked casually. “Our viewers want something more... creative to torment Evie with.”

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Bruce shot her a sharp glare. “Then what are you suggesting, Stella?”

Stella scanned the room, then nodded at a box in the corner. “What's in there?”

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Ashiver ran down my spine as I watched Bruce’s expression grow tense. He shifted his eyes to me for a brief second, and if I

didn’t know any better, I would say it was hesitation. But it was quickly overshadowed by his compliance with Stella’s disturbing

desires.

Bruce eventually ambled toward the corner of the room and dug through the box, retrieving bottles filled with harsh—looking

chemical mixtures. He grunted as he hauled one bottle out of the box and began prowling toward me with it, a look of promise in

his eyes.

“What is that?” I gasped, struggling against my ropes.

“These chemicals would feel like hell if they touched your skin,” Bruce warned, holding the bottles up for the

camera.

Stella’s attention snapped back to the impending torture, her eyes lighting up with a perverse excitement. “That’s what the

viewers want to see,” she remarked, her voice filled with an eerie satisfaction. “The money and bets are rolling in now. Go on,

Bruce”

My heart hammered against my chest as panic threatened to engulf me entirely. The situation grew more dire with each passing

moment. The realization that they were profiting from my suffering made bile rise in my throat.

Bruce’s hand trembled as he grasped the bottles, his eyes darting between the chemicals and me. Was there a chance, a

glimmer of mercy beneath the sadistic facade? I held onto that sliver of hope, my eyes locked on his.

“You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded, my voice strained with desperation. “Please, Bruce, don’t let them turn you into this

monster.”

His gaze flickered with conflict, a fleeting moment of hesitation. I saw it-the turmoil within him, the struggle to reconcile the

humanity that remained buried beneath the veneer of cruelty. For an instant, I dared to believe that he might stop, that he might

defy Stella's orders.

But the grip of terror and manipulation was too strong. The mask of hesitation melted away, replaced by a hardened resolve. He

turned his gaze away, shutting himself off from any semblance of remorse.

“You'll love it, Evie,” Bruce taunted, meeting my gaze. “It really clears the skin.”

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“Get that away from me!” I jerked back, the legs of the chair screeching along the cemented floor as it shifted

with me. “Bruce!”

He chuckled. “You know, the more your scream, the more enjoyable you make this for me.”

He snapped a few photos, likely capturing the sick memories he sought

t to treasure.

My mind raced, searching for a way out of this nightmare. As Bruce approached with the jug, I acted on puré instinct, swinging

my leg with all my might. My foot connected with his side, catching him off guard, causing the jug to topple and spill its contents.

Bruce let out a guttural hiss of pain as the harsh liquid made contact with his skin. The phone fell from his hands as he staggered

back, clutching at his burning flesh. Panic flickered in his eyes as the skin bubbled.

“You little.”

“Shit!” Stella shouted, rushing over to Bruce as he clutched his bubbling skin. She seemed stuck between continuing the stream

and rushing to help Bruce. I heard her phone ping multiple times, likely viewers relishing the violence.

“Shut it off!” Bruce screamed at her, eyes blazing. “Shut it off!”