Bloody Angel

Chapter 004

Soft music plays in the background like the calming music played in massage places. I open my eyes in a dimly lighted room. I hear activities at the foot of my bed. I get up, expecting pain, but there is nothing. I stretch my arms and see a person sitting at the foot of my bed, preparing what looks like a foot spa?

“Good morning,” he says. “Do you have any questions?”

I peer at him. He’s wearing a black and white mask with curved lines and a slit for the eyes. The voice sounds male, but I cannot be sure. I look at him from head to toe. At least, whatever is visible from his clothes. He looks ordinary save for the mask.

He places the bucket of herb water in front of me. “Shall we start?”

I ignore him. Instead, I shift my attention from him to the entire room. There is a chandelier on the ceiling which has paintings on it—religious paintings that cover the entire ceiling like the ones in the Sistine chapel. The furniture looks old, medieval, and seems like it will fetch a high price. The wall, on the other hand, is covered by heavy curtains with artwork in the middle. Picasso perhaps? I can identify a Le Reve which is so fitting to what I am in Bryan’s life.

Is this Bryan’s doing? He had done it before, during the early stage of our relationship. There is this one morning that I found myself in a luxurious room with a servant waiting for me to wake up. After that, he appeared and promised me a future—which never happened—and all the good things in life that only the rich can afford.

Events with Lucero come to mind. The delicious night of passion. The raucous morning of revelation. And then me, being listed as a Game participant for this year, in this f*ucked up country. I sit up in alarm. Am I in the Game? Is this a challenge?

I glare at the person who’s still at the side of the bed, watching me. Is he the first one I need to kill? Or the first one who will kill me? I place my arms in a defensive manner. He looks weak, has thin-looking limbs, and with a lean and gaunt frame.

“Is there anything you want?” he interrupts my thoughts.

“Who are you?!”

“Just a common servant. You might be hungry?”

He stands up and I jump from my bed and hit a chair on the back of my knees. Carpet. I glance at it and proved my assumption. I am barefoot but my clothes—I am wearing an oversized shirt. I am not wearing a bra but I am wearing underwear.

He opens the door and says, “Send food for the miss.”

Within a few minutes, food enters the luxurious room. Mouth-watering smell. I look at the source. Chicken, meat, and vegetables. I never had that much food since, I’m not sure, maybe when Bryan starts to save up? He says it’s for our future. Well then, here’s the future you’ve been saving up for, a-hole!

The man-servant removes the bucket of water and situates the table of food on the other side of the bed instead. It’s like a buffet. The food is good for two people. I salivate, and then my stomach grumbles. I approach, slowly, like a cat trying to deduce if it’s safe. Wait. Is it even safe for consumption?

I look at the man-servant again. He’s looking in my direction. “It’s safe to eat,” he assures me. He takes a piece from the meat and places it in his mouth. I wait for a minute. When nothing happens, I jump on the bed and start to eat. All the while, the man-servant watches me.

Every time I finish a dish, the man-servant takes the plate and asks if there is something else I want to eat. I ask for nothing. The food in front of me is enough to feed a starving person.

Once done eating, I retreat to the bed. I wait for some kind of reaction. Some poison acts slow, so maybe I’ll die in a few days.

When the last plate disappears from the room, the manservant places a shirt, jogging pants, rubber shoes, and a cap on the bed. Then he places a black lace evening dress, accessories, and shoes with stiletto heels next to it.

“What is that for?” I ask.

“The dress is for taking pictures,” he says. He approaches me and is about to help me with my clothes when I slap his hand.

“I can do it alone.”

The man-servant pulls back and turns around. Instead of taking the dress, I wear the shirt and jogging pants. I’ve seen this before. Some chose to wear the dress, but then they got sent to the Game wearing that. It’s good for cold weather but not for battle. Yet, my hand still gravitates towards the accessories and wears them.

“I’m done,” I say.

The man-servant turns around and looks at me from head to toe. “Are you going to take a picture in jogging pants?” he asks.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask. I know that even in this, I look amazing. I take the cap and make sure that my rubber shoes are tied securely.

The man-servant did not respond. Instead, he opens the door of the room and says, “If that is the case, welcome to the Game!”

I take a step out of the room. It is bright and I screen my eyes with my arms. We are in an enormous hall. With different rooms around it. Like me, some people wear jogging pants. Some are wearing the dress. While some are still in their oversized shirts and undies.

I try to identify the faces, but none are familiar. The same as the previous year, no powerful person joined this time. I hope that f*cked up Lucero joined. I will kill him with my own hands, but that’s after I had my way with him again. Torture will be enjoyable. I want to see him beg.

I smirk at the thought. Of course, that ain’t going to happen. In reality, this Game will kill me.