The price of comfort

Chapter 9

Chapter 9 : Judgement Day

Della awoke to the sound of heavy footsteps approaching her apartment. Her heart skipped a beat as the door swung open and two guards entered. They were stern-faced, their presence commanding and intimidating.

"Put something nice on," one of them barked. "The King has an eventful day planned for you."

Della nodded, her throat dry with fear. She quickly chose a light blue knee-length dress from her closet. The dress was simple yet elegant, the soft fabric clinging to her curves. She took a moment to French braid her thick, dark brown hair, her fingers trembling as she worked.

Once she was ready, the guards escorted her out of the apartment. She climbed into the back of a car, the leather seats cool against her skin. The drive was silent and tense, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of the guards in the front.

They drove to one of the more secure portions of the camp. The air grew heavy and thick with the unmistakable stench of death. It clung to everything, a grim reminder of the horrors that took place within these walls. Della felt a wave of nausea but forced herself to remain composed.

As the car came to a stop, King Nikolai appeared, his expression one of cold satisfaction. He greeted Della with a kiss, pulling her close and grabbing a handful of her butt as he did so. "Mine," he declared possessively, his eyes boring into hers.

Della shivered, feeling a mixture of fear and revulsion. She followed him silently, her heart pounding in her chest. Today, she was about to witness the darkest side of the King's rule.

They entered a large room that reeked of blood and despair. The floor was stained with the dried remnants of past executions. King Nikolai led Della to a pair of thrones at the front of the room. He pointed to the smaller one beside his. "Sit," he commanded.

Della obeyed, sinking into the throne and trying to steady her breathing. The room was filled with guards and other officials, all standing in silence, awaiting the King’s orders.

The first prisoner was brought in, a middle-aged man with a gaunt face and desperate eyes. He was pushed to his knees before the King.

"Explain why you are here and why you want to leave," the King ordered, his voice cold and devoid of empathy.

The man’s voice trembled as he spoke. "Your Majesty, I didn't know I had accidentally left the country. I was just going on a walk, enjoying the countryside. I never intended to break any laws."

King Nikolai chuckled, a sinister sound that sent chills down Della's spine. "Why would you want to leave such a beautiful country as Reblen?" he mocked.

The man stammered, "I... I wasn’t trying to leave, I swear. I love Reblen. It was an honest mistake."

Without warning, the King lifted a gun and shot the man in the head. The sound echoed through the room, and the man crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around him. Della's face went pale, and she had to fight the urge to be sick.

The next prisoner was brought in. He presented his case, explaining how he had been wrongfully accused. King Nikolai listened, then nodded. "You will be set free," he declared.

Della sat quietly, her heart heavy with the weight of the lives being decided in this room. Prisoner after prisoner was brought before the King, each pleading their case. Some were granted freedom, but many were shot without hesitation. The guards dragged the limp bodies away, leaving behind a trail of blood and despair.

With each death, Della felt a piece of her soul wither. The horror of the situation was overwhelming, but she knew she had to remain composed. Any sign of weakness could be dangerous, both for her and for those who might still have a chance at survival.

As the executions continued, Della’s mind wandered to the young woman she had seen flirting with the guard. She wondered if that girl would ever end up in a room like this, pleading for her life. The thought was almost too much to bear.

The King seemed to take pleasure in the power he wielded, his eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction as he made his judgments. He glanced at Della occasionally, as if gauging her reaction. She kept her expression as neutral as possible, though inside she was screaming.

Hours passed, and the parade of prisoners showed no signs of ending. The bloodstains on the floor grew darker and more pronounced, a grim testament to the brutality of the regime. Della’s dress felt tight and constricting, the fabric clinging to her as she sat rigidly in the throne.

Finally, the King raised his hand, signaling a pause. "Enough for today," he said, his voice weary but still filled with authority.

The guards began to clear the room, dragging the latest body away. Della sat still, her mind numb from the horrors she had witnessed. She felt the King’s gaze on her and looked up to meet his eyes.

"You did well," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "You didn’t flinch. I’m impressed."

Della forced a weak smile. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stood and walked over to her, extending a hand. "Come. Let’s get you back to your apartment."

She took his hand, her legs feeling like jelly as she stood. He led her out of the blood-stained room and back to the car. The drive back to her apartment was silent, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on her.

When they arrived, the King escorted her inside. He pulled her close once more, his hand lingering on her hip. "Remember, you are mine," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "And you should be grateful."

Della nodded, too exhausted and terrified to respond. He kissed her one last time before leaving, the door closing with a finality that made her shudder.

She collapsed onto the couch, her body shaking with sobs. The horror of the day replayed in her mind, the faces of the prisoners haunting her. She had to find a way to escape, to end this nightmare. But how?

Della lay there for hours, her mind a whirlwind of fear and despair. She knew she had to be strong, to keep fighting. But each day brought new horrors, and she wondered how much more she could endure.

As the night wore on, Della made a silent vow. She would survive. She would find a way to escape and bring this regime to its knees. For now, she had to endure, to play the part the King demanded. But one day, she would be free.

The thought gave her a small measure of comfort as she finally drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams filled with the faces of those who had suffered and died before her. The road ahead was dark and treacherous, but Della was determined to find her way through it. She would not let the King break her spirit. She would fight for her freedom, no matter the cost.