Poison Rose of Avalon

*This chapter contains graphic depictions of physical abuse that may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.*

Soon after she crossed the threshold, the air shifted. A faint whisper behind her brushed past her ear, freezing her in place.

"Peekaboo," came a sinister voice.

Ronnie, Andreas, and Kevin lounged on each mattress.

Liora halted abruptly, a sensation of constriction forming in her throat. Quacking, she turned slowly to confirm the figure standing behind her, and a wave of dread crept up her spine. Among those four, Liora feared Hanuel the most.

Hanuel, 6 feet "tall, stood by the entrance, his tall frame blocking her only escape. His piercing gaze locked onto her, and a chilling smirk curled his lips as if he relished the fear radiating off her. A familiar terror clawed at her chest, sharp and suffocating.

Instinctively, Liora tried to sidestep and run, but Hanuel was faster. He grabbed her hair with a brutal yank and dragged her toward the centre of the tent.

She stumbled, collapsing hard onto her knees. Her clutch skidded across the floor, vanishing under the mini-fridge—out of reach.

Ronnie was perched lazily on one of the beds, and his legs crossed like he had all the time in the world. He held up her phone, dangling it between his fingers with a grin that made her tremble.

"This what you used to film us, huh?" he sneered, dangling it mockingly.

'They know?'

A violent tremor seized her, the kind that no amount of willpower could suppress. Every nerve in her body screamed, her fear choking her as her breaths turned shallow and desperate.

Hanuel crouched beside her, tightening his grip on her hair until the sharp, searing pain forced her head upward. His face hovered inches from hers, his dark gaze drilling into her soul.

"Look at the phone, Liora," Hanuel ordered.

Ronnie clicked the camera, the flash blinding her for a second. "Smile," he mocked, his tone twisted with glee. "Common, Liora, make it good for the camera."

Her lips trembled, but she didn't comply. The next flash illuminated her tear-streaked face, immortalizing her humiliation.

"She's not smiling," Ronnie remarked, tilting the phone toward Hanuel.

Hanuel yanked her hair harder, eliciting a strangled cry from her lips. "I said smile," he hissed, his voice laced with threat. His eyes gleamed with something darker, something that made her skin crawl. "Or do you like to play rough?"

Liora's gaze snapped to him. Her tears mingled with a flicker of rage. She clenched her jaw, refusing to give them the satisfaction they wanted to see. The camera clicked again, capturing her defiance.

Kevin moved beside Ronnie and snorted, "It's only fair, don't you think, Liora? You recorded us; now it's your turn to be the star." His chuckle was like nails scrapping against the glass, sharp and cruel.

To capture all the moments, Ronnie pressed the record button.

Their laughter filled the space, each note more sinister than the last. Liora tugged at her hair, desperately trying to break free from Hanuel's brutal grip. He revelled in her struggle, and so did the other. A few moments passed by, and he released his grip and set free.

Andreas stepped forward, his expression a storm of fury. Without warning, his hand lashed out, and the force of his slap snapped her head to the side.

Pain erupted across her cheek, her lip splitting open as she crumpled to the floor. A coppery tang filled her mouth as blood dripped onto the canvas beneath her. She remained silent, refusing to beg. It was the last vestige of pride she had left, a shield against the onslaught of humiliation and despair.

"Get up!" Andreas barked, violently yanking her hair to drag her upright. His face hovered mere inches from hers, his breath hot and foul against her skin, igniting a searing heat that felt almost unbearable and flooding her with disgust.

"Do you have any idea what you've cost us? Do you?" His grip tightened, shaking her. "You'll pay for every damn thing you've done."

Tears burned tracks down her face as she locked eyes with him. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and her voice wavered,

"Yo...you bullied me," she spat, her words sharp despite her trembling. "You chased me in the rain, knowing I couldn't run. You all started this."

Ronnie laughed again, colder this time: "And we're never going to finish it. Liora... you will be our personal entertainment now and ever."

His focus shifted from the screen, locking into her with an unsettling intensity as he turned his full attention to the live spectacle before him.

"You're a natural for the camera," Kevin mused, peering at the phone with grotesque interest. "Don't you think, Ronnie?"

Ronnie's grin widened. "Definitely. She's a knockout."

Liora's stomach churned with their unknown intentions. Her voice was barely a whisper as she mustered the courage, her worst fear spilling from her lips. "Are you planning to kill me?"

Their laughter was her only answer, a sound that echoed like a death knell in her ears.

Her thoughts spiralled to her father, his final moments a stab to her heart. ′Is this how he felt when they took him away? Helpless, trapped, and praying for a miracle that never came? Did he long for home the way I do now in his last moment?′

The taste of blood mixed with her tears as they fell onto the cold floor, staining it with her despair.

Liora was profoundly affected by her father's death; any sign of extreme violence could lead her to disconnect from reality for days at a time. To escape, she would immerse herself in heartfelt cartoons from a bygone era, seeking comfort in their nostalgic embrace.

But now, she faced the very violence she had been trying so hard to escape, caught in a nightmarish loop.

"Spacing out, are we?" Andreas sneered before delivering another slap, snapping her back to the grim reality; unable to balance, she collapsed sideways, landing on her stomach. The cold ground hit her skin.

"We're not that decent, Liora," Hanuel said with a dark chuckle. "No running, no killing. Just... memories for you to cherish."

Meanwhile, Ronnie kept the video going, capturing each moment of Liora's subjugation, revealing their power dynamic as they exerted control over her.

Kevin's, Ronnie's, and Hanuel's laughter rang through the tent as Andreas repeatedly bashed her left foot viciously, almost as if he were relishing the sound of bone striking against bone. A sharp, searing pain shot through her leg, and she cried out involuntarily.

"Making sure our runner doesn't run out." Andreas smugishly enlightened Liora with his cruel grin before pausing.

"Scream all you like," Hanuel said as he knelt beside her, forcing her to sit on the cold, unforgiving floor. Her feet, face, lips and her scalp throbbed with pain, and tears streamed down her face like a torrential downpour. Lifting her chin with his slender needle-like fingers, he leaned closer, inhaling her scent—a heady blend of fear intertwined with her unique fragrance.

"Your every scream is giving me a wild kick, Liora", Hanuel whispered in her ear. "No one is around this tent, Liora. It's you and us." His finger lightly grazed her red, swollen face. "I wanna hear your melodious scream, Li.o.ra"

"You owe us an apology," Hanuel added.

Standing on his feet, he dragged her by the hair toward the empty white mattress, his eyes turning serious, Liora's feet scraping against the floor. The force he exerted made her broken feet protest painfully, sending waves of agony through her.

She fought against Hanuel, scratching his hand in an attempt to free herself. Hanuel did not budge. Instead, a twist of satisfaction gleamed in his eyes as he admired her futile struggle.

Liora was lying on the mattress, against her will, her face facing Hanuel. She managed to sit up, her heart racing with a paralyzing fear. Pain radiated through her body, but even in such a dire situation, she refused to submit. Gritting her teeth against the agony, she shot back defiantly,

"How about you start apologizing first?"

She gazed at the tent's entrance, and the image of the guy in the rain flashed in her mind. Why did she cling to the fragile hope that he might appear once more, as he had then? In the quiet depths of her heart, she whispered to him, a soft plea woven in the fabric of her thoughts, calling for his presence to shield her from this abyss.

"No one is coming for you, Liora," Hanuel sneered.

He moved closer to her, positioning himself just a few inches from her feet. He was done waiting. His gaze locked onto hers, filled with lustful thoughts as he slowly traced her slender neck, moving down to her voluptuous breasts, then to her flat belly, and finally lingering on her dress that concealed the most enticing parts of her body before finally resting on her bare legs that were partially visible.

"Beast," she spat, her hateful gaze searing into Hanuel. Liora wished she could simply vanish at that moment, that the earth might open up and swallow her before any of them would humiliate her rights further.

Hanuel let out a deep, mocking laugh that echoed in the air. Her unexpected defiance filled him with a twisted sense of amusement. Most girls would have cowered in fear or left the school entirely after that rainy day incident, yet Liora did the opposite.

Now, standing on the precipice of her fate, she held onto her courage, giving him a disapproving glare instead of begging for mercy.

Was he missing something about her? How could she ensnare his thoughts from the first moment he laid eyes on her? He wanted her—desperately. He yearned to break her spirit, to mould her into his image and make her submissive to him, to feel the thrill of having her completely under his control.

*****

Tonight was a night when darkness was at its highest peak and was consuming everything in its path.

A figure stood at the window in the dimly lit room. The chairman brought the cigar to his lips and took a long, measured drag. Tendrils of smoke curled lazily around him, mingling with the heavy silence in the room.

"They're waiting for your final signal, sir." Robert's voice broke the stillness. He stood at attention behind the chairman, his posture tense, awaiting orders.

"Three minutes," the chairman said, his tone even, almost detached. "If they don't hear a phone ring by then, tell them to proceed."

As he spoke, another plume of smoke escaped his lips, the faint swirl dissipating into the dimness. His gaze remained fixed on the view beyond the window, though his thoughts seemed far from the scene unfolding below.

He glanced down at his watch, and something flickered in his eyes—an emotion too fleeting to name. Was it doubt? Regret? Or the cold, unshakable resolve of a man used to making such decisions?

"This is your last chance," he murmured, his voice barely audible, more to himself than to anyone else.

Then, cutting through the silence like a blade, the sharp trill of a phone rang out from Liora's tent.