“Look lively, Nat!” I cheered.

“You’re about to make your debut.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that curled my lips as I pointed to the screen behind me. The projector whirred to life, and Natasha’s face appeared, bathed in the soft glow of her bedroom light.

And there she was, posing and preening for strangers online, desperate for their validation.

“Isn’t she stunning?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Our little Nat, queen of the webcam. Always needing someone to tell her she’s pretty. Such a pity, don’t you think?”

The room was silent except for the sound of her voice echoing from the speakers. Her words were pathetic, filled with fake sweetness as she begged for attention from faceless men. I watched as the reality of what was happening sank in for her.

Natasha’s head dropped, her shame palpable.

“You really had to stoop that low, Nat? That's pathetic,” Damian sneered, his voice cutting through the silence.

But I wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Not as pathetic as you, baby” I said with a grin, and with a click, the screen shifted. The color drained from his face as his HIV report appeared in stark black and white. Every detail was there, every piece of evidence laid bare for them to see.

“This here,” I said, tapping the screen, “is your little secret. Or it was, anyway.”

“You bitch! Shut it off!” Damian’s voice was a frantic plea, his earlier smugness completely gone.

"Why?" I mocked. "You don't like seeing who you really are?"

"Stop it! I said, stop it now!"

“Anyone here says ‘stop,’ and you automatically lose a finger. No vote required,” I warned, my voice steady, cold. I wasn’t in the mood for interruptions.

He swallowed hard, eyes darting between me and the others, but he stayed silent, his hand instinctively covering his fingers.

"Ryder! You're next!" I clapped. "Any questions you have for me?"

Bernadette suddenly spoke. She’d been quiet, too quiet, until now. “Cairo, please, just stop. Do to me what you’re going to do to Ryder. Just leave them out of this.”

I turned to her, pouting slightly. “If only you cared about me as much as you care about that asshole. But since you were my best friend, Bernie, I’ll ask you a question instead.”

She looked at me with tear-filled eyes, barely able to speak through her sobs. “What did I ever do to you, Cairo? How can you hate me so much? We were freaking best friends since we were kids—”

Ignoring her, I leaned in close, locking eyes with her, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Do you think these people deserved what they got tonight, Bernie?”

“No,” she sobbed. “Not in a million years.”

A sad smile tugged at my lips. “And that’s exactly why you’re here.”

The screen flickered again, and this time it was Miles’ turn. Video after video, each one showcasing his perverted little hobby. Girls who had trusted him, caught in the most vulnerable moments, recorded without their consent. I watched as the disgust settled into the group, as even they couldn’t hide their revulsion.

And then Ryder. His sin was different, darker. The screen filled with images and news clippings, all centered around that one event—the drowning of the young boy.

The look of panic on his face as he realized I knew everything was almost sweet.

“Still think he’s innocent, Bernie?” I asked, turning to her, my voice laced with bitterness. She couldn’t even look at me, her gaze locked on the floor.

“What are you trying to prove here, huh?!” Ryder snapped, his voice filled with desperation. “So we’ve all done bad things, so what?! How is what you’re doing any different?”

I sighed, almost bored by his defiance. “The difference between me and a fucking murderer like you, Ryder, is that what you did… you did it for your pleasure. To satisfy your sick mind. For me, this is my salvation. Kind of like a dying wish.”

Damian tried to regain his composure, chuckling darkly. “Yeah, damn right it is. Because once we’re out of these chairs, you’ll be dead.”

I laughed, hard and unyielding, letting the sound echo off the walls. The room fell eerily silent.

"Well, the fun part for me is that," I said, looking back at the screen. "All of your sins are currently being live telecasted to the entire world. So even if I die tonight, you'll still not....win."

Their fear was intoxicating, and I reveled in it.

"What?" I laughed, looking at their faces. "Did you think I would just kill you and let people like you become martyrs? For people to worship?"

"No fucking way."

I walked over to the kitchen, and halted by the island. On the counter, a tray of weapons awaited me—knives, a couple of jagged glasses, a small vial of acid, and a syringe that gleamed under the dim light. I picked up the syringe first, twirling it between my fingers as I walked back into the dining room.

Their eyes followed me, filled with morbid curiosity.

“What is that?” Miles finally asked, his voice trembling slightly as he pointed to the syringe in my hand.

I smiled, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“The antidote,” I said sweetly. “Too bad, I could only buy one vial.”

“Antidote?” Bernadette’s voice was shaky, almost hopeful. “Antidote to what?”

“To the drug that I put in your wine, of course,” I replied with a hearty laugh.

Her eyes widened in horror as the truth settled in. The others were no better, their faces morphing from confusion to raw fear. It was delightful to watch.

“So that means...” Bernadette trailed off, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” I said, mockingly cheerful. “You’ll be able to move again. Yay!”

Damian narrowed his eyes at me. “Why would you just...give it to us, just like that? Knowing well what would happen to you if we got up from these chairs?”

I smirked, amused by his attempt at logic. “You live up to your name, golden boy. Tell me now, how do you figure out so much and yet, can't understand the meaning of the word ‘no’?”

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as anger flared in his eyes. Good.

Let him seethe. Let them all seethe.

I continued, my tone casual. “There’s only one vial. Which means only one of you will get out of here alive.”

“What’s the catch?” Natasha asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Fight. Your hands are free now, use them however you can. And this vial’s yours.”

They exchanged looks, distrust written all over their faces. None of them wanted to be the first to move, but they all knew what was at stake. The room was thick with the unspoken realization that if they didn’t act fast, someone else would, and they’d be left to die.

“May the best man or woman win!” I declared with a flourish, tossing the vial to the other side of the table. Then I stepped back, settling into a chair by the mantle to watch the show.

The room plunged into chaos almost immediately.

Damian was the first to lunge for the vial, his athleticism giving him the advantage as he snatched it off the table. But he barely had time to feel victorious before Ryder, ever the brute, grabbed a knife and stabbed Damian’s head, forcing him to drop the syringe.

“You think you’re gonna get out of here, pretty boy?” Ryder sneered as he pushed Damian aside and picked up the syringe.

Bernadette, in a last-ditch effort to save herself, pleaded with him. “Ryder, please, you don’t have to do this. We can figure this out, we can all survive—”

But Ryder wasn’t listening. His eyes were crazed, focused only on survival. He grabbed the small vial of acid from the table and, without a second thought, hurled it at Bernadette’s face. She screamed as the acid ate through her skin, her hands clawing at her burning flesh as she crumpled to the ground, her life extinguished in an instant.

“Hell no, bitch!” Ryder shouted. “I’ll be the one to walk out of here!”

His triumph, however, was short-lived.

Just as he was about to inject the syringe into his veins, Natasha grabbed a glass and hurled it at Ryder’s head. The glass shattered on impact, a jagged shard piercing his skull. He dropped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, dead before he hit the ground.

Natasha stood over his body, a wild grin spreading across her face. “I knew it was gonna be me. I knew I was gonna win,” she said, her voice laced with hysteria.

But her victory speech was cut short as a look of horror flashed across her face. She shrieked and fell to the ground, revealing Miles behind her with a knife, the blade slick with her blood.

Oh, the irony.

She choked on her own blood, gasping for air as she tried to speak, but no words came out. She slumped to the floor, her eyes vacant.

Miles turned to me with a triumphant smirk, the syringe now firmly in his grasp.

“You were right. Only one of us will walk out of here alive.”

I smiled back at him, almost proud. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Miles.”

“Yeah well,” he said, glaring at me. “I’m full of surprises.”

I watched as he brought the syringe to his arm, ready to inject what he thought was his salvation. I could see the relief starting to wash over him, the belief that he had won, that he was the last one standing.

I took a step forward, my gaze locked on his.

“Me too,” I whispered.

And as he pushed the plunger down, injecting the liquid into his veins, I leaned in close, my lips brushing his as I kissed him softly. For a moment, there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes, but then his body seized up, the drug taking effect almost immediately.

He gasped, his eyes widening in shock as the realization dawned on him. His legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor.

I stood over him, wiping my lips with the back of my hand as I watched him loose consciousness.

“You shouldn't believe everything people say, Miles." I whispered, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me one last time.

His eyes were filled with a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion as the drug in the syringe worked its way through his system, paralyzing him from the inside out. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled gurgle.

His eyes fluttered closed as the last bit of consciousness left his body. I let go of his chin, letting his head drop to the floor with a dull thud. Stepping back, I surveyed the room, the blood, and the bodies that littered the floor.

Utter carnage.

With a satisfied smirk, I turned and walked towards the door, leaving the room in silence. As I reached the threshold, I paused, looking back at the lifeless bodies of these people.

The ones who had wronged me in ways they could never take back.

The ones who thought they could walk all over me and get away with it.

Wiping the last bit of blood off my gloves, I smiled one final time, the weight of what I had done settling in. I felt no regret, no guilt.

Only a sweet...sweet... satisfaction.

And with that, I walked out, the door closing behind me with a finality that echoed through the now silent house.

I didn’t look back. There was no need.

Everything I had set out to do, I had accomplished.

I was finally free.

______________

can't belive this chapter has 1920 words
spooky coincidence-

xoxo,
Bosedisha