Twenty Fourth Meow - Unreal Reality (3)

TW: Gore, abuse, themes

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Saint was trying his very best to stay standing even though he felt like his legs would give way any minute from now. His body was cold all over like being dumped in the cold freezing water for too long. He couldn't move his lips to speak nor think straight. All he wanted to do now was leave.

If his eyes could run away, it certainly already dashed just to escape. The room where the VVIP patrons were led to is nothing extraordinary-in fact, it's absolutely terrifying to say the least. The room was rather huge; dimmed light, the colors of dark pink and red elucidate the place. There were lots of things going on in the room-all outrageously illegal.

There were chained people by the corner, they wear nothing but their own skin-who were all bloodied and bruised. Their body was covered with injuries made from repeated lashes coming from people wearing expensive suits each holding their respective whips. Two things each of those people who were being mistreated had in common were they both had a metallic choker wrapped around their necks and they weren't human-some have animal features and some looked like elves and dryads from fantasy movies.

They weren't making a noise anymore every time the whip hit their already damaged body, they were tears flowing from their eyes but their gazes were already long dead. Saint couldn't believe what he's seeing as he wobbled from where he stood. He wanted to scream but his lips only managed to release a whimper. He placed both of his hands on his mouth when he felt the urge to vomit.

He looked at the people-including his father who has those sick pleased expressions. He couldn't believe that there's people that were happy watching other people struggle.

He gripped his knuckles and shook his head in dismay. "I don't think I'll enjoy this father, I'll excuse myself. "

His mind was racing. He suddenly remembered Anthony and came to the conclusion that they needed to know about this. And he also felt like whatever lies and atrocities may be, people like his father or higher than him in position have something to do with it.

Mr. So's brows crumpled. His gaze resembled daggers, piercing his son's face. He went to drag him by the arm, not caring how people started to look at them. "You're not going to leave and that's final! "

Mr. So tugged his son to another room which was labeled as "Contemporary Darts". Saint was desperately trying to get free from his father's grasp but he was stronger. Saint knew that whatever things the room has was not something a normal person will enjoy.

As soon as they stepped foot in the room, Saint felt his stomach turn upside down; a piercing stench of blood abided the air. It's too intense that one may perceive that they're in a butchering house or a funeral parlor. He gagged; bending his body over, both hands on his knees.

But what made his eyes reach the peak of terror was the reason for the putrid scent. In front of them were seven large dart boards, tied on each board were people placed in an X position. Their eyes were blindfolded and mouth gagged. They were also not clothed, their various injuries were out in display; dripping from the open to the stained carpet floor.

One prominent person that was about to throw darts at the living targets was a tall pale man wearing a white coat. His amber eyes glimmered with a sadistic glee. Saint knew that person very well and he never expected that he's part of it. He was a renowned psychologist—Dr. Gregory Galloway. It seems that those who appear kind to the masses hide a despicable shadow beneath their masks.

His father's expressions changed that of a tamed beast when he also saw the psychologist; still gripping his arms, Mr. So went near Dr. Gregory with a sweet smile on his face. "Greetings, Doctor! As per my promise, I also brought my novelist son! " The evilness from the doctor's eyes disappeared as he went to also smile at them, his orbs were now eerily warm and if people are a fool they can even say that it looked kind.

The Doctor fixed his gaze on Saint, excitement laced his voice, "I read your books and I liked it. " If only the place where they met was different, Saint could smile at him but he couldn't. He doesn't want to set his eyes to the dart boards in front of him.

In a matter of seconds, leaving Saint perturbed, Gregory was beside him. The Doctor lowered his body and clutched Saint's jaw not too gently, forcing him to look at the doctor on the face. Saint felt a sudden chill crawl down his spine, the way the doctor's eyes pierced through Saint's felt like he's trying to claw himself into Saint's soul. There's something primal and dangerous about the man that wanted Saint to run away and flee from him but he was rooted in place, his legs were heavy almost like it turned to rocks.

The Doctor's voice on the contrary was uncannily soft and sweet that makes it a lot more unsettling. "It's rude not to look at me when I am talking. But I'll forgive you if you'll watch what I'm gonna do, okay? " There's something about the Doctor that made Saint comply, not because he was charmed but because of fear.

Saint knew deep inside of him that the man in front of him was capable of even murder.

Saint could only watch in horror as the Doctor picked three darts from the table, in the blink of an eye-he hit the poor creatures three fatal points: the heart, carotid artery, and forehead. Blood leaked from the open wounds almost like a fountain. The victim's head went limp, indicating that they already had died.

Saint's legs gave way and he found himself sitting by the floor. His whole body was shaking, his lips releasing low hysterical sounds. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs but he could feel all of his energy leaving his body.

A cruel smile etched on the Doctor's face but eventually it changed into a demonic grin when one of his subordinates went to his side, whispering to him about something.

Saint couldn't hear what they're talking about but he ascertained that based on how their lips moved it's something about, "The raven was there. "

Saint felt his breathing got shallow and black dots started to invade his vision. For the first time, Saint thanked being unconscious rather than staying awake seeing what purgatory should be like.