The Bad Life – Chapter 13.2 – The Final Moment of the Hunt

Author: nicotine

I couldn’t bear the gazes pouring down on us. We were in the center of brightly lit lights. Strange men, not even workers, watched us with intrigued expressions. Some bastard openly pulled out his dick and rubbed it.

But more than them, the expressions of the top-tier boys watching us made me want to bite my tongue in shame. Their faces, gleaming with curiosity, excitement, and mockery, were the same ones I’d seen in Bluebell. When I was forced to lie under a horse and take its cock, those four boys had stared down at me, sprawled flat on the stable floor. It was exactly those faces.

I looked at George, Simon, and Jerome in turn. My gaze lingered on Jerome.

When we were in the stable, Jerome had said he didn’t want to see this anymore and left. So, maybe now, even now… I looked at Jerome desperately. I reached out to him.

Holding Matt tightly around the waist with one arm, I stretched out the other toward Jerome, screaming.

In a hazy memory clouded by drugs, when Jerome and I walked through the forest, he had reached out to me and said.

His gentle voice echoed in my head. The memory of holding Jerome’s cold hand and walking came back to life. He made me walk again. He let me walk again by holding his hand. He said he genuinely liked me. I stared at Jerome persistently, shouting for help. He’ll help me, Jerome will help me.

<What? Me?>

Jerome pointed at himself, looking flustered.

I couldn’t hear what came next. Simon, who had been standing silently beside Jerome, strode over and kicked my head hard.

<Simon, don’t hit his face.>

George’s voice faintly pierced through the ringing in my head.

Simon, who had been kicking Matt and me, paused. He stopped the violence altogether and turned away. Moments later, the door slammed shut. It seemed he’d left entirely. I had been shielding Matt from Simon, but as soon as he left, my strength gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. Matt, who had been frozen in my arms, clung to me tightly the moment Simon left. Sobbing, he whispered frantically in my ear.

<I, I, I’m gonna die, Ray, we, we’re gonna die.>

<Fuck…>

<S-Sorry, Ray, I, sob, ugh, it’s all, waaah, it’s all my fault, my fault, waaaah…>

I said nothing, trying to push Matt away. But he clung even closer. Something felt off.

<Sorry, sorry, Ray, but, sob, Acacia-ssi, huh? Ray… I…>

Matt slipped his hand into my pants. My body stiffened.

I turned my head blankly while lying there. Jerome, still with a bewildered expression, was looking down at Matt and me. He just stared at me, as if dumbfounded. But Matt didn’t let me keep looking at Jerome. He cupped my cheeks, turned my face toward him, and kissed me.

I felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn’t understand what this insane act was. Whether I responded or not, Matt pulled off my pants and spread my legs. I stared up at him blankly. He rubbed his cock against my thigh to get hard, then forced himself into my barely loosened opening. My mouth opened in pain, but no scream came out. It burned and stung down there, but it didn’t feel like a real cock was inside. It felt like something happening in a dream. As Matt moved his hips, his balls slapped against me. That sound suddenly snapped me back to reality.

<Matt…>

I mumbled, staring up at him blankly.

<Don’t do it.>

<Ugh, sob, sob, Ray, ah, ugh…>

<No.>

I stared blankly at my spread legs.

<Please…>

A camera lens suddenly entered my vision. The camcorder. George grinned, holding the lens to my face, then slowly backed away, filming Matt moving his hips and me with my legs spread. I stared blankly at the lens.

<Don’t…>

I barely remember the moment being filmed by the camcorder. Fragments come back—sometimes the black lens with a blinking red light filming my face up close, or it licking up the semen dripping from my mouth, or zooming in on the incestuous brand between my legs. Maybe it also filmed my spread ass and exposed parts. I don’t remember clearly because of the drugs. After Matt climaxed and I went limp, unable to move, George personally injected me.

The strange men raped me gently. Unlike the workers. I remember kissing so many men. Warm lips and soft, lascivious tongues still linger in my mouth. George and Jerome didn’t rape me until the end. George handed the filming to someone else and sat in a chair, watching the gang rape. Jerome stood beside George with his arms crossed, staring down at me. He watched every moment—when I took two cocks at once or licked and sucked a stranger’s toes—without missing a thing. He looked shocked, maybe confused. Or perhaps it was just a mocking expression.

Either way, I lost consciousness before it was over. While taking a man’s cock from behind, I faceplanted onto the plastic floor and passed out.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a van. I was lying on a reclined seat, covered with a blanket. My wrists were handcuffed, and my hands were wrapped in a cloth bag. I hadn’t eaten anything, but my stomach felt uneasy.

Gripping the seat, I slowly sat up. Something caught at my neck, and I turned my head. In the dim window, I saw a dog collar fastened around my neck. I let out a hollow laugh. The man in the passenger seat heard the collar and turned around.

It was Jerome. He looked unusually disheveled. His always-neat hair was messy, like a bird’s nest, and his tie was loosely undone. His scarred face didn’t look well.

I stared at him silently. Jerome gave a faint smile.

Jerome said with feigned kindness. I looked into his eerie green eyes and asked.

<Matt.>

My throat hurt slightly, but it was bearable.

Jerome said, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing back toward me. He was holding a water bottle.

I looked down at the water bottle as Jerome opened it and offered it.

<Liar.>

James is still dead.

That’s why they laid down layers of plastic on the floor. To kill him and wrap him up like garbage.

I thought I’d die there too. When the hell are they going to kill me? George just drags me around like a dog, never quite killing me.

Jerome held the water bottle to my mouth.

Jerome tilted the bottle with a grin. I turned my head, refusing, and glared at him.

<Hey.>

<Yeah?>

<What’s so fun for you?>

My voice came out steady, without trembling. Jerome grinned, showing his teeth. It was a flawless, beautiful face. But he didn’t answer.

<Yeah.>

This time, Jerome answered.

<I’m happy I killed your friend.>

I glared at him without a word. Jerome tilted his head, looking puzzled, and asked.

<Didn’t you feel good when you killed my friend?>

<That’s because that bastard deserved to die.>

Jerome didn’t respond, just smiled. Instead of saying more, I licked the rim of the water bottle. Jerome paused for a moment but then tilted it for me.

It was the first time I’d drunk water since being caught at the motel. I guzzled it down frantically. Water overflowed, streaming down my chin and neck, but I didn’t care. Once I started, my thirst was dizzying. I greedily drank until the bottle was empty. Jerome, surprised, widened his eyes, then grabbed another bottle and fed it to me. After downing two bottles, my thirst finally subsided. I roughly wiped my chin and neck with the cloth bag around my hands.

<So, Raymond…>

Jerome rested his chin on his knee, trailing off. I glared at him instead of replying. Jerome pulled up the corners of his mouth in a grin, but the smile slowly faded. With a slightly embarrassed and confused look, he asked.

<What?>

I shot him a cold glare.

Jerome asked with genuine curiosity.

Jerome fell silent. He didn’t seem to remember.

Jerome had said those words himself. As if he’d grab my hand anytime I reached out. So I took his hand and finally stood on my own two feet, feeling astonishingly uplifted by the fact that I could walk again, and that night I dreamed of walking endlessly…

But it was all a delusion. I was the fool. Jerome helped me recover from the drug aftereffects not for my sake but for his own gain. Truly, I was the fool. Thrown into a situation where I suddenly had to film porn with Matt, I lost my mind and spouted nonsense. There was no need to explain to Jerome, so I shut my mouth.

But Jerome’s eyes narrowed as if he’d realized something. Instead of the bewildered expression from last night, he grinned playfully.

<Cute, stupid Raymond.>

<…….>

That was the crucial difference between Jerome and George. Jerome spoke without hesitation. Not that I was a monster from the start, not that I was one of their kind from the beginning, but that Jerome himself made me a monster.

<We’re neither kind nor gentle. We’re monsters.>

Jerome leaned in close and said. His green eyes, gleaming with madness, flickered like a snake’s. He stroked my cheek and whispered.

<Raymond, if I untie your hands right now, what would you do?>

<…….>

<…….>

<Hate,>

Jerome whispered.

He licked my earlobe with his tongue.

I clenched my hands, wrapped in the cloth bag, into tight fists and struck Jerome’s head like lightning. Climbing on top of him, I pounded his head with both fists. Jerome laughed, taking the blows defenselessly. No, not defenselessly. He had no intention of resisting. Arms dangling, he burst into laughter as he was hit. Even as the handcuffs caused his nose to bleed, Jerome didn’t lift a finger. I swung my fist hard, determined to break his teeth, shouting. I didn’t even know what I was saying. I roared meaningless words like a beast.

The commotion caused the van to screech to a halt. Someone from the driver’s seat tried to climb back. I frantically pressed my arm against Jerome’s throat. He groaned and coughed. I pressed harder, shouting.

<I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, Jerome!>

Jerome laughed even louder. I pressed my full weight onto his throat, screaming. Leaning over his chest, I roared. Jerome’s arm stroked my back. A chill ran down my spine. I looked up to see Jerome smiling shyly, blood streaming from his nose.

The person from the driver’s seat jabbed a taser into my back without mercy. I convulsed and rolled onto the floor. A headache surged, and my vision warped. Nausea overwhelmed me. In my dizzy vision, a vaguely familiar woman’s face appeared. She roughly gagged me and supported Jerome. Jerome leaned on her, coughing violently.

I writhed, convulsing for a while, before finally going limp. In that moment, the woman wiped Jerome’s face clean and held a handkerchief under his nose.

I slowly blinked, staring at her face. I’d seen her somewhere before. A green blouse flashed in my mind. A smooth, green silk blouse. Walking with the police. On the first day I arrived in Bluebell, saying <Bluebell’s basically winter until May,> handing me a scarf… and delivering me into their hands.

Anna.

It was Anna.

<Jerome. Sit in the front.>

We locked eyes, clearly recognizing each other. Anna spoke to Jerome curtly without taking her eyes off me. Instead of moving, Jerome held the handkerchief to his nose and grinned at me.

Anna yanked the leash around my neck, pulling hard. Choking, I crawled after her on all fours. She fastened the leash to the seam of the rearmost seat. I could only lie curled up, watching her. The aftershocks of the taser made my body twitch occasionally.

I should’ve killed that woman back then. The thought made me flinch. I was angry when Jerome called me a just moments ago, yet I casually thought I should’ve killed someone…

Jerome didn’t listen to Anna. He came over and lay beside me. Anna looked back and forth between us, then sighed. Moments later, as if resigned, the car started moving.

We lay facing each other. Tears fell without me realizing, without sobbing, as I blinked at Jerome. But Jerome was right. I’d come too far to turn back. Unlike Matt or James, I became irredeemable the moment I left Bluebell. Just as I found my hatred and contempt for life in George, I found my madness in Jerome’s face before me. The madness, now fused with me, writhed inside.

I wasn’t raised as a dog. I placed my hand, wrapped in the cloth bag, on Jerome’s cheek, which I’d beaten until his cheekbones sank. I stroked his cheek as if it were my own. I leaned in and kissed him briefly. A shiver ran through my body. My toes curled, and the hairs on my neck stood up. My lips burned. Jerome narrowed his eyes, silently watching me. I looked at him, then closed my eyes.

I was raised as a monster.

The road back to Laverham was agonizing due to the drug aftereffects from the gang rape. Occasionally opening my eyes, I saw the black road stretching endlessly beyond the horizon. Shivering with déjà vu while gazing at fields bathed in golden sunlight, I suddenly thought of James. Realizing I was retracing the path I’d fled with him, the aftereffects hit again.

Even with the air conditioning off, I shivered, curled up tightly, and groaned. Jerome, sweating profusely in the heat, covered me with a blanket. He occasionally stared at me with an unreadable expression. At night, I felt like I’d freeze to death. Jerome didn’t touch me, just piled blankets on me.

Shivering with chills, I drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes feeling James sitting beside me. I missed him unbearably. I wanted to escape with him in a truck. We could race down open roads under the scorching sun. On roads without traffic lights, lanes meant nothing. With sunlight burning our faces, lukewarm beer, and cigarette ash flicked into the wind, we drove as far as we wanted. The pop songs on the radio sounded like tunes from a distant planet, and we sang along, making up our own lyrics. We sent the map on my lap flying out the open window and drove aimlessly. Forgetting what we were running from, where we wanted to go, or what we wanted to achieve, we, I, arrived in Laverham.

The construction noise at the campsite jolted me awake.

When I opened my eyes, I was trapped in the log cabin as if I’d never escaped. I was curled up on a mattress, dressed in clean clothes. But the leash was hooked to the chandelier fixture.

I sat up. I was alone in the stark log cabin, unchanged. James and Matt were no longer here.

The drug aftereffects seemed to have passed their peak. The bizarrely painful cold was gone. I sat up blankly, staring at my cozy bed. On the filthy mattress, miraculously free of fleas, traces of sex were easy to spot.

I survived and returned alone. Without James or Matt…

What would happen now? Would the days of gang rape continue? Or was death, as George foretold, all that awaited? I didn’t have the energy to think further. I fiddled with the locked leash. Then I noticed unfamiliar items neatly arranged beside the mattress: socks, sneakers, a first-aid kit, water, and a simple meal. It felt like I’d been sent to prison.

Before opening the first-aid kit, I pulled my pants down to my knees. Checking the wound on my thigh, I saw it had already been treated. Clean gauze was neatly applied. Jerome? Or Simon? Not George. I pulled my pants up and opened the first-aid kit. There were packets of medicine… and supplements. Staring at them in disbelief, I shook my head.

I had no strength left to resist. I just wanted to move as they wished and meet a quicker end. It took a while to eat the thick beef sandwich, and I shoved all the medicine from the kit into my mouth. Waiting for the fullness to settle, I slowly paced the living room as far as the leash allowed.

I thought I’d die there. In that room with layers of plastic on the floor. George acted like he’d kill me any moment but kept sparing me. Jerome and Simon didn’t seem to want to kill me or keep me alive. In the end, it wasn’t me who died in that plastic-covered room—it was Matt. Jerome said he let him go, but that’s surely a lie. They wouldn’t spare Matt, a witness to everything…

Feeling like my throat was being squeezed, I collapsed. Matt’s face, wrapped in plastic, was eerily vivid. The sandwich churned uneasily in my stomach. Swallowing bile, I ended up vomiting everything onto the floor. My stomach churned, and dry heaves wouldn’t stop. Even after emptying my stomach, my body convulsed. It took a while to calm down and breathe. No tears fell. Everything was just revolting and exhausting.

I was still trapped in the log cabin. I felt like I was losing my mind. Gritting my teeth, I punched the concrete floor. I hit until my skin tore, collapsing and howling like a beast. No tears came.

<What? Who’s there?>

At someone’s shout, I shot up. It was a startled voice. I wiped my vomit-smeared mouth with the back of my hand. I stared down the hallway toward the entrance. Footsteps approached. The figure that appeared was someone I never expected.

We stared at each other blankly. Flatnose, stunned, stood with his mouth agape. I, too, was shocked, never imagining he’d appear, my mouth hanging open. Flatnose, still in shock, looked around, then stared at me again. He was dressed in a hard hat and work clothes, likely coming from supervising the site. As we stared in silence, voices approached from beyond the open log cabin window frame.

If they find him, Flatnose will die too!

I rushed toward Flatnose but nearly fell back as the leash yanked. I couldn’t make a loud noise. I gestured urgently to him.

I whispered sharply. Flatnose still looked stunned, unmoving. I threw an empty water bottle at him and whispered again.

Flatnose snapped out of it when the bottle hit him. His eyes quickly scanned my neck and the mattress. He seemed to realize this was like a rural serial killer’s workshop. As Flatnose floundered, I pointed to the unfinished room by the bathroom. It had no windows yet, no escape, but it was the only place to hide.

As Flatnose scrambled into the room, the front door opened. My heart pounded, and my body was soaked in cold sweat. Two workers entered, their faces red from the heat, sweating profusely from working.

<Oh, fuck, this bastard threw up!>

One of the workers snapped irritably at me, standing bewildered next to the vomit. Flatnose peeked out from the empty room, staring at me with a shocked expression. I glared at him briefly before subtly stepping in front of the workers. I had to draw their attention. Sweat poured off me like rain.

<Hey, fuck, you throw up and expect someone else to clean it up, you bastard?>

The worker lifted his foot and kicked me hard in the chest. I fell to the floor, clutching my chest, barely managing to breathe. His colleague halfheartedly tried to intervene.

<Jack. Lasso said not to touch him today.>

The one called Jack huffed but didn’t strike again.

<Sorry.>

I mumbled, looking up at the workers with their scruffy beards.

<Sorry, I’ll clean it up.>

If it weren’t for Flatnose, I’d have smashed that punk’s half-grown jaw, even if it meant getting beaten to a pulp. But if they found out Flatnose had seen me, his fate was as good as sealed. There was no need to provoke the workers further. I sat down, bowing my head submissively in apology, and one of them cursed briefly. The irritated one stepped closer. When I looked up, he shoved his crotch in my face and said impatiently.

<Jack, they said not to today…>

The guy beside him tried to stop him. Jack snapped.

<That’s why I’m telling him to use his mouth.>

<But…>

<It’s fine, I’ll do it.>

I cut into their conversation.

<I’ll do it. I want to.>

Wanting to use my vomit-covered mouth was absurd, but if it distracted the workers, that was a win.

<Perfect.>

Jack grinned triumphantly, grabbing my hair.

What the hell is this bastard saying? Swallowing the curses rising to my throat, I unzipped the worker’s pants. I reached into his sweaty underwear and pulled out his soft, pale cock. From then on, I didn’t even breathe through my nose. Mechanically sucking him off, I glanced at the room where Flatnose was hiding. He was watching us, horrified. I shot him a fierce glare, and he quickly ducked back.

These idiots seemed to be tasked with keeping Flatnose or other uninvolved workers out of the log cabin. One of them had said, <Shouldn’t we keep watch? Flatnose might show up. Or the other guys…> with a worried tone. The moron with his cock in my face had casually replied, <It’s fine for now.> They’d done their job well so far, but this time was an exception. Probably because I’d been screaming like a lunatic earlier. Flatnose must have heard me while passing by and come to check.

So what should I do about Flatnose now? Ask for help, or tell him to forget it and run? While grappling with the decision and dealing with the worker’s cock shoved down my throat, Simon showed up, making things worse.

Simon spoke in a low, almost sinister voice. The worker turned, startled, and pulled out his cock. I braced myself on the floor, coughing, barely catching my breath. Damn it. I spat on the floor and looked up at Simon. He didn’t even glance at me, saying curtly.

The workers scrambled out of the log cabin without looking back. I spat a few more times and wiped my mouth with my shirt.

Catching my breath, I turned to Simon. He still didn’t look at me. Instead, he started cleaning up the vomit I’d left on the floor.

Simon cleared the mess, picked up the water bottle rolling on the ground, and went to the bathroom. I watched him, panting. He acted as usual. He didn’t peek into the room next to the bathroom. I prayed Flatnose was well-hidden in there.

Simon returned with water, pouring it on the floor. Still not looking at me, he tossed a freshly filled water bottle. I caught it reflexively. Simon cleared the dishes.

<Simon.>

Simon sat with his back to me, organizing the first-aid kit. Silence hung in the air. I hadn’t expected a response, just called out for no reason. I sat quietly, rinsed my mouth, and drank. The tension from Flatnose and the workers’ sudden intrusion eased slightly. But Flatnose was still hiding in the log cabin. He could be found any moment.

I subtly glanced at Simon. He didn’t look at me, just tidied the messy surroundings. It was a bit different from usual. Normally, he’d come over, wipe my face himself, and watch me rinse my mouth… Oh. It hit me late. Simon was… angry.

<Say you love me,> he’d said. <I’ll save you right now.> I stared at Simon, silently cleaning up, then crawled toward him on my knees. I cautiously pressed my cheek against his back. Simon froze. I’m your lover. Say you love me. I rubbed my cheek against his back, pressing closer. With my free arms, I hugged his waist. I nuzzled his neck, kissing it. Simon stayed still, like a statue. I nibbled his earlobe, whispering against his ear.

<Simon.>

Answer, you bastard.

Simon seemed to stop breathing, frozen. I tightened my arms around his waist, pressing closer, and kissed his ear briefly. Simon trembled slightly. When I kissed his ear again, he let out a low sigh, unable to hold back. He seemed to shiver. I whispered to him again.

<Simon.>

Finally, Simon nodded.

Simon shook his head.

<Why?>

I whispered, slowly tracing his abs and chest with my hands around his waist.

<I’m not mad.>

Simon said again. Despite his calm voice, his faintly trembling hand covered mine.

<Really? Why?>

I kissed his neck, asking.

Simon gently held my hand, still speaking calmly.

That answer froze me.

Simon gripped my trembling hand with his warm, large one. I stared at his profile as if seeing something repulsive, asking.

<Who’s Raymond?>

He said casually.

<We’re lovers.>

My voice trembled without me realizing. I wanted to pull away from Simon.

<You’re…>

Simon paused, fiddling with my hand, then answered.

Fear surged through me. When I tried to pull my hand away, Simon gripped it tightly. He yanked me closer, and I pressed against his back again. Simon squeezed my hand painfully, asking into the air.

<Where’s Raymond?>

A chill ran down my spine.

I shouted, yanking my hand free with all my strength. Simon’s nails scratched my hand painfully, but I got free. Crawling backward to escape, Simon turned and lunged at me. I rolled to dodge, but the leash wrapped around my neck. I scrambled to my feet to run, but Simon grabbed my ankle. I fell, kicking his face wildly with my other foot while clawing the cement floor to get away. Simon took some hits and dodged others.

He stood, holding my ankle, dragging me. I kicked at the air, scratching the floor with my nails, desperate to escape. His warm touch was unbearable. Simon pinned me down. I swung my fists, but he grabbed both arms. He pinned my wrists beside my ears, his eyes gleaming with a madness I’d never seen.

<Tonight, finally,>

Simon muttered in a trembling, ecstatic voice.

I glared at him, shuddering. Simon stared down at me, then stood abruptly. He left the log cabin without looking back. Even after he was gone, my body wouldn’t stop trembling.

When the log cabin grew quiet and I could finally sit up, Flatnose emerged from the room where he’d been hiding. His face pale, he looked at me with contempt. I understood his disgust but wasn’t sane enough to accept it, so I weakly waved him off.

I said, exhausted.

<Goodman, you… back then, you stole all the guys’ money at the lodge and ran, didn’t you?>

Too drained to respond, I just listened.

<You’re here getting fucked over like this?>

<It’s not like that. Just go.>

I replied, looking down at the red marks Simon left on my wrist.

<Don’t ever mention what you saw today until the day you die.>

Flatnose stood rooted to the spot. He was trembling with fear but glared at me.

<You’ve been here this whole time since then…?>

Unable to hold back, I shouted. Flatnose flinched, then shut his mouth. He didn’t linger any longer and left the log cabin.

I was left alone in the empty log cabin again. My body ached. Simon’s words echoed in my mind.

<Tonight, finally, Raymond will stay by my side forever.>

The workers’ words came back too.

And their chatter among themselves.

I collapsed onto the cement floor. Staring up at the log ceiling, I thought of James, Matt, and the knife I left behind in Bluebell. If tonight was the end. Exhaustion surged over me. If today was the end, then, the knife… Would I finally see your face again, which I can’t remember? James, could I escape with you anywhere?

Another sound came from the entrance, but I didn’t bother getting up. I didn’t care who came in. I was drained.

Flatnose’s face suddenly appeared in my vision. His face deathly pale, he thrust out his hand. A pocketknife. I lay still, just staring, and he placed it beside my ear.

Flatnose muttered, then hurriedly left.

I picked up the pocketknife, smaller than my palm. Should I kill myself with it? Rather than being miserably murdered tonight, if I died easily with this knife… I gripped it tightly and closed my eyes. It was quiet. Sleep overwhelmed me.

A loud bang, like a thunderclap, startled me awake. I must have passed out on the cement floor. It was pitch dark outside now.

As I sat up quickly, the pocketknife slipped from my hand. At that moment, I had no plan for what to do with it. Instinctively, I grabbed it and shoved it into my sneaker. As I pushed it deep under my sole, light spilled into the hallway. The thunderous sound must have been the front door slamming against the wall.

Workers with torches appeared in the hallway. Torches in midsummer? I stared at them, dazed, as they strode toward me without hesitation. A worker shone his torch on me. Lasso and another worker approached, unlocked the leash, and forcibly pulled me up.

I couldn’t ask anything. I was scared. They grabbed my arms and dragged me out of the log cabin. I walked calmly to avoid suspicion about the knife hidden in my shoe, but my heart pounded.

Outside, over a dozen men were gathered. The torch-bearing men, all in black, were barely visible. Only the faint outlines of rifles on their shoulders or tools in their hands could be seen. A chill ran through me. I could feel the madness radiating from them.

It was all too familiar. The blind madness you’d encounter on a battlefield. Goosebumps rose, and my body trembled. The workers dragged me into the crowd. In the center, surrounded by torches, stood George. His unmasked, ugly face was alight with ecstasy.

I was thrown pathetically before him. Panting, I barely propped myself up. George knelt on one knee, gently lifting my wrist. I couldn’t even think to pull away, just stared at him. He fastened a metal bracelet on my wrist.

He said.

<It’s a satellite tracking bracelet.>

<What’s…>

<Why…>

I asked dumbly.

<You’re still half-asleep.>

George said, disgustingly feigning kindness.

I slowly looked around. Men in black, armed with rifles or holding torches. They weren’t just workers today. They were hunters. My body froze. I looked down at the heavy tracking device on my wrist. A red light blinked intermittently.

George patted my head, as if I were cute.

<Raymond, you know about beaters, right? You must’ve seen them in Virginia. You worked as a forest ranger during hunting season.>

<…….>

George glanced back. Jerome stood quietly, his face flickering with torchlight.

My jaw trembled. I clenched my teeth to keep from biting my tongue.

George whispered.

<Hunting’s like hide-and-seek. Knowing something’s hiding makes it more fun.>

George stood. As he stepped back, the workers parted, making a path. I saw the dark forest. George hissed.

<Hide.>

The moment he spoke, I bolted into the forest like a madman.

Running with the pocketknife under my sole, I didn’t feel the pain. Death rose to my throat. I tore through the forest, diving in recklessly. Slipping and falling, I scrambled up and ran aimlessly forward. Occasionally, I glanced back in panic, but no torches followed. My lips trembled, my chest pounded, and my ears rang. Out of breath, unable to run anymore, I tripped over a tree stump and fell.

I had no strength to get up. I collapsed onto the stump, sprawling. My lungs felt like they were tearing. My body kept slumping like wet cotton, but I barely propped myself up. But what was the point of running? With the tracker, they’d catch me eventually. George would finally get his wish. Running was futile. Instead… As I leaned against the tree, barely breathing,

Bang.

Sharp gunshots rang out. Distant echoes, but I jumped up, startled. My neck prickled. The more I ran, the more I was feeding George’s thrill. I knew this was exactly what he wanted, but I couldn’t stop my feet. I shook off the fear gripping my ankles and kept running. Even if I’d get caught, I wanted to escape.

My nose stung. I clenched my teeth and ran. Out of breath, my chest felt like it was being slashed. Tearing through the dark forest, my face, hands, and arms were scratched and stung. Thorns caught my ankles, and branches whipped my arms, leaving wounds. If I paused to catch my breath, gunshots shook my eardrums from behind.

The beaters were already in the forest. They were driving me somewhere with gunshots. Like trapping an animal. They were hunting me, a human, a person. Groping blindly in the pitch-dark forest, I tripped over a root and rolled down. My ankle twisted, caught in the gravel.

<Ugh! Hah, ugh…>

A scream escaped. I barely twisted my ankle free from the gravel. It hurt like hell but wasn’t broken. Probably badly sprained. Limping, I stood. Then, close by, I heard the rustle of leaves being stepped on. My heart froze.

Did they hear that scream?

My chest tightened. The sound didn’t come again. I stopped breathing, listening. Waiting, waiting, and… another rustle. It wasn’t as close as I thought. There was still distance. But running recklessly would make noise and get me caught. I carefully stepped, silently, and crawled under a bush beside a rock.

I exhaled silently. No sound. Perfect silence. Occasional distant gunshots, but that was it. Maybe I misheard. Maybe it was just an animal…

No. It wasn’t. Not an animal. I knew instinctively.

It was human.

Someone was following. In this situation, I had to assume the worst. I held my breath, lying still in the bush.

Rustle.

The sound of leaves being stepped on came again, closer. I held my breath. The tracker on my wrist blinked red. Watching beyond the dimly moonlit bush, I blinked. Cold sweat dripped.

A pair of shoes entered my vision. It was a person. I held my breath, staring at the shoes without blinking. They stepped slowly on the leaves, stopping in front of the bush.

I lay like a corpse, curled up. The pain in my ankle vanished. The shoes moved slowly before the bush, pacing back and forth. After circling a few times, they stopped. Astonishingly, they began to move away. Finally, the shoes vanished from sight… I blinked, relieved. I swallowed dryly. As I exhaled, another rustle.

Someone lay flat in front of the bush, meeting my eyes.

We held our breath, staring. Jerome lay flat on the leaves, gazing at me. He wasn’t smiling as usual. It was an unreadable, strange expression. A face I’d never seen. Lips sealed, he stared with green eyes glowing in the dappled moonlight. Like a reptile, cold and alien, without blinking, like a snake before a strike, an alligator waiting for prey in a swamp, just staring.

I felt swept up in the gale before a storm. Suddenly, Jerome and I were in Bluebell’s swamp <Kelly>, facing each other. In the afternoon before the storm, Jerome hunted me on horseback. When I thought he was far, he chased me like a madman; when I thought I was caught, he pulled the reins; when I thought I’d escaped, he laughed like a lunatic and chased again, until we reached.

Author's Thoughts

There are numerous stimulating scenes involving rape, gang rape, violence, abuse, and drugs. Please practice discretion as you proceed.

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