Unwilling

Haisley

I'm not this person. At least, I never used to be. My whole life was built around pleasing others, ensuring they were happy, making sure they had what they needed. But now? That feeling, that need to protect and serve everyone else, it's gone. I'm not sure if it was the reality of this place that broke me—knowing the women here only care about themselves—or if it was something Zyraxiel did when he took that memory from me. Either way, right now? I don't care if these women survive.

I sit apart from them, their shifting bodies rustling as they begin to wake. They peer over at me, and I feel their eyes on me, but I avoid their gazes. I don't care about their whispers. I don't care about their fear or their desperation. Instead, I focus on the mirror in my hand, hoping to see Zyraxiel.

Their voices rise in low murmurs, whispering behind me. The old me would've cared, would've wondered what they were saying, maybe even worried about them. But that version of me is dead. The only thing that matters now is surviving—and I'm going to survive.

I glance up seeing the room shift, and I see him. Zyraxiel, stepping through the shadows with that commanding presence. He doesn't speak, just sets something down in front of me before disappearing again, as silent as he came. I look at the gift he's left: food, water, and a dagger. Another essential survival item—something tells me I will need that.

Without hesitation, I tear into the food, devouring it as if it's the only thing tethering me to life. The water is cool, soothing the dryness in my throat, and I wrap the blanket around me, savoring the warmth it brings. Placing the dagger, in my pocket, I eat and drink in silence, paying no attention to the women staring at me.

Megan, her voice trembling, speaks up. "Will you… will you ask Zyraxiel to bring us food too?"

I look at her, my face expressionless. There's no pity in me anymore. "No."

The shock on their faces is almost laughable. "What? How can you be so cruel?" Olivia blurts out, her voice rising in disbelief. "Why won't you help us?"

I laugh—cold and hollow. "Cruel?" I look between them, the twisted irony of their words settling deep inside me. "I did help. I told one of my darkest secrets to save someone else. And you?" I shake my head. "You told each other's secrets. Including mine."

They look at each other, shame creeping across their faces, but Megan steps forward, trying to explain. "It was part of the game, Haisley. We had to. It's how you survive."

"Exactly," I say, my voice sharp. "And this is how I survive. I get fed. And you? You don't."

Their begging eyes, their desperate pleas, mean nothing to me now. They're all just playing a game, and so am I. The difference is—I've accepted it. I've embraced the truth.

I'm not here to save anyone anymore.

"You can't do this, how can you refuse to help us?" Megan stands over me, desperation in her voice, as she continues pleading.

I look up at her, unbothered by her panic. "How could you scream one of my secrets after I saved you from that creature? They didn't help you. Why not reveal their secrets? Instead, you betrayed the only person who stood by you." I shake my head and return to eating. "Well, no more. You're on your own."

I don't look at her, but I can feel her glaring, feel the heat of her anger radiating off her as she stands there, motionless, waiting for me to change my mind. But I don't. I just keep eating, ignoring the tension in the room.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, I hear her shuffle away. I finish my meal, unbothered, and wrap myself up in the warmth of the blanket. With the dagger firmly in my hand, I feel a sense of safety, knowing it's there if I need it. My eyelids grow heavy, and I let myself drift into sleep, my body finally relaxing.

I wake abruptly, the uneasy sensation of something being taken from me snapping me into consciousness. My eyes fly open, and I feel the tug on my water bottle. I grab it before it's fully taken, twisting around to see one of the women—Olivia—trying to steal it, her hands trembling with guilt. Behind her, the others lurk in the shadows, watching.

"Stop," I warn, my voice cold, as I pull the water back. But Olivia doesn't listen. The others close in, their eyes locked on me with a hunger and desperation that sends a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, they all rush at me.

I spring to my feet, the dagger already tight in my grip. They're faster than I expected, clawing at me, their hands grabbing for the mirror, for the water, for anything they can take. It's chaos—wild, desperate hands and frenzied movements. My heart races, but my mind remains sharp, my instincts kicking in.

Without hesitation, I thrust the dagger forward.

A sickening gasp fills the air as the blade sinks into one of them—Star. She stumbles back, clutching her side, blood seeping through her fingers. The others freeze, staring in shock as she crumples to the ground, whimpering in pain.

I pull the dagger back, the tip dripping with her blood. My breath is shallow, my chest tight, but I don't falter. I hold my ground, standing over Star's fallen form, the blade gleaming in the low light.

The rest of them back away, their wide eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. No one dares move closer.

"Try that again," I say, my voice low and dangerous, "and I'll do worse than this."

Silence. None of them speak. They're terrified. And they should be.

They retreat into the shadows, leaving me standing there, my heart still pounding, my hand gripping the dagger tightly. The power I hold now is undeniable. And I realize, in that moment, I'll do whatever it takes to survive this.

A few moments later, the portal opens with a low, ominous hum. My heart races as I watch a demon step out from the swirling darkness, its massive, twisted form filling the room. It's still not as big as Zyraxiel however. The demon's red eyes sweep over us, cold and calculating, before it strides toward Star's crumpled body. Without hesitation, it lifts her limp form and carries her back into the portal, disappearing as quickly as it had come.

"They're not going to punish you for it!" Megan's voice breaks through the silence, shrill and furious. She stares at me with wild eyes, her anger boiling over. "She shouldn't be allowed to survive! She killed Star!"

Her scream echoes off the cold stone walls, filled with venom and desperation. The other women stir, their eyes flickering between Megan and me, uncertainty clouding their faces. But I remain still, my grip on the dagger tightening.

Suddenly, a loud BEEP pierces the air, and the screen flashes to life.

"This is all part of the game." The words burn bright on the screen, cutting through Megan's rage. The tension in the room shifts, heavy and suffocating. She glares at the message, her body trembling, but she's powerless to stop what's happening.

Another message flashes, filling the screen with new instructions:

"All demons will visit their possible chosen ones again. Each will have two hours this time to visit. They may bring gifts."

The portal opens once more, and before anyone can react, Zyraxiel steps through, his massive, dark figure appearing like a shadow pulled from the depths of hell itself. The air grows thick with heat as he moves toward me, his red eyes locking onto mine. Without a word, he gestures for me to follow him, and I rise, my body moving without hesitation.

We sit together, away from the others, his presence wrapping around me like a protective shield. He sits across from me, his towering form somehow more comforting than terrifying now. There's something about him—something dark, yes, but also familiar, a steadying force in this madness.

He reaches into the swirling portal beside him and pulls out several items: more food, water, and another gift—the music player. He hands them to me silently, and I accept, placing them next to the dagger at my side.

"You're spoiling me," I murmur, half-joking, though part of me is deeply relieved to have these things. The warmth of his gifts, the security of being prepared—it steadies me.

Zyraxiel chuckles, the sound deep and rough. "You've earned them."

I glance back at the other women. They watch in silence, their eyes hollow, their bodies tense. None of their demons come for them. Not a single one.

"They're not getting visited," I say, more as an observation than a question.

"They're weak," Zyraxiel replies, his voice filled with disdain. "The only reason they've survived this long is because you made me feed them. Without your requests, they would have starved days ago."

I look at the others, seeing them now for what they truly are—hollow shells clinging to life because of my mercy. Without me, they would have withered away, unable to fend for themselves.

"And now?" I ask, my voice steady.

"Now?" Zyraxiel smirks. "They're as good as dead. Their demons, have stronger claims they want."

I don't flinch. The truth of his words settles deep inside me, cold and final. I did what I had to do to survive, and I'm still here because of it. As for the others? They were never strong enough to make it this far.

I look back at Zyraxiel. "What happens next?"

He leans forward, his red eyes burning into mine. "You prepare for the next test, Haisley. The others are nothing now, mere obstacles. You, however... you're ready. And when it's time, you'll be the one who stands victorious."

I nod, the weight of his words sinking in. I no longer feel the guilt or hesitation that plagued me before. I'm ready. Ready for whatever comes next. Ready to win.

Zyraxiel gives me one last look, filled with something I can't quite place—pride, perhaps—and then he disappears back into the portal. I sit there, clutching the gifts he's given me, the silence of the room pressing in.

The others may watch, they may wait, but I know now—I'm the one who will survive this. Out of these women anyway. I peer at the board, each demon now only has two women left.

I know that I'm not free after this, but surely where ever I go after here, isn't as bad?