What happens when a bunch of killers are forced to live together?
BATTLE OF THE KILLERS is a reality show that follows Betinia Woods, a girl kidnapped and forced to live in an underground bunker with twelve other killers. The bunker is equipped wit...
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KHAN. Calm, intelligent, blank-faced Khan. What was he doing? I stumbled behind Chi and Yaz in the hallway and peered over their shoulders to see Khan.
And Demo.
His arm snaked around her gauzed-wrapped middle, clutching her to the front of his body from behind. A weird circular blade rested at her throat, a thin stream of red leaking from the tip.
This girl really couldn't catch a break.
"Let m-m-me go." Her feminine wails bounced off the wooden walls, as paper-thin blood trails dripped from the ugly gashes on her tanned cheek and shoulder blade.
Khan dug the metal into her collarbone, rousing a whiny whimper from her throat. "Get Gmie out here."
Demo trembled, cheeks sticky with wetness. "I c-can't—can't..." Globs of murky brown snot oozed from her nose, slipping into her mouth with every sharp pant. "P-please."
"Demo." The way Khan said her name was like a gentle breeze — that soft wind that happens right before a hurricane hits. "What am I known for?"
"Huh?" she asked, looking confused.
"I'll repeat it," Khan said softly, bringing the edge of the knife a little closer to her neck. "What am I know for?" He said the words like he was explaining something to a child.
"I d-don't kn—UGK." Demo choked on her words, body convulsing as Khan dug his fingers into her injured belly, assaulting her healing knife wound. The once white gauzes turned red under his harsh fingertips.
"I'm fucking smart," Khan whispered against her cheek, tone coming out dark and sultry. "So, don't speak to me like the dense, uneducated peons that you usually deal with. You're the only one who can get that bony bitch out of her room, so do it." Those once gooey eyes mutated into dusky, toxic pools, face morphing into stone.
"Pl-please don't make me," Demo whispered through her tears. "P-please."
I wrinkled my face, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Khan never did anything without a plan and a purpose, but why did he want Gmie? I didn't understand anything, but my instincts told me to just support him and go with it.
Khan mushed his cheek against hers, using the tip of his tongue to lick her jaw. "Tears. They're nothing but oil, water, and mucus. Fickle things really. They mean nothing. They garner no sympathy from me."
"K-khan — plea-please," she stuttered, shivering.
"You're pissing me off, Demo, and I don't like to be pissed off. I find it a waste of time and energy." He skimmed the circular blade across her chest, causing a thin incision. She sobbed. "So, I would prefer you just do what I ask, and not make me ruin my nice clothes by slitting your throat."
"Please—"
"Did you know that you have four jugular veins in your neck?" His voice came out calming but rough at the same time, tightening his hand on the handle of the knife. "And this blade will cut through all of them before you can shed your next tear. It'll be a slow painful death."
