The Order

42

The days began to blur together and after a while, I wasn't sure how long I've been here. But either way, I was hoping to be dead by now.

The only rest I've gotten was when I passed out from the pain. Sometimes it was in the middle of Kenji's little torture session, other times it was when the heavy metal music was blasting through the speakers.

I tried dying, but despite my best efforts, Kenji would send in a crew of doctors to resuscitate me when I got to close to the brink of death. They would bandage my wounds, stitch up any cuts that went too deep. Kenji made sure they didn't do anything for my pain, they just did the bare minimum to keep me alive.

Each day was different. Kenji would use different tools on me, and eventually, nearly every inch of my skin was covered in blood and bruises. But one thing was consistent – The lashes. That was what he always started with. He would have his men hang me from the wall, turn me over, and give me so many lashes I lost count. The first time wasn't as bad, but when he started reopening the wounds again and again... the pain was almost unbearable. The lack of sleep was also taking its toll on me. Unfortunately, the delusion that clouded my mind wasn't enough to kill me.

Over the past few days, I thought a lot about my life as I laid awake on the cold, hard floor. Being tortured really gives you time to think about things and put things in perspective.

At first, thinking of Liam helped me get through this, helped me disassociate through the pain and torture. But thinking of him only brought on more pain and sadness. I tried to put up a front, tried to be angry with him and maybe it's the delusion speaking but the truth is... I think I loved him. I still love him. And deep down, somewhere within me I believe he loved me too. But there was one thing that haunted me, one thing that made my heart twist at the thought of it.

I never told him.

He said to me. Our last conversation he said those three words, and I never said it back. He never knew that I loved him. Maybe if I told him how I felt instead of bottling it in the entire time, things could have been different.

There was a part of me that believed that I deserved this. That I deserved this unspeakable torture... that I deserved to die. I don't even know how many lives I've taken. After a while, it doesn't faze you. You stop thinking of people as people. Forget that they're mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers. You only see them as a target that needs to be taken care of. I've done terrible things, and it's only fitting that my death cause me even a fraction of the pain that I've caused others.

But the other part of me, the louder and more chaotic side... couldn't stop thinking about killing Kenji Sato in the most violent and brutal ways possible. He had broken me, but I'd be dammed if I let him see that. He was the only remaining crew member that killed my sister, and I'm going to make sure that I kill him, even if it's the last thing I ever did. If I was going to die in this hell hole... so was he.

I was laying on the cold, hard concrete floor as before I lifted my head as the door to the room opened, and Kenji walked inside with his Oni mask adorning his face. The door closed behind him as he made his way towards me.

"Good morning, Mila. How'd you sleep?" He said, and edge to his voice. He placed his Oni mask on the table beside him before he tilted his head, examining each tool that was laid out in front of him. His burns were grotesque, the scabs peeling and shedding from his face. The handsome man that Kenji once was now nothing but a memory.

"Like a baby." I said. I didn't even recognize my own voice. It was raspy, dry from the lack of water and weak from the endless torture. He gave me a forced smile as he looked down at the table in front of him.