Death of a Prince | ✓

EP 23: VICTIM HAS MORE THAN ONE FACE

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WARNING: descriptions of macabre re-telling toward the end.

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EPISODE TWENTY THREE

'victim has more than one face'

    

    

IT WAS A few days since one of Aoi's men— Kei she called him — had punctured a small slit across my throat. I wanted to fight, I really did, but Kei's hand was controlled against the knife and the other held my jaw when he whispered, as quiet and as close as he possibly could to prevent Aoi from hearing, "I might hit something— a vein or an artery, so don't move. She only needs proof."

I stared at him through glassy tears, but as soon as the blood was drawn after a deep, searing pain, I didn't notice Aoi had stood until I heard the loud clicks of her phone taking pictures. I tried to hold the wound to stop it from gushing blood— but Kei took both of my hands and kept it down. He shook his head.

"Just a few photos, dear. Ooh, don't you think this would be better in polaroids or would that be too dramatic? Well?" She laughed as Kei kept silent and I sniffed out my tears. "You are bleeding out. That's enough. Kei, from now on you're in charge of her. Make sure she's tied and bounded— we're leaving now before Cordelia zeroes in on our location."

That was true for the most part of the next two days.

We had jumped around places every few hours, never staying long just in case Cordelia was planning a rendezvous rescue mission. Kei was in charged of me, especially when Aoi wasn't with us. After that day she had him puncture my throat, she only came back when she needed more. Mostly it was my blood, drawing out fresh ones in a syringe, now easily took from light cuts on my arms, and then sending them back to Cordelia and the others. She was constantly on her phone, sometimes smiling or snickering— sometimes she relied messages of what was happening on the other side, mostly the fact that they've received my 'proof of life' and though Cordelia was begrudgingly okay with it, her brother was not.

When she sent the photo, Cordelia had apparently reigned most of her 'contacts' and eased up— letting Aoi work on her plans. For now, as long as Aoi kept sending proofs that I was alive— fresh blood everyday, no photos anymore since she didn't want the background to be seen, too many variables — they were at her mercy.

On the second day, nighttime by the gist of it, I was moved to a ride that took a few hours— enough for the rattle of the van, though squished beside two anonymous people, one of them I guessed was Kei but I wouldn't put a bet on it— we arrived somewhere off the road I assumed. Because as soon as I was outside, the air was great; gone was the putrid scents of dank, stuffy places. This was fresh air. And from the crickets, the swept of trees— it sounded very close to a forest.

As soon as a metal was slammed— I was guessing a van's door — I was titled off my grid; hands swept on the back of my legs, then my back. A muscled body and a definitive groan at tilting my weight to a more secure position.

As soon as I started squirming being carried, starting to raise my voice against the gag on my mouth, someone else— someone far away — laughed while the one who held me, groaned again. "I need to carry you since we're going through roots and rocks." Kei. And he sounded too close for comfort. "Your eyes need to be covered and I'm not about to play that game where I try not to face plant you. Or help navigate the blind, which admittedly would be funny but it would take too long. This way, it'll be over in minutes without you slowing us down. So shut up and take all the help you need. Some of them would have no qualms dragging you in less than perfect conditions."