Two seconds later, Jules could take no more and yanked her hand free. She collapsed to her knees and convulsed. Her screaming continued as she clutched her burnt appendage between her knees.
The other housemates continued to endure the agony. It grew worse every second.
Damien felt dizzy. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt. A deep, burning pinch that felt like a million red hot pins being pushed all the way down to the bone. The only thing that made him keep his hand in the acid was knowing that the other housemates were in just as much pain as he was. He just had to hold on a little longer, outlast one more person.
Tracey was the one to break next. The pain tolerance she had showed in the previous tasks had not gotten her through this one. She pulled her hand out of the acid and screamed obscenities at the sky. As soon as she was away from the table, Richard, Danni, Jade, and Damien all yanked their own hands free of the acid. They cursed and snarled and they fought against the agony. The pain did not subside even though they had removed their hands from the bowls.
“HOUSEMATES TRACEY AND JULES WILL COMPETE IN TONIGHT’S HEAD TO HEAD.”
“We need to go wash this stuff off,” said Tracey, apparently uninterested in the proclamations of The Landlord that signalled her possibly ensuing death. She was a person that focused on the problems at hand, not the ones ahead.
“No,” Damien shook his head. “I’m sure water will make it worse. It reacts.”
“Screw that,” said Richard. “I need cold water.”
Everyone hurried inside and straight over to the kitchen. They shoved themselves into a huddle at the kitchen sink. To Damien’s relief, the cold water didn’t seem to be making anything worse. Richard sighed orgasmically as the cold water numbed his hand and seemed to gain relief from it.
“It’s helping,” Tracey informed Damien.
Damien nodded. “I’m glad I was wrong.”
Everyone shoved their hands out in front of them and took turns getting their scorched flesh beneath the tap. Danni headed away from them, though.
“I’m going to the toilet,” she said. “I can use the water there rather than fight with you all over a single tap.”
Damien thought it was a good idea, although not exactly sanitary. He let her go.
Once he got his turn under the kitchen tap he gasped. The flesh of his hand was bright red and bubbling with the worst blisters he had ever seen. Blood seeped out of every pore and mixed with the water from the tap.
My whole hand is going to end up scarred.
If I live long enough to heal, that is.
Jade grabbed a beer from the fridge and downed it in a single, long gulp. Then she grabbed another one and started on it a little slower.
Damien turned around and opened the cupboard that housed the bandages they had got from the pantry after Richard’s Bunsen burner task. He quickly got to work handing them out along with some antiseptic gauze in square packets.
He tore open his own packet with his teeth and laid the gauze on the back of his hand. It stung and reignited the pain. It didn’t get any better as he wrapped the bandage around his hand and fastened it tightly.
Everybody helped one another get their wounds bandaged up before starting on what was left of the beers. Some hard liquor would have been better, but they had to take what they could find.
When Danni came out of the toilet she was clutching her injured hand under her armpit. Damien didn’t see how the pain wasn’t made worse by the friction, but didn’t think about it too much. He handed her some gauze and asked if she needed any help getting her hand bandaged. She took the first aid supplies but declined his offer of help. Shrugging, Damien went to the fridge and grabbed himself one of the beers. It felt good to drink again. It made him feel more like the man he used to be. That man had been pretty repugnant, but he was also a tough son of a bitch. And being tough, right now, was exactly what he needed.
Whether it was the hormones brought on by the pain, or if something had merely snapped inside of Damien emotionally, he suddenly felt alive and ready. His senses were alert and all of the worries and concerns of his old life had been washed away as just one thing now became important: survival.
I’m Damien Banks and I don’t shit myself for no one.
Whatever you got for me next, Mr Landlord, bring it on.
You just better hope that it kills me.
3
“HOUSEMATES TRACEY AND JULES, please enter the Elimination Chamber.”
Tracey wore a look of steely determination. Jules whimpered and fought with the rest of them as they were forced to grab a hold of her and shove her towards the door. She begged them not to make her go in the other room, but none of them listened. They had no choice. They hated sending her to a possible death, but it was either that or they all died for insubordination.
Damien felt like a hypocrite as he stood back and did nothing. He couldn’t actively make himself force the poor girl inside the Elimination Chamber, but he wasn’t doing anything to prevent it either. He just stood and watched as Richard, Danni, and Jade dragged the poor woman across the carpet.
Although I’m sure I wouldn’t be as sympathetic if I saw her video. Funny how your view of someone can be so wrong. If anything, the videos I have seen have opened my eyes to some things.
I wonder what my video will show.
Damien wished some wonderful plan would come to him – a tarnished gem of an idea that slowly became a clear-cut diamond of inspiration – but nothing entered his mind. As much as he wanted to do something for Jules, there was no course of action that made any sense to him.
So he stood by and did nothing as Tracey and Jules were shoved inside what would no doubt become their torture chamber. Their only hope was to be the victor in whatever task was presented to them. That was what had gotten Damien through the two occasions he had entered that room.
The television screen lit up with the live feed and everybody sat down to watch. Today the white cube room was occupied by what looked like a pair of old-fashioned pommel horses, except the wooden body of the structure was pointed like a pyramid – an oak wedge on sturdy legs. On both sides of the wedge was what looked like stirrups. They were attached to the ground by steel cables.
“HOUSEMATES TRACEY AND JULES, PLEASE STEP UP ONTO THE APPARATUS IN FRONT OF YOU BY PLACING YOUR FEET INSIDE THE STIRRUPS.”
Tracey and Jules both stood there for a moment, stiff like boards. Tracey was the first to take the step forward, probably hoping that enthusiasm would be the thing to get her through. She climbed up onto the wooden horse and secured both bare feet inside the stirrups.
Then, visibly shaking, Jules did the same. She was weeping as she climbed up and secured herself in place.
Danni was sat next to Damien on the sofa. She leant in and asked him, “What are those things? They look like a pair of badly made rocking horses.”
Damien shook his head. “I don’t know what they are, but I’m starting to get an idea of what they’re intended for.”
“HOUSEMATES TRACEY AND JULES, PLEASE STAND BY. THE TASK IS ABOUT TO BEGIN.”
There was a loud clank as the metal stirrups clamped around the two women’s ankles. Both of them yelped in surprise and perhaps pain, depending on how tight the ankle cuffs were.
“THE APPARATUS ON WHICH YOU SIT IS CALLED A SPANISH DONKEY. IT IS A DEVICE DATING BACK TO TIMES OF THE INQUISITION. ITS INTENTION WAS TO EXTRACT CONFESSIONS. THAT IS ITS PURPOSE TODAY.”
There was a short silence while the Landlord’s words seemed to hang in the air. Then he continued.
“EACH OF YOU IS HERE FOR A REASON. EACH OF YOU KNOW THE SECRET THAT CONDEMNS YOU. YOU HAVE SPENT YOUR LIVES TRYING TO HIDE YOUR ONE BIG SIN, BUT THERE ARE NO SECRETS IN THIS HOUSE. YOUR PAST HAS BEEN PLACED UPON THE SCALES OF JUSTICE AND BEEN FOUND WANTING. REVEAL YOUR BIGGEST SIN…OR DIE.”
Silence filled the house, both inside and outside of the Elimination chamber. Nothing seemed to be happening and Tracey and Jules shifted uncomfortably
on their wooden perches.
Then there was an almighty grinding of unseen gears and the two ladies cried out in pain.
“What’s happening?” Danni asked. Her brow was wrinkled and it was clear that she did not understand what was going on. The view on the television screen showed no obvious cause for the women’s pain, but there was indeed a subtle difference, and Damien noticed it.
“The steel chains have gone taught. The stirrups are being pulled towards the floor.”
Danni looked at him for a moment and then at the television screen. She seemed to finally understand. “My God!” she said, cupping her bandaged hand to her mouth.
Inside the elimination Chamber, there was another sound of grinding gears.
Tracey and Jules bellowed in pain. Their bodies were being pulled down onto the wooden wedge and the pressure was threatening to split them apart from the groin as their legs were yanked down on either side. Both women thrashed and fumbled at their wooden perches, trying to scramble away, but their ankles held them in place.
There was another grinding of gears.
Jules begged for mercy; so did Tracey.
The gears turned again.
Jules threw up on herself and wobbled wearily on the horse. The pain was threatening to tug her into unconsciousness.
Tracey shook her head and gritted her teeth. It seemed like she was trying with all her might not to cry out. Perhaps she was trying to prevent herself from confessing whatever it was that The Landlord demanded she admit to.
Another grinding of gears and the women’s legs looked like they might pop apart at the knees. Their entire bodies were stretched taught and the wedge seemed to drive up several inches into their vaginas.
“It’s going to split them in half,” said Danni.
Another grinding of gears and the ankle restraints tightened yet again. The shackles were now several inches closer to the ground than when the task had started.
Jules seemed to collapse in place, her shoulders and head slumping sideways but her lower body unable to move. Despite her physical breakdown, she began to mutter something. The speakers in the ceiling amplified so that everyone could hear her words.
“I…I…slept with my sister’s husband. Then…one night…I found her in…the bathtub. She had…cut herself….”
Damien tilted his head and listened intently. The story sounded oddly familiar.
Jules seemed to lose consciousness for a moment, but then lifted her head and carried on.
“I…I…wanted her husband and to have…to have our business…our salon…all to myself. I left her there to die. I didn’t call an ambulance. I just went…home. But her husband…he didn’t want me…he blamed me…he closed the salon. He left me with…nothing.”
“HOUSEMATE JULES, YOU HAVE CONFESSED YOUR BIGGEST SIN. CONGRATULATIONS.”
The ankle restraints around Jule’s ankles sprung open. She slumped sideways and fell awkwardly to the floor. There she lay, panting and moaning.”
“HOUSEMATE TRACEY. YOU HAVE NOT CONFESSED YOUR SINS, THEREFORE YOU WILL DIE.”
Tracey was visibly weak from the pain, but her voice was strong as she shouted up at the ceiling. “No, please. I’ll confess. I’ll tell you the-”
The gears cranked.
Then they cranked again.
Tracey howled in agony. Blood began to leak down her legs and drip from the tips of her toes.
The gears cranked again.
And again.
And again.
Tracey’s eyes began to roll into the back of her head. Her body was now pulled so tightly against the wooden pyramid that it seemed like a part of her body.
The gears cranked again.
Tracey’s head slumped forward. She was either dead or unconscious.
The gears continued turning.
Clank! Clank! Clank!
Tracey’s body began to split. Her legs pulled apart like the wishbone from a turkey. Her body lost its form, no long even resembling the shape of a human.
The gears finally stopped turning.
“HOUSEMATES, PLEASE ENTER THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER AND REMOVE HOUSEMATE JULES. THE PANTRY HAS BEEN RESTOCKED WITH SUPPLIES. ENJOY.”
4
Five housemates left and Jules in such a state that she might not even make it through the night.
They had dragged her out of the Elimination Chamber and onto the sofa. She was bleeding from between her legs, but it wasn’t arterial. Her internal workings had been badly damaged, but luckily it seemed like nothing had ruptured. Tracey on the other hand had looked like she’d exploded. Blood pooled beneath her body as if every organ in her body had torn open. The smell of faeces and urine had also been present. The housemates had been sure to avoid her as they dragged out Jules.
Now everybody was sitting on the sofa, drinking the restocked supplies of alcohol and staring into space. They were all obviously thinking about their own survival and how impossible it seemed, but also perhaps about their existence and how they had spent it. Damien was certainly assessing a few things in his own mind.
He thought about his friend, Harry. Harry would have told him not to lose hope, that God would protect those who deserved protecting.
But if I’m in this house, doesn’t that mean that I’m beyond salvation? Isn’t this house full of deplorable sinners? If I’m here then I must be one, too. The fact that I don’t know what I’ve done must mean that I’m the worst of all. I don’t even see the consequences of my own actions. I am unrepentant.
Damien rubbed at his face and felt the fuzzy tiredness in his eyes. The longer this all went on, the more and more he needed sleep. With a bedroom containing Catherine’s corpse and the sofa not designed for napping on, it was difficult to snooze long and deep. The exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. But as much as Damien felt tired, he still also felt strong and fearless. He knew that with the right opportunity, he would still have what it took to strike. His only intention now, since survival seemed impossible, was to enact revenge on at least one of the monsters that kept him here. For they were monsters, too.
The television screen came on. It displayed the word WHORE. An audio tape recording of a man’s voice began to play.
“Tracey was one of the best politicians I know. She fought for equality, human rights, and safety within our society. I don’t know why she eventually quit at such a young age, but then a lot of things in politics cannot always be explained. I had heard rumours that she was planning to move abroad with the small fortune she had inherited from her mother.
My respect ran much deeper than mere attraction for her. I was sad when she decided that she no longer wished to date me, but there wasn’t much I could do, so I said goodbye and tried to move on.
A few months later, when I began feeling under the weather – I was constantly getting the sniffles and stomach aches – I went to see my doctor in Hammersmith. He had a pretty grotty office, but he was good at what he did and I had always been a happy patient of his. Still, when he told me that my blood test results came back HIV positive, I doubted him. I thought maybe the old guy had lost it. But when my results came back the second time, from a different physician, I had no choice but to accept what I had been told.”
The tape crackled for a moment, but then cleared up.
“The thing that I couldn’t get my head around was that the only person I had slept with in the last year or so was Tracey. I couldn’t fathom that it may have been her that had given it to me. She must not have known. I was furious at her, but also saddened and sympathetic as a fellow sufferer of a terrible disease that we both now shared. I thought I would be delivering devastating news to her, but when I told her, she didn’t seem worried at all. A couple weeks later, she gave me a call to say that her own results had come back negative. I didn’t understand how that was possible. The stupid fool that I was, I even apologised to her for causing her undue stress and worry. She told me not to worry about it but to tell no one that we had slept together as it could damage h
er reputation. Of course I promised to keep my mouth shut.”
The tape crackled again, this time for longer.
“It wasn’t until James Jeffrey stepped down from the cabinet, due to undisclosed health reasons, that I became suspicious. I mixed in the same circles as James and I also knew that he was a friend of Tracey’s. I went and visited him at home. After some gentle prodding, he admitted that he had HIV and that he had also given it to his wife. He admitted to cheating on her frequently and was now paying the price. When I asked for some names, he reluctantly gave them to me. Tracey was among the list of women.”
After some digging – not all of it legal – I managed to discover that Tracey had been diagnosed with the disease two years before I even slept with her. She had HIV and was spreading it around without any shred of a conscience. She had given it to me in the throes of passion that, at the time, I assumed were the beginnings of real love and affection. I had been upset when she had ended it, but what I felt at that moment went far beyond mere anger. I wanted the woman dead. After all, she had killed me, one way or the other. I thought about going to the Police, but I knew that it would destroy the reputations of any fellow politician that had been involved with her. Many were innocent like me. I decided to deal with things unofficially. I once heard about an organisation that could solve these kinds of problems. Luckily a friend of mine had their contact information – he had used them to take care of a man who had assaulted his wife. I paid their asking price happily. I might die one day due to this disease, but at least I will go knowing that Tracey died first. Revenge is one of the few pleasures left to me.”
The tape crackled and ended.
The television changed from displaying the word WHORE to the grid of twelve silhouettes. Beneath the photo of Jules was the word, CHEAT. Beneath the photo of Tracey was the word WHORE. The remaining silhouettes were attached to the words PEDDLER, CRUSADER, MURDERER, and TRAITOR.
DAY 7
Damien was sat alone in the living area, cracking his knuckles as he put some of his mental ducks in a row. Everybody else, surprisingly, was enjoying the hot tub in the garden, smoking fags and a new supply of alcohol from the newly reinforced pantry. Although the bubbling water was grimy, the trace amount of chlorine was still the best way available to get clean inside the house. Damien himself would probably join them a little later.
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