“Don’t be unreasonable. My things are in there.”
Chris smirked. The expression made the thick scar on his chin stretch wider. “My things.”
Damien took a step forward but Danni stopped him. “He’s just playing by their rules,” she said. “Let him. With a million pounds you can buy a whole lot more stuff.”
Damien didn’t like it, someone else taking his belongings. He wasn’t the type of person to take shit from bullies like Chris. He was the type of guy to stand up to them. But he also had a temper, a temper he couldn’t always control.
I don’t get involved with confrontation anymore. I just need to stay calm and let it go. Be the bigger man.
“Oh yes!” cried Jade, struggling with a large purple suitcase. “I got my own things.”
“Me too,” said Lewis and Catherine.
It appeared, however, that Tracey and Sarah had the luggage of somebody else. The fact was given away by the disappointed frowns on their faces.
“Who do these belong to?” Sarah asked.
Jules and Patrick put their hands up.
“Then you might as well take them. I wouldn’t feel right wearing somebody else’s clothes. Besides, one of these will be full of men’s clothes.”
“I suppose that I agree,” said Tracey, shrugging her shoulders. The two ladies handed over the luggage to their rightful owners. That left everybody looking at Chris who was still in possession of Damien’s suitcase.
“What you lookin’ at?” he grunted at them.
“Well,” said Jules. “After the kind gesture that Sarah and Tracey just made, are you not going to give Damien his case back?”
“Am I bollocks! I won this fair and square. His skinny shite probably won’t fit me, but it’ll still be better than spending ten days sitting in my own skidmarks. No, sorry, but he’ll have to get over it like a big girl.”
Damien clenched his fists and felt his stomach knot up. Danni placed a hand on his back and rubbed. “Don’t let him get to you. I’m sure this is just some big prank by the producers.”
Chris headed off to the bedroom, wheeling Damien’s trunk behind him like a treasure chest. Damien stared daggers into the man’s thick back every inch of the way until he was completely out of sight.
Damien shook his head and huffed. It best be some kind of prank, because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
6
Damien needed every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to keep calm whilst he watched Chris saunter around in his trainers. He knew the guy was only doing it to get a reaction. It wasn’t worth taking the bait.
Damien knew Chris’s type well. They thought that by provoking a reaction and trying to intimidate people, everyone would just assume they were genuine hard men and back off. The truth in most cases, however, was that those with the most ‘swagger’ had the least to back it up with. Their overly-aggressive manner was a facade designed to win fights without them ever starting. If anybody ever actually called a bully like Chris out on his bullshit, he would probably crumble like a piss-soaked sandcastle.
Damien was sat on a stool in the kitchen. He took a deep breath as he tried to turn his thoughts to matters other than wanting to chin Chris. Aggression was not the answer, Damien’s older, wiser friend, Harry, would often say to him. Violence was for fools, he would comment with a knowing look in his eye. Harry had made his feelings on criminal behaviour very clear on that long ago evening when he’d offered Damien a lifeline, a way out of his then worthless existence. Harry had stated firmly that Damien’s prior thuggery and criminal behaviour would not be tolerated if he was to offer his help. Damien had agreed to change his ways, had wanted to in fact. He was glad for Harry’s help.
And so Damien had trained as a master carpenter, working with Harry every single day and setting up a business. At first, Damien had been excited at the potential to make an honest living, to even strike it rich, but that had quickly died away when Harry insisted on giving most of their profits away to charity. Damien had cried bloody murder when half his pay cheque went to help an old people’s home replace their central heating. Over time, though, he started to see the good that his hard work was doing. The act of charity became deeply satisfying – more satisfying than spending the money he gave away would have been. Despite everything Damien had ever believed about himself, and about life, he was happy to give his money away to those who needed it more. Charity had not just changed Damien’s life – it had changed him as a person. It gave him a clear perspective and unburdened his soul. Previously he had felt like a pack mule, carrying his many sins around his neck and walking an endless, dusty road. Now he was a galloping horse, surrounded on all sides by wonderful green fields. He had been set free.
And Harry was to thank for it.
And now it’s he who needs the charity. After all of the people Harry has helped over the last few years, he deserves to have somebody help him. I’m going to make sure that person is me. I need to pay him back for all that he’s done for me.
“Don’t let Chris wind you up,” said Danni, sitting on the stool beside him in the kitchen. She was wearing a different top now, lent to her by Jules. The two women were about the same size, only Danni had longer, and nicer, legs.
“I’m not letting him get to me,” said Damien, probably unconvincingly. He could hear his teeth grinding between words.
“Good. Because it’s probably best not to mess with that guy.”
Damien huffed. “It’s not Chris that’s worrying me.”
“Then what is it? What are you worried about?”
He looked at her and then looked away. “I’m more worried about me and what I might do to him.”
“HOUSEMATES, ASSEMBLE IN THE LIVING AREA. VOTING IS ABOUT TO COMMENCE.”
Damien stood up with Danni and went over to the sofa to join the other housemates. Chris nodded at Damien from over by the couch. He lifted up one of his trainers and rested it on his knee.
Just ignore him. The only thing I should focus on is staying in the house longer than him. That’s how I’ll beat him.
Everybody sat down on the sofa, backs erect, ready for what came next.
“ALL HOUSEMATES MUST NOW CONDUCT A VOTE FOR WHOM THEY WISH TO UNDERTAKE THE HEAD TO HEAD ELIMINATION. AS LEADER OF THE WINNING GROUP IN TODAY’S TASK, JADE IS EXEMPT FROM THE VOTE.”
“Sound!” said Jade with a catlike grin on her face. She pointed to Damien and nodded. “We’ll start at this end of the sofa and go along one after the other.”
Damien sighed. He hadn’t expected to go first, and was uncomfortable having to name someone openly – not that he had any problem with choosing the ‘who’ or the ‘why’.
He decided to just get it over with. “I vote for Chris, because I don’t like him. I don’t like him at all.”
Chris sneered at Damien, but Damien refused to make eye-contact. The big guy had it in for him anyway, stealing his luggage and flaunting it around the house, so it wasn’t like he had just made a new enemy.
Although it’s worrying that the producers let a sociopath like him in with the rest of us.
Next up was Alex. “I vote for Damien,” he said quickly, “because I feel that he lost us the task earlier.”
Damien sighed. It was a fair enough answer. Perhaps he was responsible.
Jules voted for Chris. Damien had the feeling it was in support of him.
Jade voted for Jules. It seemed like it was in defence of Chris. Alliances were definitely forming.
Sarah voted for Danni because she thought the other woman was ‘a little bit cold.’ Lewis sided with her and voted for Danni too.
Catherine voted for Damien because ‘he didn’t join in last night and drink with everybody else.’
Richard voted adamantly for Lewis. He didn’t explain why.
Patrick voted for Chris and, surprisingly, voiced his dislike of the man being because of him not handing over the luggage to its rightful owner like Sarah and Tracey had. Damien nodded at the
older man in appreciation.
Least somebody is on my side.
Tracey voted for Danni for the same reasons as Sarah. That just left Chris to vote. No mystery as to who the man would vote for.
“I vote for Damien,” Chris said, “because the guy swigs diet coke and spends his time in the kitchen like a poofter.”
Damien laughed it off. The guy was an absolute jerk, but perhaps it highlighted the errors in Damien’s game plan. It was only the first day and people were already voting for him. He would not win the prize money if it continued.
“HOUSEMATES, THE VOTING IS NOW COMPLETE. DAMIEN AND CHRIS BOTH HAVE THREE VOTES EACH. THEY WILL COMPETE AGAINST EACH OTHER IN THE HEAD TO HEAD ELIMINATION TASK. THE LOSER WILL BE REMOVED FROM THE COMPETITION.”
Chris blew Damien a kiss. “Just you and me, little lady. Can’t wait!”
And he calls me a poofter?
Damien said nothing. He wasn’t going to waste his breath talking trash with an imbecile. Whatever happened, one of them was leaving the house very soon, so there was no need to tolerate each other much longer. Certainly no need for a confrontation.
“DAMIEN, CHRIS, PLEASE ENTER THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER. THE OTHER HOUSEMATES CAN WATCH YOUR PROGRESS VIA THE LIVING AREA’S VIEWING SCREEN.”
Damien stood up and walked towards the door. A moment later, Chris overtook him and bumped him aside with his shoulder. Damien scowled.
Bloody wanker!
The two of them stopped in front of the door marked ELIMINATION CHAMBER; the one that had been previously locked.
“Is it open?” Damien asked.
Chris tried the handle and it turned. He stood aside as the door opened. “Ladies first.”
Damien huffed and shoved his way through the door. Inside was a stark white room that hurt his eyes with its brightness. There was no furniture or fixtures of any kind. The space was an empty cube.
Except for a small table in the centre of the room.
The steel table was on wheels, like the kind of thing you saw on forensic cop shows next to a dead body during an autopsy, usually with a whole host of bloody tools on it. This one, however, held only a pair of pistols. Damien stared down at the handguns with concern. Chris went to pick one up, but The Landlord’s voice interrupted him.
“ON THE TABLE IN FRONT OF YOU ARE TWO BB GUNS. THEY ARE LOADED WITH PLASTIC BALL BEARINGS AND ARE NON-LETHAL. HOWEVER, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM AIMING THEM AT ONE ANOTHER. DOING SO WILL RESULT IN DISQUALIFICATION FROM THE TASK.”
Chris winked at Damien. “Might just be worth it,” he said.
There was a whirring sound and a compartment on the back wall opened up. A pair of marksmen targets appeared inside. Damien relaxed as he started to understand the task ahead of him.
It’s just target shooting, nothing sinister.
Then The Landlord said something which confused Damien all over again.
“YOUR BRACELETS CONTAIN ENOUGH NEUROTOXIN TO KILL YOU A HUNDRED TIMES OVER. YOUR NECK COLLARS CONTAIN A COUNTER-AGENT.”
Chris’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders hunched up. “The fuck he just say?”
“I don’t know,” said Damien, unsure if he’d just heard correctly. “It must be a wind-up.”
“IN ONE MINUTE YOUR TASK WILL BEGIN. EACH TIME YOU HIT THE TARGET ON THE OPPOSITE WALL, YOU WILL RELEASE NEUROTOXIN INTO YOUR OPPONENT’S BLOODSTREAM WHILE RELEASING THE COUNTER-AGENT INTO YOUR OWN.”
“The hell are you talking about?” Chris shouted at the ceiling. “Nobody is putting anything into my bloodstream. Let me the hell out of here.”
“FAILURE TO PARTICIPATE WILL RESULT IN EXPULSION FROM THE HOUSE.”
“Fine,” said Chris. “EXPEL ME. I QUIT.”
There was silence in the room. Chris looked around anxiously. Damien expected men in the eyeball-logo jumpers to come piling in any second to remove them.
But no one appeared.
Then Chris cried out.
Damien stared at the other man. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Chris’s entire face was beetroot red and drool spilled from the corner of his mouth. A vein throbbed on his forehead.
“Jesus,” said Damien, rushing over to help him. “They’re poisoning you. They’re actually doing it.”
“It…burns! I feel like I have fire in…in my veins.” He scratched at his wrists around the bracelets like a heroin addict seeing imaginary spiders on their skin.
Damien spun around in a circle, looking for an exit or something to help, but the room was closed on all sides. “Stop this,” he screamed. “Stop this right now.”
Chris’s agony continued to grow. The man dropped to his knees and bellowed in agony. He sounded like a wounded bear.
Damien took shallow breaths as he tried to think of something he could do. But how could he do something when he didn’t even understand what was happening?
Then he had an idea.
Damien picked up one of the BB pistols and aimed it at Chris’s target. He pulled the trigger rapidly, missing with every shot, but gradually adjusting his aim. Finally a ball bearing hit the target. It flashed green and let out an audible ping!
He fired several more times until Chris’s bellows of pain became shallow whimpers.
He’s getting better. The counter-agent is working.
But then Damien was struck by an unbearable pain. It started in his wrists and seemed to shoot right up into his skull. His chest went tight and his stomach distended. He dropped to his knees and began panting. His fingers seized up, locking the BB pistol in his hand.
“Help…help me,” he begged Chris.
Chris had risen back to his feet unsteadily and, while still in obvious pain, he seemed to be doing much better. His cheeks had lost their redness and the vein in his forehead had stopped throbbing. He went over to the table and looked down at the remaining gun.
“That’s it,” Damien said. “You need to shoot my target. I need the counter-agent.”
Chris looked down at Damien and nodded as if he understood. He picked up the gun and raised it towards Damien’s target.
Yes, that’s it. God, please hit the target.
Then Chris adjusted his aim and fired several shots upon his own target.
More burning hot agony flooded through Damien’s wrists. He cried out for mercy, but Chris continued to fire at his own target.
More of the neurotoxin entered Damien’s veins.
He felt himself dying. It wasn’t a feeling of fading or slipping away, but more an immense pressure building to a crescendo that would ultimately reach a breaking point and end his life.
Damien collapsed onto his side.
He’s going to kill me if he keeps firing.
God…it hurts so bad.
Damien realised that there was only one way to stay alive. He raised his BB pistol up, tried to aim it, but his hand was shaking. Tremors wracked his entire body.
He managed to fire the pistol, but got nowhere near the target.
Chris’s target pinged and went green again.
Damien’s agony increased.
He gritted his teeth and tensed every muscle in his body. He fought with everything he had to keep his hand from shaking for just one single fleeting second while he aimed.
Just…need…to…keep…still….
Aim…carefully…
He squeezed the trigger slowly.
The gun fired.
Then fired again.
Both shot’s hit the target, lighting it green. Ping! Ping!
Damien felt a pinch in his neck as the counter-agent entered his system. He felt better immediately. The tremors stopped. The pain in his muscles subsided.
He rose gingerly to his feet, breathing deeply to deal with the lingering pain, but knowing he had to move fast if he had any chance of staying alive.
Chris continued firing wildly and managed to hit the target again. Damien’s agony increased but he ignored it, pushed it out of focus. He took careful aim at his own target and let off another three shots. T
wo of them hit. Ping! Ping!
Chris cursed loudly. His face was growing beetroot again. He continued firing his pistol rapidly, but was now shaking too much to hit the target.
Damien aimed carefully again, taking his time, controlling his breaths. He let off two more shots. Both hit.
Ping! Ping!
Chris screamed in agony and fell down to his knees. He placed his pistol down on the floor and put his hands up in surrender. “I give up. Please, Damien, stop. I’m sorry, just don’t fire anymore.”
Damien took his finger off the trigger. He looked down at Chris and wondered how the guy had ever seemed so imposing. He was just a trembling mess now, whimpering on the floor like a wounded kitten.
Damien lowered the pistol to his side and looked up at the ceiling. “Landlord, this game is over. Chris quits, so let us out of here.”
“THE TASK WILL END WHEN ONE OF YOU IS DEAD.”
Damien shook his head. “Are you insane? You can’t just kill people for…what is this anyway, entertainment?”
“THE TASK WILL END WHEN ONE OF YOU IS DEAD.”
“Then you’ll have to kill me. I won’t be responsible for taking another man’s life. Not even a snivelling piece of shit like Chris.”
Chris leapt to his feet and roared. The BB pistol was back in his hand. “Screw you, bitch!” He fired his weapon at Damien, again and again and again.
Something sharp bit Damien’s left eye, sending him spiralling to the ground in shock. He cried out as half his vision suddenly disappeared.
Oh shit, oh shit. I’m blind.
Chris continued to fire the pistol, the ball bearings bouncing painfully off Damien’s skull as he covered up as much as possible.
There was a hiss and the targets on the wall disappeared back behind the sliding panels from which they had appeared. The Landlord came back over the speakers.
“HOUSEMATE, CHRIS. YOU WERE INFORMED THAT AIMING YOUR PISTOL AT YOUR COMPETITOR WOULD RESULT IN DISQUALIFICATION. HOUSEMATE DAMIEN IS THE WINNER.”
Damien was still on the floor, clutching at his eye as it wept an ocean of salty liquid down his cheek. He needed a doctor. The damage could be severe.
Chris continued aiming the pistol at Damien and was snarling like a mongrel. “You piece of shit,” he shouted. “You don’t deserve…”
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