Page 37 of The Killing Game

I stare blankly.

Dead. He’s supposed to be dead.

“I watched you die. You had an ax to your back. You were bleeding. You told me to run!”

Jason laughs, low and deep. It sends shivers down my spine. Slowly, rising from the chair, he saunters over to where I’m held captive in the center of the room. His midnight amber eyes are on mine the entire time, a burning desire behind them. To kill or to fuck, I can’t be sure.

“I did in fact have an ax in my back and I was bleeding. Good job. What an astute observation you’ve made, captain.” Jason grabs the hem of his sweatshirt and pulls it over his head, discarding it on the floor. Strapped to his body is a tan vest with Velcro attached to his chest over both shoulders. He does a spin for me, like a model at a fashion show. The back of the vest reveals a splattering of red accompanied by a deep gash between his shoulder blades.

“Nothing a little Kevlar, duct tape, and a bag of watered down ketchup can’t fake.”

I gape at him in disbelief. “Where did you find that?”

Jason twirls like a ballerina, showing off the ripped vest.

“Oh, this dusty, old thing? Found it in the safe while I was grabbing weapons. Turns out, it came in handy since Tyler was ready to kill my ass along with you guys.”

“FUCK. YOU. Jason. Rot in hell!”

I try moving as far away as I can in my captive state. My brain clicks back into survival mode. I’m not doing this again. I was supposed to be safe! It’s obviously useless. I’m locked in place. Even if I could escape, I can barely walk, let alone run.

Jason takes his time reaching me, his large, muscular frame outlined by the shadows behind him. A demon stalking his soul to claim. He drags out each step, assessing me with hungry desire. The sounds of Velcro releasing fills the space as he removes the vest. Reaching where I lay helpless, he traces the outline of my body on the table. His long, bloodstained index finger drags along the smooth table. My skin prickles with anticipation. He’s so close to touching me, yet so far away all at once. He’s watching my body react with each movement of his hand. I try to clamp my legs closed to avoid him touching my most sensitive parts. The muscles in his jaw feather before a smirk outlines his face. He’s enjoying this game.

Disgusting. I knew he was a kinky asshole, I didn’t know he was a demented masochist. Even I draw the line at snuff films to get off and yet he’s doing this live, in person. It makes my stomach roll. Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down with my naivety, thinking my past wouldn’t come back to haunt me.

“Jason, let me go. I need medical attention. My leg. I’m going to bleed out,” I plead.

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of where his finger is tracing on the table. He shrugs. The smirk disappears from his chiseled features. It’s replaced with a look of indifference, like he’s thinking of how to answer. He continues to trace around my body, careful to not touch me. Silence spreads between us– it’s unsettling. My breath hitches each time I feel his heated touch graze against my skin. I’m on fire, waiting for him to touch me or kill me. I don’t care whichever, just put me out of this misery.

Jason sighs and takes a step back after what seems like an eternity. He squares his shoulders and shakes his head, clearing his mind.

“You won’t. At least not now. I pulled a Jigsaw and cauterized your leg when you were passed out. No major veins were hit. You’re patched up long enough for me to have my fun.”

“A Jigsaw?” I ask, confusion lacing my words.

“Come on, Ashe,” he drawls, dragging out my name like we’re suddenly best friends again. “Jigsaw. The Saw movies? Saw 1’s escape? They cauterize the leg on a heated water pipe. Even you should know that reference.”

I somehow find the energy to scoff at him. “That wasn’t Jigsaw who lost their leg, idiot. That was Lawrence and it was just his foot.”

Jason shrugs nonchalantly, “Then consider yourself lucky you still have everything intact.”

“Oh, yeah. So lucky that you spared my life instead of brutally murdering me like Sam and Colton,” I snide at him. “I should be so grateful that my captor saved my life. However should I repay you?”

Jason locks eyes with mine. Darkness burns in their golden depths. I try my damnedest to plead with my eyes to release me.

I thought we were friends, Jason. Please, let me go.

“You could choke on my cock until you stop breathing,” he sneers.

“I should’ve never fucked you! You’re nothing but a selfish, demented cunt. Your dick isn’t even that good of a lay.” I’m screaming at him, thrashing against the table. The metal bites into my bare skin. If he won’t let me go, then I’m fighting to the death.

“One: We both know damn well that’s a lie, Ashe. You loved having my thick cock split you in half. Two: Cunt is a little extreme and unbecoming of a lady.” Jason turns away from me, rummaging on the couch just out of sight.

“FUCK. YOU. JASON.” I yell each word with conviction.

“And, three,” He turns back to me, a familiar knife in hand. “As you wish. Just remember you asked for this.”

He stalks back towards me wielding the glimmering blade I used hours earlier on him. The veins in his hand pop as he tightens his grip around the handle. I watch as he plays with the knife in his hands. The swirls of black ink on his forearms dance with each flex of muscle as he twists it this way and that.