Day 6

The night passes in tense silence. I check the cameras periodically, watching the three remaining girls as they attempt to sleep. Emily curls into a ball, hugging herself tightly as if trying to disappear. Talia lies awake, staring at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. Astrid remains sitting up, her back pressed against the wall, legs folded beneath her. She doesn't sleep.

Dawn creeps into the dungeon, the dim artificial lights flickering to life automatically. I stand in the observation room, hands clasped behind my back, watching the girls stir. Emily wakes up, flinching as she remembers where she is. Astrid and Talia who didn’t sleep, remain motionless on their mats.

Three pairs of eyes turn toward me as I enter the room. Each woman knows what comes next – they've seen it happen to their friends, have heard their screams and pleas. Astrid doesn't move, just watches me approach with those pale blue eyes that seem to see right through me.

Emily whimpers when I approach them.

"Please," she whispers, her voice faint. "I just want to go home."

I don't answer, just stretch out my hand with three sticks in it.

Astrid draws first, her hand moving mechanically. She reveals the stick.

Long.

Emily draws next, her stick wavering in her grip, its length identical to Astrid’s.

Talia already understands that the only stick left in my hand is a short one. Her face drains of color as she realizes what that means.

"No," she breathes, her voice scarcely audible. "Please, I don't want to die."

Her eyes dart from me to the other girls, then to the glass partition where the torture chambers wait beyond.

Astrid doesn't react at all. She just watches, her expression blank, as Talia begins to cry silently.

Looking at her, I suddenly feel compassion that I thought I already lost, traces of my humanity reminding me they still exist. I squirm inside – it was much easier for me to kill these girls when they were brash and defiant, not like... this.

Before I consciously decide to do it, I'm pulling her into a hug.

She stiffens – expecting violence, degradation, the usual script. But then she relaxes into me, sobbing against my chest. My hand strokes through her ash-brown hair, feeling the soft strands beneath my fingers. She clings to me, arms wrapping around my waist as if trying to physically anchor herself to life.

And something shifts.

This feels... good. Not arousing. Not powerful. Just... human. Connected.

When was the last time someone just held me? When was the last time I held someone without it being a prelude to violence?

"I'm scared," she whispers into my shirt. "Please don't make me go in there."

I don't answer immediately, just continue stroking her hair while she trembles against me. When I finally speak, my words are quiet but firm.

"I know," I hear myself say.

And I do know. For the first time, I actually understand what I'm putting them through.

"I won't lie to you, Talia. You're going to die today. But I will try to make it... more bearable." I hold her tight, listening to her heartbeat so close to mine. “Drowning would be a less painful option.”

Talia pulls back slightly, wiping at her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. Her body still trembles against me, but her expression hardens with resolve. The terror hasn't left her – I can feel her heart hammering against my chest – but she's trying to process what I’m offering.

"I don't want to drown," she says finally, voice unsteady but clear. "It sounds... weird, I know." She shudders. "But I’m afraid of water, panicked by thinking of suffocating in it. I’d rather choose dismemberment over that."

The request surprises me indeed – I slowly take my hands off Talia and let her say final words to her friends.

Talia turns to Emily first, who's crying openly now, her muscular frame shaking. Talia wraps her arms around her friend, holding her close. Emily clings to her like a child, burying her face in Talia's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Emily whispers between sobs. "I wish I could take your place." Talia kisses her on the forehead.

"It's okay," she says, voice cracking. "You need to be strong now. One of you will survive this."

Emily nods, her tears still falling, and I notice how she struggles to hold herself together for her friend.

Talia moves to Astrid next, who watches with an unreadable expression. Her face is tight, her arms crossed, but when Talia approaches, she doesn't move away.

"Thank you," Talia says, placing a hand on Astrid's arm. "For everything. You kept me from going crazy in here."

Astrid doesn't respond at first, just looks at Talia with those blue eyes, sharp as a blade. Then she exhales through her nose and pulls Talia into a rough embrace.

"I don't know how to say goodbye," Astrid mutters, words thick.

When Talia turns back to me, the tears are still rolling from her eyes, but she looks a little more determined now. I gently take her hand a lead her to face her fate.

The machine room is colder than the dungeon – metal and disinfectant thick in the air. Talia shivers in my arms as I pull her against me. She buries her face in my chest, breathing in shallow, shuddering breaths.

"It'll be okay," I murmur, pressing my cheek against the top of her head.

My hand strokes down her back, feeling the warm skin beneath my fingers. She clings to me, fingers curling into the material of my shirt, knuckles white.

"I'm afraid," she whispers.

It's barely audible, but I feel the vibration of it against my chest. Her body is taut with tension, like a drawn bowstring.

My lips meet hers in a kiss that starts gentle, almost hesitant. Her mouth is soft, still cold from the dungeon's chill. For a moment, she doesn't respond – too stunned, maybe too overwhelmed – but then her lips part slightly, letting me deepen it. Her fingers tighten against my shirt, pulling me closer.

It's not passionate. There's no heat, no hunger. Just something tender, something final. When I finally pull back, her gray eyes are wide, dark with unshed tears. She blinks them away quickly, biting her lower lip.

"Why?" she asks in a quiet voice.

I don't answer right away. I don't have a good answer.

“I… I don’t know.”

And I don't. This wasn't planned. Wasn't strategic. I just... wanted to. Wanted to see what it felt like to treat one of them like a person instead of a victim.

Turns out it feels better. So much better than the cruelty ever did. This connection, this tenderness – this feels like being human again.

“I don’t really enjoy doing this, you know. And you’re so… vulnerable.” I shrug. “I want to be kind to you before you die.”

Talia's breath hitches at my words, and for a second, something raw flashes across her face – vulnerability, gratitude, and something darker, deeper. Her fingers uncurl from my shirt, brushing along the fabric before dropping away. She doesn't look away, though. She watches me steadily, gray irises reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights above.

"Kind," she repeats softly.

There's no question in it – just a quiet observation, like she's turning the word over in her mind, examining it from different angles.
"But you're still going to kill me."

"Yes." There's no point lying. "But maybe... maybe I can make it different. Not degrading."

She studies my face for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nods.

"Okay," she whispers. "Be kind to me. I'll let you."

That permission breaks something in me. Or maybe fixes something. I'm not sure which.

I look into her eyes and lower my lips to hers. Our second kiss is slower this time, deliberate. Talia lets out a small sound against my mouth – half a whimper, half a sigh – and melts into me with a shiver. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling against my shoulders as if anchoring herself. The way she kisses me back isn't practiced or seductive; it's clumsy in its honesty, hesitant at first before deepening.

I move closer, pressing her against the cold metal wall of the machine room. My hands roam over her body, feeling the shape of her skinny curves. She shudders when my palm cups her breast, but doesn't pull away. If anything, she arches into the touch, breathing faster.

My fingers press into the soft flesh of Talia's breast, feeling her breath catch as I gently squeeze it. She tenses for just a second before relaxing into the touch, her head tilting back against the wall. When I reach between her legs, she exhales sharply, her hips twitching as my fingers brush over her smooth pussy.

"You want this?" I murmur against her ear, fingers curling slightly, pressing harder.

Her eyelids flutter, but she nods, quick and certain.

"Yes," she breathes, already arching into my touch.

I can feel how wet she is already, her body responding despite – or maybe because of – the situation.

She whimpers as I slide my fingers into her folds, feeling the slick heat there. I hear her gasp as I thrust two fingers inside her, her back arching off the wall slightly. Her inner walls clench around me, wet and tight.

"Oh God," she breathes, fingers digging into my shoulders. "Fuck."

I watch her face – eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted, lips damp from our earlier kisses. Her breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling rapidly as I pump my fingers inside her. Her hips rock subtly against my hand, seeking more friction.

My fingers thrust into Talia's pussy with ruthless precision, curling just right to hit that sweet spot inside her. She lets out a sharp cry, her nails digging into my shoulders as her hips jerk forward, taking me deeper. The wall at her back offers no give, trapping her against me as I finger her harder. Her breath comes in short gasps now, her face flushing pink as she grinds down onto my hand.

"John – fuck – please-” she gasps, her voice breaking as I add a third finger, stretching her open.

Her inner walls clench around me, wet and hot, and I can feel her getting close already. Her body shakes, tense with pleasure and pain.

She's getting close. Her pussy clamps down around my fingers, fluttering as I hook them inside her, pressing against that sensitive spot. Her back arches off the wall, head thrown back as she gasps my name again, higher this time, more desperate. I can feel her thighs quivering, muscles taut as she tries to grind against my hand for more friction.

"Come for me," I murmur against her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

She shudders violently, her fingers scrabbling against my shoulders as her orgasm hits. Her pussy spasms around my fingers, slick heat gushing over my hand as she cries out, the sound raw and broken.

I hold her tight against the wall as she shudders through the aftershocks, her body limp but still twitching. Her pussy keeps clenching around my fingers, slowly easing as her breathing gradually steadies. She blinks up at me, her face still flushed. Her gray eyes look darker now, pupils blown wide with residual pleasure.

"That was-" she starts, but then stops, swallowing hard. She licks her lips, gaze dropping briefly before returning to mine. "That was... good."

I remove my fingers slowly, bringing them to my mouth and sucking her juices clean while watching her reaction. She bites her lip, watching me with something between fascination and embarrassment.

"I liked it too,” I reply, looking into her eyes. “You're the best, Talia. But unfortunately all good things come to an end."

Talia's lips part slightly as she watches me clean her arousal from my fingers, her gray eyes dark with lingering pleasure and apprehension. She swallows hard, her breath still uneven from the orgasm I just gave her. At my words, she exhales shakily, nodding once like she knew this moment was coming but still wasn't ready for it.

"Thank you," she exhales, her fingers twitching against my chest.

Her body is still warm from what just happened, skin flushed. I can smell her on your hand – earthy and sweet. I press my palm against the side of her face, tilting her chin up so she meets my gaze.

"I meant what I said. You're the best."

My lips meet Talia's with a gentleness that contradicts the violence I’m about to inflict. She parts for me immediately, the taste of her still on my tongue. The kiss is deep, slow – almost tender in its intensity. Her arms wrap around my neck as she kisses me back, putting all the fear and desperation and reluctant desire she feels into it.

When I finally break the kiss, she gasps, breath coming in short bursts. Her gray eyes look huge in the dim light of the machine room, tears clinging to her lower lashes. She sees the machine behind me – metal blades glinting, the seat waiting with cold, impersonal efficiency. The Dismembering Station.