Chapter 5: Voice of pain—nightmare with a mouth of venom
Steady steps lead her to the young man. He wasn't the evil minion one would expect. His only fault was being loyal to the wrong people. Maybe he could be of use to her plan, a plan she was drafting as she approached; he had potential. He could be used to turn against Blackstone to stop them from using him and his blind loyalty anymore. Maybe she could help him to see the truth and destroy his unwavering loyalty to the wrong people before they could destroy both the kids and him. Determined or just foolishly hopeful, she decided it was better than doing nothing.
What she was doing was dancing on the thin line between guidance and manipulation, but although manipulation is a powerful tool, it is also a double-edged sword. One wrong word and the whole game crumbles. Maybe if she could make him see the truth, then maybe, just maybe, he could be the downfall of this cruel corporation. Hope makes one do insane things, a truth she came to experience right then and there.
"Are you satisfied?" The words came out so steadily it surprised even her. She managed to catch his attention. All she needed was to create a seed of doubt. Her plan was to calmly lift the blindfold covering his eyes and make him see the reality, a plan she made on the way there.
"Do you even realize what you're part of? Are happy sacrificing young innocent lives for what…" Her words cut the tension in the room like a brand-new blade. Her words lingered in the air, deeply confusing the boy. This is it now; there's no turning back. // First comes confusion, then realization. This can work. This will work. It has to. // she told herself, seeing his reaction.
"For another dime in your pocket." she chuckled, but it came out hollow and humorless, her words coming out in that kind of mockery that made people second-guess every single decision they had made their whole lives. Miraculously, somehow it was working. He was weaker than he seemed, or he already had his doubts about all this. Either way, this was working in her favor. Ashley took advantage of his silence, having no idea if she hit where it hurts most. She doubled down with it; if it was working, maybe there was still hope of seeing all this burn down to ashes, maybe there was still hope for better. Hope of a place where they don't have to live under Blackstone's tyranny.
"Is it worth having all this on your conscience just for money? Do you have any idea of just how many lives you ruined?" Each and every one of her words was chosen carefully, anger starting to spill into them, adding the frustration and the hurt she held back over the years. Emotions she had no idea were so powerful, but that kept piling up as the days turned into months and the pain kept growing. She had suppressed her emotions for far too long and was now taking them out on this poor boy.
She thought she was clever, paying a small price to put an end to all this, to destroy Blackstone Industries from the inside, to make their own people betray that twisted business. However, in reality, she was just an idiot who let her emotions push her to the point of throwing her life away in a futile attempt to fight something that is just too much for her to handle.
"My conscience is clear," he attempted to defend himself as if saying it out loud would make it a reality. Little did he know his guilt was showing, mixing with his own doubt and the confusion he was feeling. The air was thick with tension and the venom of what was both said and left to be said. Without realizing it, he was taking a step back, putting some distance between him and this little nightmare.
Maintaining her calm, she slowly tried to close the distance with slow, deliberate steps. Her lack of anger instilled fear in him; seeing this little human stay so calm was scarier for him than if she had been raging mad. Her actions confused him, and with confusion came overthinking, which led to an unsettling feeling that quickly became fear. The delivery was calm, so calm it stepped into emotionless, but the words carried that venom that comes only from pure, raw, and unfiltered hate, frustration, and boiling anger.
"Is it?" She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. Her words were so simple but at the same time frightening, carrying deep hidden meanings. The weight of what remained unsaid weighed heavily on him, suffocating him in his own fear and doubt. His breath became more and more uneven.
"Silence!" His unease overshadowing his words. "You don't have the right to talk to me like that, or else—" He was on the defensive now, desperation slowing in his words—rivers of confusion and guilt colliding. What she was doing was working, a little too well.
She cut him off. "Or what?" Her words carried a provocative tone with a hint of mockery. "Are you going to 'dispose' of me too? As if that would do any help, the truth is that no matter what you do, the end would always be the same. How can you sleep at night knowing the blood of so many lives is on your hands? How can you live with yourself knowing the hundreds of lives you ruined? The guilt is pressing down on you, but you try to justify your actions so you could still look at yourself in the mirror, but instead of shrinking, it just grows more and more with each and every day." Her words carried fire, but they were delivered with the same sereneness of a frozen lake in the middle of winter, and that's what scared him. The words were calm but held poison within.
She wasn't the flashiest nor the loudest, but there's something about her he could only feel, not see. There was something about her that sent a shiver down his spine. Something he couldn't quite place. A spark in her eyes that terrified him. Maybe it was the fact that she was right and she seemed to know it. Her words were so simple you wouldn't give them any importance, but for some reason they frightened him. As she approached, each step now hollow and indifferent, he unconsciously started backing away, trying to increase the distance that was closing slowly.
His back hit the wall. Desperation and something else, perhaps terror, started filling his eyes. That girl is the devil's spawn; no, she was a nightmare, the same haunting feeling, the same lingering words, and the same psychological torment an infernal nightmare carries. She continued to speak, planting doubt and fear in the boy's mind. Her gaze was steady, but her words were poisonous. Every syllable felt like a thousand blades.
She lost control of her emotions. The words just kept flowing. If she continued this way, she would break him beyond repair. Physical wounds heal, but psychological ones leave scars. If the wound was too deep, it won't be the realization she wanted, but something else, something that might haunt him till the end of his days.
If that happened, he would be utterly useless to both her and Blackstone. His breath quickened. He couldn't take it anymore. His knees gave out, collapsing on the cold floor with a loud thud that thundered in the quiet cell. Silent tears of guilt, shame, and fear started spilling uncontrollably.
For someone working in the underworld, he was weak. Weaker than she had anticipated, but at the same time she may have overreacted. She lost control and went a little too hard on the poor guy. Is she the one to blame? Even though he didn't actively take part in all this, he was still an accomplice. All the emotions she bottled up burst out all at once, and he happened to be the unfortunate one on whom she took it all out.
When one speaks with their soul, not their mind, the words that come out, tainted by emotion, hit different. Hitting at your conscience and slowly eating you alive. Causing more damage than any other weapon known throughout history.