I’m sitting in a room with six other participants watching Langston fall to the floor.
He passed out.
I look over at Beckett out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his reaction. But he’s just as good at hiding his emotions as I am.
Beckett doesn’t so much as speak.
I glance back at the large screen in front of us. The men whip him one more time after he collapses, and I want to barrel through the wall and rip their throats out.
Finally, they stop after they realize he’s passed out.
The women step back.
I don’t know what happened.
Watching him broke me more than whatever I will face next ever could.
I would’ve called out my safe word if it had a chance at stopping his madness. I don’t know how they know our greatest fears and weaknesses, but they always find them here and exploit them. They did the last time I was here too.
Get up.
Get the fuck up, killer!
I watch, but Langston doesn’t get up. Does that mean he’s disqualified?
“Mr. Pearce will be advanced to the next round,” the voice says. A voice that always sends chills down my spine.
How will Langston advance?
I stare at Langston more closely, and that’s when I see the drop of cum on the floor.
Technically, he came.
A part of me wishes he had lost now. The rest of me wants him to win so he can kick everyone involved in this organization’s ass.
But I need the money. I need to win.
Langston is the only person standing between me and victory. Right now, all I can do is beg him to wake up. To show me he’s still alive—that this didn’t ruin him forever like it did me.
Finally, a couple of men walk over to him. Langston’s back is covered in red welts, and there are a few drops of blood, but it doesn’t look like they did any permanent damage to his back.
They hook their arms under his and lift him up.
I lean forward in my chair as I stare at a man I thought could never be broken.
Please, don’t be broken. Please, please, please.
Langston is slumped in their arms, only being held up because of the men’s strength, not his own. He’s completely naked. He looks like he just walked through hell, and his limp body is all that is left of him.
I want them to cover him up, to show him some dignity. I know they won’t, though.
Slowly, Langston starts to awaken. His head rolls side to side. At first, he doesn’t have the strength to even lift his head. But he won’t let anyone see him as weak.
It takes everything in him, but he lifts his head up, and then it’s like he’s looking right at me into a nearby camera. He’s telling me he’s fine. That he isn’t broken. That he survived. And I was the one who helped him survive.
Me.
I’m whom he thought about to get through it.