The Sect (25 page)

“A multiple of three. Good guess, princess.” Sauntering to the table, he grabbed a long strand of rope and a knife. Sitting across from me, he began to uncurl the rope. “Three men and three women. Twenty-one animals in the theater and eighteen seminar attendees. The list could go on… All multiples of three. Do you wonder why that is?” He cut three sections off, almost a foot and a half long.
 

“The trinity,” I answered.

“Very good.” He unraveled the rope in three sections and handed all nine of them to me. “Make three knots on each one”—he pointed to the end, the middle, and the beginning—“and make them tight.”

With my hands trembling, I began to do as instructed.

“You know Reven’s story? He boasts about it at his seminars; it’s all a fucking lie.” He snorted. “The crazy seminars full of rich people who wonder why they aren’t happy with all the money they have. Sometimes I think the more money people earn the crazier they become. Maybe it’s just an excuse for them to be who they really are, while the rest of us mask it because we have to. We don’t have millions or billions of dollars to cover our problems or pay other people to shut up about them.
 

“They come here because Reven promises them the things they want more of, or are missing. They stay for six weeks at a time—sometimes longer in the penthouse suites above the theater—listen to a madman speak, believe him, and then proceed to whine to him about how mommy and daddy didn’t love them enough. He gives them the same prescription unless they pay the price. They can either use the men or women Reven keeps hidden away in the basement—he calls them the throwaways, and I’ll get to why in a minute—or they can pay top dollar, matching the so-called elites’ bids who reside in the houses, and use one of you. You know why you, Jayme, Nadine, and those other assholes whose names I don’t bother to remember get to stay in his home? Because your parents’ income brackets make you important.”

I glanced at him because I recalled the story Jayme told me. “Jayme wasn’t—”

“She lied to you,” he snapped. “Her parents locked her away in a mental health facility because she was obsessed with a married man. She ran away and got involved in some things she shouldn’t have. Eventually, she wound up here. Reven has a team on the outside that feeds all of your privileged parents’ information about you. All of your parents are so desperate; little by little, they take the money from your ‘reward if found,’ and give it to Reven. Sometimes it’s more than what’s offered in the reward. Sometimes it’s less. Reven doesn’t really need the money to keep this place running; it’s anyone’s guess as to why he does it. But he’s smart. He’s untraceable.
 

“But back to the throwaways. There are rules with you and the guys in The House of Rebirth, but not with the throwaways. Did you smell it, Keaton? You know what it is? Crazy men who pay a little money to come here and work out their aggression on whomever they want. They hide the fact that they are psychotic killers when they masquerade as businesspeople. The very moment they are told they can do what they want and it will help them, they lose their fucking minds. They rape them, torture them, and kill them. Sometimes, it’s not always in that order.”

My hand trembled more, having problems finishing the knots.

“And the girls like you? You’re not immune. For one billion dollars anyone who wants to kill can—humanely, of course. When you die, your remains are sent to your parents for twice the ransom money. Reven isn’t a religious zealot. This entire place is a sham created by a rich kid whose parents fucked him up. Whose bible-thumping parents thought his deranged fucking older brother was the second coming of Jesus.

“Do you know why he calls himself Reven? He was attacked one day and declared clinically dead. He came back to life seconds later and decided to call himself a revenant. This place is just one big extravagant way to flex his god-complex and indulge in his deranged fantasies by manipulating the people who were like the ones who tormented him. The seminars, the speeches, The Doctrine? It’s bullshit to him. He’s fucking with almost everyone here. He draws the people here by using the things that they all want. Fame. Money. Sex. Violence. A purpose. Me, Nadine, and you are the only ones who see the truth.”

“Knowing all of that,” I sobbed, “why did
you
come here?”

He looked down at my completed ropes and gathered them all, knotting them into one and began binding a rope from the knot upward, creating a handle. “The question isn’t why I came here. The question is why I stayed. The answer? To save someone.” He asked quietly, “Do you know why I told you all of that?”

“To make me scared,” I rasped.

His eyes darted up to mine. “Some of us are here because we want to be. Some of us don’t think we can leave because we’re so used to the life here; we don’t know how to behave in the real world.”

I reached up, touching the scar on his brow. “Who did this to you? Who was the monster who left you with the scars on your body?”

He immediately stood, turning his back on me. His shoulders flexed and rolled as he continued to make the torture device. “Do you think I’m a coward for staying?”

“Not at all, Noah. Reven has a lot of protection here. It wouldn’t be smart to fight against him without help.”

He turned to me, his expression so stark I couldn’t see past it to tell what he was feeling. “What do you think you’re doing when you run and disobey him, Keaton?” Sighing, he drew his palm down his face. “You’re wrong. Your answer shows how fucking little you know me…and you never will.”

“Because I don’t believe you’re a coward?” I stood watching him as he leaned against the opposite wall. “You just needed help.”

“And what can you do?” He quirked up a brow in amusement. “A little girl with a huge bank account stuck in a place she doesn’t even know the location of can’t do anything to help anyone. Princess? I’m here because I want to be.” He lifted his arms, halting my reply. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Remove your clothes.”

“You don’t have to do this—”

“I really, really do. The funny part? I want to. I can’t wait to hurt you. It still gets me off, Keaton—more than I’ve ever gotten off on hurting anyone else. When you scream and I see the red welts on your skin…” Pausing and leaving his sentence incomplete, he narrowed his eyes at me and took one large step forward. “Take off your clothes or I will rip them off. If you think I’m going to be gentle with you, you’re wrong. When I’m done, you will be bedridden for a week. This is your doing. I warned. I threatened. But, you won’t stop making stupid decisions because you still can’t see the bigger picture.”

With my body shaking, I turned toward the wall and slowly removed my clothes.

T
HE
DAYS
were beginning to bleed together. For seven sunsets, I was bedridden. Marcia served as the cook and the nurse. She brought me meals and tended to my wounds. I tried to make sense of why Noah was so brutal with me. A lesson? Jealousy? Or was it really just simple punishment? The man was hard to crack.
 

After fourteen—or sixteen—sunsets, night after night I stood in the theater lobby, behaving like a piece or ripened fruit, waiting to be picked and never was. The scenes around me didn’t draw me as they had before.
 

My original views on sex made a sharp and quick return. The warnings about what this place really was, and the nature of the man who ran it, thrust the idea of escaping firmly into my mind. I’d given up hope, but now I couldn’t. The artful dance to ensure I lived couldn’t be won. Noah claimed Nadine was the smart one, but if all it took was someone to pay to kill her, what was the point of her obedience? So she could live without being beaten? She was still treated poorly as an object—a tool for a sinister agenda. Her compliance and strong hold on her mind would mean nothing if a man with enough cash to hold her life in his hands wanted to kill her.

It was the day of the twentieth sunset—or maybe thirtieth. My memory was slipping and I didn’t have the forethought to record the days somehow. All I knew was the same thing happened every day; breakfast, standing around in the theater, lunch and dinner, return to my room to watch television, and sleep. Day after day, it was the same. I’d become invisible to the others in the house because no one would speak to me, no one would look at me or choose me at the theater. In those days, I had seen Reven maybe a handful of times, but not once did I see Noah. The last day, I had a short and pointed interaction with Marcia, only because I remembered something from the life I was beginning to forget.

“Marcia?” I asked after she set my tray down and continued to head toward the closed and locked door. My call to her was ignored. I wracked my brain trying to remember the last dinner I had in freedom; the dinner I experienced where I first laid eyes on Noah. As the scene replayed in my mind, I recalled the name of Harley’s friend. “Did you know Jackie?”

She abruptly stopped but never turned around.

“It was you, wasn’t it? She spoke about you all the time. Harley uses you as an example to keep going. You are an inspiration to them.” I timidly stepped forward, unsure of what I was looking for in her reaction to me. “Is that what he does? Takes the homeless—the one’s who don’t have family looking for them—in order to employ them here? Are you happy here? Is Reven good to you?”

She sighed so heavily her back heaved. “There is a good man here, but it isn’t Reven.” Without another word, she left me standing there, shocked and confused.

It was just another countless day of monotony at the theater and for some reason, the only thing I became obsessed with was finding a cell phone. I realized that in all my time here, I hadn’t stumbled upon a landline, much less a cell phone. I would’ve thought the men here were much like my father and wouldn’t go without their phones or tablets for very long. I tried to keep my search discreet, and even in doing that, Jayme couldn’t keep her eyes off me as she conversed with one of the seminar’s attendees.
 

It didn’t matter; my search was fruitless.

With her hands on her hips, she dramatically swayed as she walked up to me. “You won’t find it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied.

“Oh, I do. A phone. No one is allowed to have one here. I won’t tell anyone you were looking for a way to escape again. I’ll keep your secrets.” She sloped forward and whispered, “I’ll keep
all
of your secrets.”

Puzzled, I crossed my arms and regarded her with impatience. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone in the house knows. I know you probably think I hate you because I tripped you a while back, but I don’t. Reven told me to do it and punished me for doing it for some reason. I know you think I’m upset that helping you and Noah put me out of favor with Reven. Now Nadine is his new favorite. But, no. I’m fine.” She stood next to me whispering her words. “I’ll get back in his favor; I just have to work hard.”