text: I jolt awake. Something feels wrong. I open my eyes but there is just darkness. I can hear voices, muffled, but I can hear the gentle murmur of one sound after another. I start to become aware of myself. I can feel there is something over my head and my hands are tied together. I try to tune in to any surrounding sounds that may indicate where I am. I can hear an engine, feel it vibrating underneath the soles of my shoes. I strain to see something, anything, but there is nothing but darkness surrounding me. There is a sudden stop and I am lunged forward. I smack my head off something and I feel myself being pulled off somewhere. I am hit with a breeze so cold I could freeze before being pushed down onto what I can only presume is a chair. I feel a tug on my head, my hair being pulled in the process and suddenly I can see again. My eyes adjust to the light. All around me are black figures, gathered in front of a fire. I focus on them and that’s when I see it. They’re all wearing masks. The majority of them are wearing what looks like the head of a goat. What have I gotten myself into? I try to get up to move but it appears that I am tied to a chair in front of this large gathering of people. “Excuse me...” I begin. “Would someone care to tell me what the hell is going on here?!” Nobody seems to acknowledge me. Everyone seems to be muttering the same line under their breaths. “She will be reclaimed in the cleansing of the soul.” This feels surreal. I must still be dreaming. “Hello?!” I scream, once more trying to grab somebody’s attention. Everyone stops at once and turns. One of the people wearing the masks comes closer to me and booms “Somebody tape this things mouth shut” I feel two people run up behind me and I scream. My screams are soon muffled by a large amount of duct tape protruding across the surface of my mouth. The same person who issued the command before dismisses everyone but four of the goat headed followers. As they start towards me, each one of them brandishes a weapon of their choice. One wearing an excessive amount of pink lipstick withdraws a dagger from her boot. Another with the eyes of their mask cut out takes two swords from behind their back. The third goat headed member takes a pistol from his back pocket and hands it to the leader. “You’re signature weapon, my Lord” he bows before whipping out a pair of nunchucks for himself. “So..” the leader of the group begins. “How are we going to murder this one then?” There is a creepy grin to be seen stretching out from underneath his mask. “This is my favourite part” smiles the third member. “The planning” The leader shoots him a look. “Shut up Pygmy, nobody asked you '' he spat before smacking the third member over the head with the pistol. “Idiot” The girl with the pink lipstick starts towards me with her dagger pointing straight ahead and I feel my whole body begin to tense. “So what’s your name, pretty lady?” Her voice is a sickly sweet. Every word she says sounds like honey oozing out of her throat. I do not reply. She jams the dagger against my throat. I wince. “I said, what’s your name?” Her tone is more aggressive this time and I’m too afraid of what she might do if I don’t reply. “Mac” She whips her head to the side. “How sweet, little baby Mac” I force a smile as the others circle me, making me their prey. I struggle to find words in fear of death. The leader walks over to me and cuts one of the ropes free. I feel my right hand go limp beside me. He picks it up gently in his hand and plants a kiss on the top of my hand. I try to disguise the disgust that is so clearly on my face but fail. He turns my wrist over in his hand and freezes. “Oh no” he starts to shake his head and throws his pistol to the ground. “No, no, no, no” he starts to get louder and the other members of the group glance at each other and begin to back away from me. “What is wrong, my Lord '' the pink lipstick girl, whose name I have now learned is Daisy, asks, “We have majorly messed up” screams the leader. “Why?!” Pygmy asks, clearly in distress. The leader turns to them and points his index finger at me. “Look at her wrist and see for yourself.” One by one they each walk over to me cautiously and pick up my wrist, all of them freezing and joining their leader in a frenzy of panic. After a few moments the leader comes over to me and rips the duct tape from my lips. It feels like he’s taking a layer of my skin with it. He grabs my wrist and thrusts it in my face. “What is the meaning of this?!” Just a few inches from my face is my tattoo. I’ve had it ever since I was born. An upside down cross, completely black. No colour. “My tattoo...?” I begin, completely unaware of what is currently happening. “That ain’t no tattoo...” says Daisy. “That there, is the mark of the devil himself” I freeze. None of this can be true. Obviously these guys are messing with me and this is their cruel plan to kill me. The leader begins to freak out again. “She’s one of Satan’s own, anyone that touched her will now suffer in the most painful way imaginable. Sure enough, Daisy drops to the ground and starts screaming in agony, her dagger coming to life and stabbing her in multiple places over and over. Blood begins to seep into the ground below her and soon enough she is nothing but a motionless corpse. Next, the leader grabs the pistol from the ground. He attempts to make his death quick and painless and raises the gun to his head. His arm cracks and every bone in his body begins to splinter. He drops as the final crack sends him into eternal slumber. I feel the restraints loosen behind me and get up to run. The two men left from the group start running towards me in an attempt to fight for their lives. One swings their fist but misses and I swing back with my leg, knocking him out flat on the ground. The other picks up the chair and attempts to throw it at me, I grab it in my hands and knee them in the chest. They fall to the ground, gasping for air as I issue one last final blow to the head and he collapses, paralysed. I drop the chair and my whole body shakes. There is a distant glow of what looks to be more of their followers. Without a second thought, I turn around and sprint. Sprint and sprint, deep into the woods, I have absolutely no idea where I’m going but at least I’m getting further from them, whoever they are. My lungs begin to burn, I collapse against a tree and try to steady my breath. I sit forward on my knees and feel my wrist burning. I turn it over and sure enough, what was once a solid black cross is now a bright crimson. Something drips onto my wrist. One drop after another, rain pummels down onto me. Except it’s not normal and clear. It is dark and red, with a metallic tinge off of it. I sit, waiting for this dreaded rain to end when suddenly I hear someone exhale above me. I look up, shaking from head to toe, and standing there is none other than the Dark Lord himself. I push myself back up against the tree. “What is going on?!” I scream. A big, toothy grin emerges from the figures face. “Welcome home my little Machiavellian, I’ve been waiting for you.” I try to steady my breath but fail and feel my entire body go limp. I let myself go as I hit the ground. Cursed forever by the ink that holds me to this hell.