Prologue:

Begin the Game

1.

A smile drifted across the pale face. “You’re awake. I was afraid that he had killed you when he gave you that nasty bump. I’m sorry if he hurt you badly. I try to stop him, but…” That smile faltered, and then the man went silent.

The woman’s eyes bulged. She struggled against her restraints. Her arms fought the tight cord that bound her to the cold metal seat.

The man spoke in that emotionless, child-like voice, “Ah yes. You must be excited. You will finally get to see if a god exists. I’m sorry if it hurts you, but I am not in control when he comes out to play.” There was a soft giggle. “He wants to play so often now.”

He bent down and spun the metal chair to face the wall.

Behind her, she heard another voice. This one was deep and cold. “She’s alive?”

“Yes, the poor little thing is all in one piece. A bit excited, but that is to be expected. She’s ready for The Game. She’s ready to become beautiful art.”

The deep voice let out a throaty, humorless chuckle. “You’re becoming childish again. You cannot accept the reality of what I—no, we—do, can you?”

The woman strained against her bonds again. Everything around her was white. Except for the man. He was so dark, but now all she could she was white. She thought she was blind.

That throaty chuckle continued. A small razorblade glided against the woman’s neck. “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Remember, my flower, if a person receives pain, an aspect of him will always strive to kill if he is too cowardly to embrace the fact that he has evil.”

A swipe of blood sprayed out, and then there was no more.