Chance felt his body tense. That cold voice cut through his head. His blood ran cold and his entire body slouched deeper into the bed. No…no…no! Chance thought, Come on, please just let me get some sleep for fuck’s sake?

“That hurts, Chance. I have feelings too, you know?” the Voice said. “In any case, regardless of how you treat me, I still want you to get through this process as painlessly as possible. So it may be in your best interest that all communication between us stay in that little head of yours. I’d assume that would be a given, but you have proved your idiocy since the beginning, so I figured I would come right out and say it.

Fuck you, Chance thought.

“Thank you for proving my point, simpleton. God, are you ever going to grow up?” the Voice asked.

Every time the Voice chastised him, it felt eerily similar to one of his father’s many speeches designed to belittle and humiliate him. Get to your point so I can get some sleep, Chance thought, angry at the Voice for his snideness and himself for his cowardice.

“Do I have to spell out why we are talking, Chance?” the Voice said, giving a loud sigh. “I’m here to make sure you take that knife out of the floor, walk over to the other bed, look down at your target, slit his throat, and watch him bleed out like a pig. The more you guys talk and get to know each other, the harder it will be. So be a man, grab the knife and get it over with, damn it.”

He imagined himself standing over Lance’s body with a knife in hand, blood gushing from his throat as his body convulsed uncontrollably and the look in his eyes as the life slowly faded from them. He shook his head trying to erase the horror. He could feel the hairs on his neck standing as he lay in bed terror-struck. You said it didn’t have to be done tonight, Chance thought.

“That does not mean tonight is off-limits, now does it? I am trying to help you, Chance. Kill the stranger!”

No, Chance thought. Please. Give me another out. I’m not a murderer.

“Dahmer wasn’t a cannibal until he ate his first victim. Do it!” the Voice ordered.

That’s completely different. He chose to do those horrific things. I am being forced.

“I do not want to be here talking to a troglodyte, yet here I am,” the Voice responded.

There has to be another way.

“There isn’t.”

This isn’t fair. I don’t deserve this.

“Fair? Deserve?” the Voice said laughing, “Whoever said this experiment would be fair? And, let’s be honest, Chance, it may not be fair, but you do deserve this.”

Bullshit.

“You’re lazy, incompetent, selfish, cowardly, and arrogant. You ignore your child; verbally abuse, ignore, and cheat on your wife; and you look down on others, all while self-inflating your importance on the back of your daddy’s coattails. You lie, cheat, and abuse to no end except to fill the emptiness that is your pathetic life. Do not now aspire to be something you are not, Chance. You may lie to the rest of the world. You may hide your insecurities and spit your half-truths to everyone else, but not to me. No, Chance. I get to see the real you. And that terrifies you.”

Okay, seriously, how the fuck do you know so much about me? You seem to know everything thing that goes on in my personal life as well as my work life. Do you work for me? Are you talking to people who are close to me? How the fuck do you know so much?

“I told you, it is my job to know.”

I will not do a fucking thing you ask until I get some damn answers, asshole!

“Fine, Chance. Have it your way. I do not work for you. I would not work for someone who is stupid enough to spend week after week drinking in a bar and spilling their guts to complete strangers. I chose the biggest shithole of a bar I could find in order to find the person dumb enough to be qualified for this position. Congratulations, you won!”

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Could you use your big boy thoughts, please?” the Voice mocked.

Please. Leave me alone. I do not have it in me to do this.

“Chance, Chance, Chance,” the Voice said. “You are a coward. That is exactly why you will be able to do it. In the end, you are going to want to save your own skin. That is what cowards do. You will be smart, and wait for him to be in a deep slumber. Similar to how he is now. Then you will rid him of this world and yourself of this room and my voice. Save your own ass, Chance. It is what you’re best at, after all.

Stop acting like this is a simple science experiment. It isn’t. You're fucking with people's’ lives here, and for what? Chance thought. What valid reason could you possibly have? Government research? Private sector research? Save it. It really doesn’t matter. What matters is this man. Not some object. He could have a family waiting for him. Regardless of how shitty a person I am, robbing a family of their husband or father does not sit well with me.

“He told you he does not have a wife or child, didn't he?” the Voice asked.

So? He could be lying to protect them. He probably does not trust me, and I don’t blame him, Chance thought, pressing down hard on his eyes. I don’t trust him either. Who is to say he doesn’t have you or some other crazy fucker in his ear telling him to kill me. The thought terrified him. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. He hadn’t considered the possibility that this could be a race. You sick fucks, is this some kind of—

“Relax,” the Voice said followed by an attempt to make soothing sounds. “The poor bastard sharing your room is truly unaware as to why he is there. No race, no competition. Just a test of your ability to follow instructions. Do so and be rewarded. Fail to do so…. You don’t want to fail to do so. I only have so much patience, Chance; do not test it.

Thanks, I feel so much better, Chance thought. Are you ever going to tell me the actual purpose of this experiment?

“It is not within my powers to release that information,” the Voice responded.

“So, you’re not the boss? Should have guessed it. Government or private? That is the least you could tell me.”

“True, that is the least I could tell you. And yet, I won’t.”

Why?

“Why?” the Voice mocked in a high-pitched whine. “Do you realize how often you sound like a child?”

It is a legitimate question. I don’t think wanting to know why some strange creepy guy with a cold voice kidnaps me, belittles me, and orders me to kill someone I do not know just to satisfy his twisted fetish is juvenile.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“Just because you desire something does not mean you shall receive it. I would like to know the true origins of existence, and yet I am left only to my thoughts and ideas of how it happened. Also, I am not creepy nor is my voice unpleasant, just ask my mother, and I get no sexual gratification out of this assignment. Stop trying to understand because it is beyond your intellectual capabilities.”

Fuck you!

“Thank you for proving my point yet again. Just complete your mission like a good little soldier, and then you can return to your pathetic life.”

No.

“This circular conversational style of yours is really starting to annoy me.”

Then fuck off!

“Why would I do that when I am clearly getting to you?

   I’m sure you think so.

   “You can’t hide your emotions from me, Chance. Your heartbeat is elevated, and you are perspiring excessively. I am definitely getting to you.”

   Chance placed his hand upon his heart. He felt the rapid beating in his chest so intensely he thought it might explode. He ran his fingers through his hair, which was soaked as was the back of his pillow. He attempted to slow his thoughts down. He breathed slowly and deeply in order to calm himself. This isn’t fair. My mind…it is supposed to be the one place that is mine and mine alone.

   “I see we have circled back to fairness,” the Voice groaned. “You are becoming predictable. Stop complaining about what is fair and what isn’t. You cannot control that. What you can control, however, is how long you spend in here. Pick up the knife, Chance. Summon all of your intestinal fortitude and end this. He is locked in limbo here as well. The only way either of you gets any kind of respite is if you complete your objective. You can make it nearly painless. One quick slit. Just make sure to penetrate deep enough and slice far enough. Best not tempt fate into keeping him alive because of a weak strike. Do it, Chance. Earn your freedom. It is right in front of you. Seize it, Chance. Seize it!

   NO! Chance screamed internally, his hands clawing at his temples. You may invade my mind, but you do not fucking own it.

   “Not yet.”

   Never.

   “Fine, for the sake of argument, let's assume you are right. Do you plan on living here forever? How long do you think I will keep feeding you? You must have an exit strategy, correct?”

   There has to be another way, and I am going to wait until it presents itself. You clearly want something from me, and I do not think it is murder. So, what is it?

   “You are correct in that it is not about murder. It is about you listening and following my instructions. So far, you are doing very poorly.

   Then maybe you should find a better student.

   “Why would I do that when I have you here with me already?

   You do realize that eventually my father, and all of his money, will figure out I am not on a bender. That he will inevitably come to the conclusion that my disappearance is the result of foul play. You are on borrowed time and you know it. I suggest you give me an alternative. Let me leave, and maybe I will forget all of this.

   “Silen—”

   No! Fuck you and your commands. The tables have turned, asshole. You thought I was incapable of playing chess. Merely a checker player pretending. Instead, you found a quality opponent. Let that eat at you, prick.

   “That’s cute,” the Voice mocked. “You think you’ve won. Only a fool thinks the game is won before the conclusion. Your arrogance will be your downfall. You will kill him. You will obey me. You may resist at first, but eventually, you will bend to my will. Your mind will crumble under the weight of the torture I will put you through should you continue to resist me. You are not my equal. You will learn to obey your master.

   You are a hypocrite. You insult me for inflating my self-importance yet anoint yourself my master. I may not be perfect, but I accept that. You, on the other hand, fancy yourself far superior in intelligence than myself and I’m assuming everyone else as well. How does the saying go? “Don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house.” Be careful walking home. I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.

   Chance waited for a witty retort or snide comment about his mental faculties, but he only heard a click followed by silence. Had he won this battle? He lay upon his bed with his hands behind his head smiling. One to one, asshole. Your move.

---

   The adrenaline from his mental spar with the Voice coupled with an uncomfortable bed kept Chance up once again. He tossed and turned for an hour, replaying the argument over and over in his head. How many springs does this fucking bed have? He got up to relieve himself. As he washed his hands, Lance sat up.

   “Can’t sleep either, eh?” he asked.

   “Nope, par for the course here, though,” Chance responded. He thought he heard rain outside.

   “Said you’re a VP of some company, right?”

   “Yeah. My dad started it when he was younger, and over time it exploded.”

   “Guessing that will be yours one day. Must be nice,” Lance stated, a hint of contempt in his voice.

   “Yeah. Sooner the better,” Chance said as he walked back over to his bed, cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms.

   “Why is that?” Lance asked as he too began to stretch slightly.

   “Would you wanna work for your old man?”

   “Fair point. Seems like a lot of responsibility to take on at a relatively young age, though.”

   “He started it when he was younger than I am now. I can handle it.”

   “Stakes are different now.”

   “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

   “I’m just saying. Your dad started a company from the ground up. He grew as the company did. You are being handed what sounds like a huge operation.”

   “You talk to me as if you know me. You do not know shit about me. I will do great things when that company is mine, regardless of what you or anyone else thinks,” Chance retorted.

   “You’re right, I am sorry. Not my place.”

   Chance glared at the man. Sensing his sincerity, he relaxed. “Enough about me. What about you? You self-employed?” Chance asked.

   “Me?” the man laughed. “No, I work for a company who does a bunch of houses in subdivisions. Just a worker. Pay is decent though.”

   “You enjoy it?”

   “Do you enjoy your job?”

   “No, not much of a choice, though.”

   “Not for me either. It is the best-paying job I can get. Nothing else is hanging on a pole waiting for me to grab it.”

   “That a shot at me?”

   “A little. I’m sorry man, it just bugs me. Some people have it all laid out for them before they are even born. They are fortunate enough to hit the DNA lottery. The majority, however, have to scratch and claw just to gather the scraps the elites are kind enough to throw in their trash.”

   “Fuck you!” Chance shouted. “Yes, I have a nice set up, there is no denying that. Do you think I should apologize for that? I will not be sorry for being born into a wealthy family. My dad is more of a prick than you could ever know. I have had to put up with his bullshit my whole life, so yes when he kicks the fucking bucket, I will take over his company. People can bitch all they want about it, because either way, I will be laughing my ass off to the bank.”

   “Sorry, man. Damn, calm down. I didn’t mean to hit such a nerve. You’re right, of course. I have no clue what is going on in your situation. I mean that, sincerely.”

   Chance studied the man. One again, he looked sincere enough. Still, Lance’s repeated insults annoyed him.

   “Maybe it is best we change the subject,” Lance said.

   “Like what?” Chance asked.

   “How’s married life?”

   “Shitty. If she isn’t bitching, she’s moaning.”

   “Damn, man. Why stay with her then?”

   “Cheaper than a divorce. Plus, we dated in high school, and I know she married me for me. Back then, we both truly loved each other.” Chance paused. He thought of all the times he told Beth he loved her when they were younger, but the words always felt hollow. He found it impossible to truly know how it felt, even towards his daughter. “I’m not really sure when I grew tired of her,” he continued, once again ignoring thoughts of his family, “Gradually, I guess. I think we both stick it out because it is convenient. The kid complicates things as well. What about you? You said you weren’t married. Got a girlfriend or something?” Chance asked eagerly, trying to move away from his family.

   “Nah,” Lance said hesitantly as he shifted anxiously.

   Something in his eyes told Chance he was hiding something. He decided, however, not to push any further. “Do you have any idea why they picked the two of us, out of millions, to share this room for God knows why?” Chance asked.

   “I’ve been racking my brain on that too. Some kind of social experiment or something? I just don’t get how they expect any results without giving us any kind of instruction, you know?”

   “Yeah, it makes no sense,” Chance lied.

   Lance sighed and put his head in his hands. Chance looked at the man somberly. He wanted to tell him the truth about the Voice, the knife, the experiment. Yet, he could not bring himself to do it. Not only did the Voice forbid it, what if this man decided to kill Chance hoping the act would earn him his freedom instead? No, for now, he had to pretend to be just as oblivious as Lance. Lost in the darkness, hoping someone else would shine a light, illuminating a path to salvation. That’s too easy. This won’t end easily, Chance thought.

   The conversation, thankfully, took on a brighter tone over the next hour. Chance learned a good deal about the manual labor involved in building houses, and in return, he educated the man on the ins and outs of how boring office work could be. Lance spoke of his parents fondly. His father was a postman and his mother a hair stylist. They were now retired, living less than an hour away from the city. Chance deflected talking about his parents. They continued on for what felt like hours. Eventually, the men decided they should try to get some sleep.

   Chance lay back, hands under his head. He closed his eyes, aches flaring throughout his weary body, and prayed for sleep. He needed it. He knew the next few days would be rough. He was mentally exhausted already, and he would have to prepare for more “mental” battles. It was going to be taxing. He was going to win though. He had too. As he slowly drifted, he began to think of his mother for some reason. A brief smile flickered across his face as he finally fell asleep.