Darling If You Could Just Hush

This is cross-posted fanfic based off the visual novel horror game "The Price of Flesh," and provides context for my other piece titled "Mousetrap," which covers the aftermath of the events found here.

This follows the plotline found in Celia's route with added perspective from the character of Eden, an OC I created to fill the role of the main character in the game.

Title is from "Hush" by Ari Abdul

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CW for Non-con/Dub-con as Eden obviously has little in the ways of choice

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The last thing Eden remembered was getting in after a long shift, tired, ready to eat some leftover lasagne and collapse into bed. As soon as the door closed, something hard jabbed into her neck, the staccato snaps of a stun-gun painfully loud, losing control of her body. Something soft and smothering was shoved into her face. A sweet chemical scent--chloroform?--then nothing.

Being jostled, the rumble of an engine, muffled voices, darkness again; where the hell was she?

Jaunty music jolted her back to consciousness. She sputtered, rushing to stand only to find she couldn't get very far once she was upright. Her hands and ankles were shackled, connected by a long chain, and the ankle restraints were bolted to the floor underneath her.

Eden frowned. She actually seemed to be on a little platform, like a stage.

Lights flashed on overhead, putting her in a spotlight. She whipped towards them and saw not an audience of her peers like some juvenile nightmare but instead three screens mounted to the wall directly in front of her.

"What the fuck," she muttered.

A cheerful voice speaking English sounded from speakers in the room, making it sound like it came from everywhere at once.

"Good evening and welcome! Ladies and gentlemen, have I got a treat for you! She's fresh, healthy, and alert. I'm sure she'll be versatile enough to fulfil any of your...needs."

Eden's mind raced at the words, fully awake now. The voice was masculine but she couldn't pin down the accent, too subtle.

"Now I'm sure you all know the drill; I'll start asking questions, and you lovely folks can begin bidding at any time!"

Questions?

"Get on with it!" a sharp, boyish voice snapped from the screen to her left. His silhouette lit up red, barely giving the impression of slicked back hair, the clean slope of shoulders--wearing a suit perhaps.

"Shut up unless you're bidding!" a smooth, condescending voice, lighter, feminine. It came from the screen in front of her, a silhouette in blue, long hair, the edge of a leather jacket.

Red sneered back, "heh, you sound like a hag!"

Blue was swift and razor sharp. "You little shit! I bet you can't even afford anything here! Get back to--"

The Cheerful One cut in with a placating, "now, now. Shouldn't we save our passion for the main event?"

Silence. Eden tried to swallow the dryness on her tongue as she felt the attention shift back to her like a wounded deer in a wolf den.

"Shall we ask our item some questions and begin the bidding?"

"Yes, please," a fourth voice, the third bidder from the screen to her right. Unmistakably masculine and rough, his silhouette lit in green, shaggy short hair, a beard maybe, and a big heavy jacket.

Eden couldn't begin to guess who any of these people were, where she was, what she was doing here, but the pieces were coming together entirely too fast to ignore, her stomach churning at the implications.

A cruel, musical laugh came through the speakers. "Excellent!" said the Cheerful One. "Let's begin! We'll start the bidding at 100."

Eden's stomach froze solid; this was happening. She was being fucking auctioned like a prized cow.

She tried to take a deep breath and steady herself for whatever was coming, but the first question nearly knocked her sideways with its banality.

"What are you doing here?"

Eden blinked, unable to stop her face from giving away how bizarre she found it. "Je..." she started in French, then clenched her teeth. "How the hell should I know!?" she spat it in English so these freaks would understand her at least.

Green spoke up with a calm, "110."

The Cheerful One continued. "Now... do you consider yourself to be athletic?"

She almost laughed at that, the ghost of it seething between her teeth. She could still feel the bruise from a drunk patient kneeing her in the stomach--motherfucker was lucky she wasn't allowed to break anything. Being a paramedic meant helping people and sometimes that meant restraining an angry patient while your partner gave them something to calm down.

It wasn't like they could tell just by looking at her. She knew she was tall for a woman but whoever snatched her hadn't changed her out of her clothes, black utility pants, work boots, and a grey, oversized hoodie she threw on over her paramedic uniform. She could have some weight and it'd be hard to tell, she could just be skinny under there.

It wasn't what the voice asked her, however. Did she consider herself athletic?

Squaring her shoulders, Eden shrugged. "I guess? I don't keep track."

Blue lit up with a smooth, "120."

Eden repressed a shiver at the voice--everyone was focused on her but Blue felt the most pointed and surgical, like a scalpel trying to flay her open for study.

Red snapped. "130!"

Eden swallowed hard--the Red voice made her think of a dog champing at the bit, ready to tear into a helpless rabbit and shake its head until fur and viscera went everywhere.

That's how it was going to work then. Ask questions, see if any of her potential 'owners' found her reactions enticing enough to throw down money.

She had a sinking feeling that these people all had more than enough money to fight each other over her.

Nice to be wanted, she supposed, grimacing at her own thought.

Another damn question. "Are you scared?"

Her stomach went tight and hot and she clenched her fists, glaring at the screens in front of her. "No. I'm not afraid of you people," she growled. She wanted it to be true, wanted to believe it if not for her heart hammering and her legs shaking. The urge to run simmered in her bones, not that there was anywhere to go with her shackles bolted to the floor.

Green responded with a curt, confident, "160."

No, no, no--Green was too calm, too focused and patient. He responded well to defiance, he wanted a struggle, a fight. She hadn't fought in years, not properly, and she doubted any of these psychopaths would play fair.

The next question followed, "how much money do you make?"

Eden chewed the inside of her cheek. She got by better than most, not rich by any means but being a paramedic paid pretty well when you were good at your job. Made up for all the shit you had to deal with at least, not that she wanted them to know she was comfortable, she didn't want to brag either, make it seem like she didn't need to worry about it.

Looking down she muttered, "I'm broke."

It was true, at one point, but not now.

Red laughed with all the grace of a playground bully. "170!"

The Cheerful One continued. "How well do you follow instructions?"

Well, she couldn't deny she was good at following the rules, pretending to be normal, pretending she didn't fixate on things she shouldn't, a good law abiding citizen who didn't think about blood far too often. No, Eden was good at her job, she saved lives, she never let anyone die under her hands through inaction or negligence, she was too proud to let that happen--but the tingle of getting blood all over her hands was hard to ignore.

Eden sighed, unwilling to bullshit. "I can follow instructions just fine..."

The screen in front of her lit up with Blue's silhouette again. "Oh, 180."

The way Blue purred that sent another shiver down Eden's back. She, and Eden was very confident it was a she, really liked that answer.

The next question from Cheery nearly sent her reeling. "Are you a virgin?"

Eden jolted, staring at one of the speakers incredulously. "In this economy?" she blurted out.

Red snorted, "whore."

Not the first nor the last time she would hear that, Eden knew for damn sure.

The Cheerful one moved on without comment, voice carrying the cadence of an old gameshow host. "Don't worry, just a couple left. Do you enjoy camping?"

Eden couldn't help but look baffled. "It's... fine?"

Green growled a simple, "190."

She clenched her hands hard enough to dig her nails into her palms.

Mr Gameshow chuckled. "Alright, alright, you're doing wonderfully! Last question: who would you like to go home with?"

Hearing those words felt like swallowing a box of tacks. It was an insane question to ask someone in an equally insane position, and it was a question she had to answer nonetheless. She could say nothing, of course, and that was an unknown--they could just decide who she went with based on the last highest bidder and that was...

Eden swallowed.

She didn't want to find out what Green had in store, nor Red, nor Blue, she didn't want to find out what any of them wanted out of this sick situation but she was in the middle of it all and she was being asked to choose which poison she was most willing to swallow.

Red--insecure, crass, malicious, the image of the dog and the rabbit came to mind again.

Green--quiet, rough, focused, he wasn't here to posture or flex, he was here to get what he wanted no matter the cost.

Blue--sharp, cold, hungry, she couldn't wait to devour something whether it was sanity or life.

All things considered, Eden wasn't exactly keen on the idea of handing herself over to either of the men, doubly so if they had any interest in her body. Even then, Blue would almost certainly hurt as well, she wouldn't be here otherwise.

Cursing under her breath, Eden lifted her shackled hands to point at the middle screen, angry at herself for the way they trembled.

Blue let out a light laugh, the satisfaction of it making her shiver again. "That's not too surprising, considering your options." The mocking sympathy nearly made her squirm. "I'll take pity on you. 200."

An obnoxious snort sounded from the left. "You sound so full of yourself," Red sneered. "You should relax and let someone fill you with something else for once! Hahaha! 210!"

Panic swelled fast and brittle inside Eden, threatening to burst throughout her body like shrapnel. Not him, not him, not him.

Eden's heart stuttered for the second Blue didn't react, until she announced all smug and icy, acidic, "310."

She almost laughed when Red started sputtering impotently.

Blue laughed again, a chill, cloying sound that brought icicles to mind. "What's wrong? Did daddy not give you a big enough allowance?" she teased, disgustingly saccharine.

The left screen remained dark and silent.

Eden could practically feel Blue preening. "That's what I thought."

She almost felt relieved for a second, dodging what felt like two very nasty bullets, only for the Cheerful Gamemaster's voice to remind her that she was hardly out of anyone's cross-hairs. "Sold! To the elegant lady in blue! We'll prepare the shipment to send with you right away."

Eden frowned at the word shipment.

A sharp pain in her ankle made her yelp, derailing her thoughts

She looked down just quickly enough to see an IV withdrawing from her leg, dripping blood on the smooth floor. She didn't even feel it before, too focused on this waking nightmare, but the weight pressing on her was undeniable and as she slumped to meet the floor she realised something.

They were talking about her.

Of course they were.

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A dull, thudding ache in her skull was the first thing Eden registered upon waking.

She could feel herself sitting, slumped over a hard surface, a table perhaps. There was also an irritating drone above her, the familiar buzz of naked florescent lights.

Whatever they hit her with was potent, surely drugs but as to what kind her brain immediately began clicking away, eager for anything else to focus on but her aching body.

Zolpidem, no, too slow, wrong method of administration. Something that could be used intravenously. Propofol--not so many side-effects, fast acting, maybe. Fentanyl--it would do the job too but she was still breathing, and she made a point to swallow. Her throat didn't feel sore or scratchy, possible no intubation. Ketamine--effective in seconds when done intravenously, stimulated heart function and left the patient's breathing alone, if anything it increased it.

No matter what they used, it was still a gamble to sedate someone while they were on their feet, she could've fallen on her neck, hit her head on the way down. Then again, she was dealing with human traffickers, she didn't really expect proper medical care.

Frowning, Eden tried to tune out the buzzing, the incessant droning reminded her of working at the gas station. Fucking lights always made too much noise...

Noise.

Eden groaned and opened her eyes.

A desk. She was slumped on a desk. In an office.

She blinked.

The room was already dingy looking from her perspective, face pressed against the hard surface, arms splayed out awkwardly towards the far corners.

Trying to pull her arms back resulted in a rattle of chains, and that made her finally sit up, or sit up as much as she could anyway thanks to the cuffs keeping her wrists chained to the desk.

"What the fuck..." Eden hissed. She tried to yank against the restraints, making a loud clang against the metal legs and sending a sharp bolt of tension through her skull. She groaned and curled over, screwing her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to fade.

Opening her eyes she stared down at herself to see the basic office chair she was sitting on and clothes that definitely weren't hers. Some loose fitting office wear. Men's office wear.

"Finally."

Eden nearly launched out of her body at the voice, so cool and soft, and disturbingly present--Blue was standing right in front of her.

She froze at the sight of the other woman, unsure what exactly she had expected from someone who would buy a whole human being off some shady auction.

The woman in front of her was, to Eden's mortification, very easy on the eyes. Perfectly put together in her black skirt and fashionable leather jacket, the innocent blue of her top contrasting the sharp red of her eyes. She had shoulder length hair, styled so it fell in complimentary waves around her face and professionally coloured in a smooth gradient from brown to caramel at the tips.

It was the red eyes that kept Eden immobilized--piercing her like railroad spikes through tender flesh.

All she could manage was a muttered, "Who...?"

The woman crossed her arms, relaxed. "I don't know what they drugged you with," she said conversationally, ignoring Eden's half-formed question, "but I was starting to worry you'd just lay there drooling forever."

Eden frowned, glancing at the desk where a small puddle of drool had indeed gathered. Ketamine it was then, not that she was going to say that.

Blue continued, "are you awake now?"

Eden looked back up, swallowing, "Uh-"

She was interrupted with a quick, "good," from Blue. "My name is Celia. You may call me Celia or Ma'am."

Eden didn't respond, waiting to see if the other woman was done first--so she had a name now. Real or fake, that was another matter.

Celia stepped closer and even on the other side of the desk she felt too close and Eden stiffened, all too aware she was being looked up and down like a new toy. "This is the part where you introduce yourself," she said, eyes sharp and unwavering, her posture exuding utter control over the situation.

The back of Eden's neck prickled. "My name is Eden Tremblay," she said mildly. She needed to figure out what kind of person she was dealing with before she could figure out how she was going to get out of this.

Silence. Celia just stared for an agonising moment, the corners of her mouth tilting just so in a pleased smirk. "Good."

Walking right up to the desk, Celia leaned forward and tapped the surface with a perfectly manicured nail, her eyes never leaving Eden. "You were very expensive," she said, far too casually. "So I'm expecting you to perform."

Eden's mind raced. Perform could hold any number of meanings here.

Celia continued. "Just do as you're told. It isn't that hard. If you're good you get to live. I'll bring you food and take care of you."

Those sharp eyes darkened, lids lowering in a look that told Eden her next words were a promise. "If you're not, then you suffer. Simple."

Just as the last syllable left her mouth the sound of a phone alert cut the tension in the room with the grace of a shovel.

Celia's air of superiority and control fractured, just for a second, quickly replaced by a bristling agitation.

Clicking her tongue, Celia turned and stepped away from the desk without another word, pulling out a smartphone. She quickly began tapping away at it, messaging someone most likely but Eden couldn't see the screen and didn't want to risk being caught looking.

After a moment, she heard Celia hiss, "fucking moron." A string of curses followed quickly, someone had definitely pissed her off.

Eden tried to ignore the sweat beginning to bead on her brow.

Celia turned back to her with an annoyed sigh. "All right..." she said, "apparently I have to go babysit some manchildren at work. I have to go."

It jumped out of her throat before she could stop it, nerves getting the better of her. "Wait!"

Celia blinked, taken aback, and Eden continued. "This has to be a mistake! I didn't fucking do anything to anyone, I was kidnapped!"

Any chance of the other woman being merciful vanished with her cruel bark of laughter. "That's not my problem," she said coolly. "Now shut up. I'll be back later."

She began to walk away and Eden pulled away the chains, making her stall. "Please don't leave me like this, at least let me lie down!"

Celia half turned, smirking. "If you're a good little mouse, then maybe we'll get you somewhere more comfortable next time, hm?"

And with that she left, locking the door behind her.

Eden could only listen to the sound of her heels fading, until their was a pause, a faint ding, then nothing. A lift maybe--this did look like an office, albeit one that hadn't been used in a few years. Or ten.

She glanced around the room, taking in the chipped walls, scattered bits of paper, empty cork boards. The carpet was cheap and stained in a few areas with what could only be blood, and a couple of filing cabinets were on the far side of the room next to the door. The door itself had a glass pane but it didn't look clear enough to see through. Honestly, it was hard to tell from her position.

Looking down, Eden took stock of said position, the masculine office clothes, her chained wrists, the desk. It didn't look expensive, unlike her, apparently.

She gave the chains an experimental pull and felt only a little bit of give. She tried again after leaning forward and wrapping her hands around the chain so the cuffs didn't dig all that weight into her wrists. The table held fast against her effort, only creaking under the pressure at the last moment before she relented, grimacing at the pain in her wrists.

She could try to keep herself from doing serious damage as much as she liked but the anchor point was her wrists all the same, holding the chain could only do so much if she really put all her strength into pulling.

Eden hissed a curse under her breath, slipping back into French now that she was alone.

She muttered it, "fuck."

The lights droned on.

She slammed her fists on the desk. "Fuck!" she screamed.

Nothing happened.

No one came running along to check on her.