Chapter 16: Collateral Damage
Maya’s charge was all fury and no physics. Ben didn’t even flinch. As she came at him, hands clawing for his face, he simply pivoted, caught her by the waist mid-stride, and used her own momentum to drive her down onto the vacant mat beside Lilly. The air exploded from her lungs in a sharp cry that was swallowed by the crowd’s sudden, hungry roar.
“See?” Ben announced, his voice amplified by the room’s acoustics. He wasn’t shouting; he was stating facts. “Enthusiasm is contagious.”
He knelt, his knee pressing into Maya’s spine as she writhed. He produced a second set of nylon cuffs from a nearby gear bag—professional, heavy-duty. With efficient, brutal speed, he bound her wrists to the same steel rings Lilly was tethered to. Her struggle was useless against his practiced strength.
“Let her go, Ben!” Emely yelled, but her voice was thin, a reed against a storm.
Ben stood, ignoring her. He looked at the powerlifter, who had finally stepped off Lilly’s heaving chest. “We’re switching to a synchronized protocol. Double compression mode.” He signaled to two guys in the crowd, who carried over a long, wide panel of thick, polished plywood. They laid it carefully across both girls, covering Lilly from shoulders to knees and Maya from her upper back down to her thighs. The wood pressed down on their injuries, drawing a synchronized gasp of pain.
“Who’s first?” Ben asked the room.
Hands shot up. Whistles cut the air. This was new. This was better.
The first few were cautious, stepping onto the board like it was a canoe. Their weight was distributed, a deep, shared ache. Then came the football players. Ben’s teammates. They understood force vectors. They knew how to drive with their legs.
A linebacker named Marcus went first. He didn’t just step. He stomped, a flat-footed jump onto the center of the board, right over Lilly’s compressed belly and Maya’s diaphragm. The wood bowed. Both girls shrieked, the sound merging into one note of pure, airless distress.
“Transfer the load, Marcus,” Ben coached, calm as a scientist. “Rock forward. Let them feel the shift.”
Marcus did. The pain migrated, a rolling earthquake inside them.
Another player jumped on, then another. Soon, there were five, then eight, then a full squad of fifteen massive bodies crowding the platform, the board groaning, the hydraulic pistons underneath whining in a sustained, metallic complaint. The weight was unimaginable. It wasn’t just on them; it was them. The world narrowed to splintering wood, crushing density, and the smell of male sweat and cheap beer.
Lilly, through a haze of broken ribs and glorious, terrible pressure, turned her head. Her cheek was against the cold mat. She looked straight into Maya’s eyes, just inches away. Maya’s face was contorted, tear-streaked, her mouth open in a silent, continuous scream. Their fingers, bound separately, strained toward each other, unable to touch.
“Emely,” Ben said.
She was pressed against the barrier, shaking. She hadn’t moved.
“Get up here. You’re part of this system. You provide counter-balance. Stand in the center.”
“No,” she whispered.
“You volunteered,” he reminded her, his voice devoid of malice. It was just logic. “The structure is unstable. You’re lightweight. You’ll stabilize the load. Get up here.”
The crowd chanted her name. “Em-ely! Em-ely!”
Her legs moved before her mind agreed. She was pulled onto the stage, hoisted up by helpful hands that felt like claws. They placed her carefully, like a piece of equipment, in the very center of the teeming mass of bodies on the board. She stood, wobbling, her bare feet on the sweating wood directly over her friends’ trapped bodies.
She looked down. Through the forest of legs, she could see their faces. Lilly’s eyes held a shattered, faraway fascination. Maya’s held only white terror, and a plea.
A player shifted his weight. The board tilted. Emely stumbled, her foot coming down hard for balance. Beneath her, directly under her heel, she felt the distinct, soft resistance of Lilly’s abdomen. She yanked her foot back as if burned.
“Don’t fight it,” Ben called up to her. “Just stand. Be the pillar.”
She locked her knees, trembling. Every minor adjustment from the men around her transmitted through the wood into the vulnerable flesh below. She was the conductor of their torment. Her own bruises from earlier throbbed in sympathy.
“More dynamic loading!” Ben commanded.
Two players started a slow, synchronized jump. The impact was systematic, rhythmic, a piston driving the life from the girls beneath. With each jarring landing, Emely was bounced a few inches into the air. She sobbed, helpless.
Beneath the board, Maya’s silent scream finally found a voice. It was a raw, ragged thing. “Stop! Please!”
Lilly didn’t speak. She just stared up at Emely, her eyes wide and unblinking. A single tear leaked from the corner, tracing a clean line through the grime on her face. She gave the smallest, almost imperceptible shake of her head. Don’t get down, it seemed to say. It’ll be worse.
Emely understood. Her staying up there was the only thread of control she had. If she broke, if she collapsed, the chaos of fifteen massive bodies losing their balance would come crashing down on her friends in a single, catastrophic collapse.
She forced her spine straight. She stared at a crack in the ceiling, detaching her mind from the animal sounds beneath her feet, from the jeers and cheers, from Ben’s cool commentary. She became the pillar. She held the terrible, trembling weight.
And inside, where no one could see, something in her fractured. Not into weakness, but into a cold, hard clarity. She locked eyes with Ben, who watched from the sidelines with analytic interest. In that moment, she wasn't just a participant anymore. She was a witness. And she would remember every detail.