by Eve R. Hart
I wanted to piss them off. I wanted to let them know that I had their fucking number. Fuck them and fuck all of this shit.
“We’ll see how clever you are in a little while,” he said, his accent thicker than the other guy’s. Then he dropped the tray on the floor right by his feet. Without another word, he turned and walked out.
I didn’t even try to go for it. There was no use because I knew I didn’t have enough slack in the chain to get to it. I’d just leave it there until the right moment. I had a plan and now this might actually work to my advantage.
I didn’t look at the food, which half of it ended up jumping ship when the tray collided with the floor. At this point, I was pretty hungry, but I was also smart enough to know that staring longly at whatever shit meal they fixed up was only going to make it worse.
I shifted around trying to get comfortable, the chain feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds and making my neck ache. It was time to stop fucking around. I was going to find a way out of this. There had to be something to help me get the zip tie off my wrists. Since it was a single one, I knew the least obvious way to get them off would be to saw it on something sharp until I wore the plastic down. I just needed to find something…
My fingers fumbled behind me looking for a nail or loose baseboard. I continued to shift around like I was uncomfortable while my fingers felt around behind me. My face held a bored expression. I felt a break in the wooden border and let out a small sigh. The edge wasn’t sticking out far enough to help me but maybe I could work it free a bit more. My fingers slipped as I tried to get a grip on it. Something sliced the tips of my fingers and I held back a hiss of pain. The blood that was now coating my fingers was not going to make things easier. I tried to slip the plastic ring around the loose corner. It took three tries, but I finally got it to catch. Locking my elbows and squaring my shoulders, I readied for my next move.
My body curled forward as I jerked with a fake coughing fit. It allowed me to yank my hands without suspicion. Or so I hoped. It worked, the board had separated just enough to where I could slip the corner between my wrists. I could work with that.
Slowly I sawed the plastic back and forth over the rough wood. I could feel the plastic dust-like particles falling onto my fingers. Well, I hoped that was what it was anyway. I really needed this to work. It started to get hot against my skin, but I didn’t stop. Once it felt like it was weak enough to where I could snap it with my own strength, I stopped.
The door opened again and in walked an odd surprise. A tall woman in skyscraper heels sauntered in carrying a huge purse tucked into the crook of her elbow. Her dark brown hair spilled in waves over her shoulders. Her silk, bright red shirt was a perfect match to the shade that coated her lips. And it was those full lips that had me temporarily slipping away from the situation that I was currently in.
Yeah, I’d had my fair share of women, I wouldn’t even try to deny that. And this one was welcome to add herself to that list.
Tits high and perky, but not in that rubber balloon sort of way. No, they were all soft and pillowy looking as they peeked out over the unbuttoned part of her shirt. Which was not nearly undone as I would have hoped for.
Her legs were long, or it could have been that they seemed longer because I was on the ground looking up. The tight, leather looking pants did nothing to hide how toned they were. Shit, her thighs were thick, but in that I-could-snap-your-neck sort of way. But they weren’t bulky to the point that she had a hard time walking. I wouldn’t mind having those legs wrapped around my head. Hell, I wouldn’t mind if she did pop my head like a cherry as she came with my tongue buried deep in that pussy.
But that image shattered as I looked up to meet her eyes.
Black.
Soulless.
Void of any kind of emotion. She looked almost bored, but it was something more than that. Whatever it was, it had me swallowing hard.
She turned and walked over to the chair in the far corner and set her bag down with an odd kind of grace. Then she turned and walked over to me. She didn’t even hesitate to step right up into my space and squat down to my level. Her head cocked to the side as she silently took me in. In a blink, her eyes looked into mine and it was like she knew every fucking thing about me. This I was not prepared for and I had a feeling what was to come might actually break me.
“Are you sure that you don’t want to eat,” she said, her voice eerily calm and even. She rose to her feet with a slowness that made a shiver shoot up my spine. “You’re going to need your strength.”
She walked over and swiftly kicked the tray of food in my direction. I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her for one fucking second.
“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug. “This is going to happen either way.”
“Who are you?” I asked and my voice sounded raw and scratchy.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked to her bag and rummaged around, eventually pulling out something that I couldn’t see because her body was blocking the way. With a smooth turn on the balls of her feet, she faced me again.
“They call me The Butcher,” she said, finally answering my question. “But I think it doesn’t really fit me. I mean, you think of a butcher and usually the first thing that comes to mind is a thick, hairy man. I’m none of those things. However, I could see how my end results could earn me that name.”
If I wasn’t mistaken there was a hint of excitement in her last statement. Yeah, this was definitely not good. I started to doubt that I would get myself out of this.
“Do you know what these are?” she asked as she held out thin, flat sticks that reminded me of those throwaway coffee stirrers. Only these were pointed at one end and not made out of a cheap wood. “These are bamboo. Some people use them to separate the nail from the skin. But I use them a bit differently. Think of this as…acupuncture from hell.”
My heart began to race and I could no longer control my breathing. The fear was there and I knew there was no hiding it.
“Now be a good boy and sit still.”
She grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back. I wiggled as much as I could manage but the lack of sleep and food had me a bit weak. Not to mention the beatings I’d already taken.
“Oh, fuck!” I screamed out as her ass descended onto my abdomen and the first tiny spear pierced the skin between my ribs. She slid it just under the surface and so slowly that I felt the skin stretching and separating.
When she was done, there was still about two inches sticking out of my flesh.
“You could end this and just tell the man what he wants to know. Though I have to be honest, he seems a bit pissed. He might let me play with you a bit longer.”
When I didn’t answer, she started on a new spot. This one right in my damn shoulder socket and it went in deeper than the first. I screamed and thrashed as much as I could. She might have been a woman, but right then, she had the advantage.
A burning pain shot through my arm and all the way down to my fingers. She didn’t say anything as she moved on to the next spot. I looked down at the hand that was wrapped around a shit-load of those fucking torture sticks and saw there were too many to even fucking count. I knew this was just the beginning and I couldn’t even lie to myself and say that it would be over soon. I had a good idea that her bag held an endless number of items to help keep the party going.
Another one in between the ribs. Then one under my collarbone. That one went deep and stung like a bitch.
“Your underwear is very convenient, she said as she moved back and slid one into my groin.
I knew enough to know that none of these would cause any lasting damage. No, they weren’t designed to incapacitate me in any way. They were meant to cause a slow, lasting pain. Just enough to be a step up from annoying.
When she was done I had over twenty sticks in me. I was like a real live version of Saint Sebastian. And I wasn’t talking about those nice paintings that portrayed him with just one or two arrows throug
h his body. I was thinking more along the lines of how Andrea Mantegna and Maestro degli Occhi did him up.
“How do you live with yourself?” I asked half delirious.
Sweat poured off of me, mixing with the little trickling trails of blood. And to think I thought I needed a shower before she stepped into the room.
She walked to the other side of the room and retrieved a dainty, white cloth to wipe her hands on. Not that she really had that much blood on her.
This was the moment for the first part of my plan. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hang on, but I had to try. I had to make every move at the right time. Patience was my friend right now. If I did everything at once then I had no doubt I’d end up dead. I wouldn’t make it out and I wouldn’t be able to stop them.
While she had her back to me, I slowly reached my legs out and slid the tray of food between my feet. I held my breath and prayed for accuracy like I’d never had before. In a blink, I kicked my legs up and tossed the tray in her direction, or what I wanted them to think anyway. My aim was the camera. I hoped I would smear the mush and block their view, and if I was lucky, I might even knock it loose.
I watched as it flew just to the left of her shoulder and hit the wall. Fuck, yes! Not only bullseye, but I also managed to knock the damn thing out of its hiding place. I tried not to smile as it fell to the floor along with the tray and food. There was no way that even if it was working, they could see my corner of the room.
“Missed,” she said in a tone that didn't sound fazed by the action.
“Oh well,” I said back trying my hardest to sound just as bored.
She came at me again, her saunter reminding me of a panther, slow and meticulous. The blade in her hand spun against the pointer finger of her opposite hand.
“Ready for more?” she asked and didn’t wait for a response as she quickly whipped the knife across my chest.
My body curled inward and I felt the blood run down, leaving a wet trail in the direction of my abs.
“I have a favorite number. Any guesses as to what it might be?”
“I would hope for two, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be that nice,” I replied back. It didn’t come out like I’d hoped. It was weak and lacked the punch that I wanted.
“Shall we count together,” she said as she slashed my flesh again, this time on my forearm.
“Fuck. You. Cunt!” I screamed out as the third one marked me just under my ribcage.
Thirty-two.
That was her so-called favorite fucking number. That was how many cuts she left on me. That was the number of them that I endured. And surprisingly, I was able to count them all in my head and not pass out.
My body was on fire. I could feel the blood collecting on the floor beside all around me to the point that I was starting to slip on it more and more every time I wiggled around.
Then she took a break. She didn’t leave, but she did lean against the far wall and studied me. I knew that was what she was doing because she had this crease between her brows that gave her away.
“Answers,” she demanded. “How did you know about the auction?”
“I saw the ad in the paper.”
This earned me a slow, disappointed shake of the head.
“Why this?” I asked as a way to stall the next surprise she had in store for me.
“What do you want me to tell you?” she said with a blank face. “My mother didn’t love me and my daddy liked to touch me when we were alone at night.” Then she let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh that only confirmed that she was truly fucked up. Okay, so I might have figured that out before, but that had definitely solidified it. “No. My mother was a good woman and my daddy loved me like a dad should. I was just born this way. I figured it is better to give into it then try to hide it and be miserable for my entire life.”
“Was?” I asked to keep this thing going.
“Yeah,” she said pinning me with a dead stare. “How do you think I knew I was fucked up? I was thirteen when I killed them both. And before you ask, my only reason was because I could.”
“Right,” I said and tried to think of something else, but honestly I was at a loss.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Having a chat?”
“How did you find out about the auction?”
“This again,” I replied. “I thought we were past this.”
“You have a big mouth, anyone ever told you that?”
“Oh, yes,” I said and tried my best to smile.
“It’s time. I hope you’re ready.”
No, she didn’t. She didn’t care if I was or not.
Once her back was turned to me, I tried to pull my wrists free. And fuck! I somehow miscalculated and I wasn’t able to free myself. I had no choice but to try to get into position again and try to saw some more.
While she wasn’t paying attention, I hooked the zip tie over the corner of the broken wood again. I had no doubt that I’d be able to hide my actions behind the pain she was going to inflict on me.
CHAPTER TEN
Bocca
Before she could pull the next trick out of her bag, the door opened with a force that actually made me twitch. Mr. Boss-guy walked in and I would have sworn that angry scowl was permanently etched into his face.
“You get anything?” he asked looking at me, but obviously not talking to me.
“Not yet,” the bitch replied sounding almost excited about it.
“Hurry it the fuck up. I want this done. Now,” he barked and she didn’t even look the littlest bit fazed by his demand or tone.
Her hand snapped up and then the sound of an electric drill filled the room.
For a second, I could have sworn I saw a flash of fear in the big guy’s eyes. But it was quickly wiped away as he turned his attention to scan the room. I had to hold my smirk back knowing that he was trying to be discreet about checking out the camera. That right there was all the confirmation I needed that it wasn’t working. He had no need to come in here other than to check and see what had happened. However, he wasn’t about to out the fact that it was there and attempt to fix the problem right then. No, that would give too much away.
That also clued me into the fact that he wasn’t on to me. If he was, he would have revealed it because then I would have already known. Damn, maybe I was good at this shit. Better than I thought, anyway. So I did my best to play the delusional, on the brink of cracking, torture victim. I played up the coughing fit for good measure.
“Out,” she snapped at him.
He sneered at her but didn’t say anything. Then he backed out of the room, closing the door once he was over the threshold.
“This part will be fun,” she said making her way back over to me with slow steps. The echo of her heels made it feel ominous and the look in her eyes almost had me wishing for death. “For me, anyway. Not so much for you.”
A piercing scream ripped from my throat as she pushed the drill into my calf, the drill bit tearing my flesh and muscle with ease. That was fucking painful. More painful than being fucking shot. My body twitched and jerked uncontrollably and I tried my best to get away, the zip tie long forgotten. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even fucking see straight at this point.
The sound ceased and with a blank blink, she ripped the drill back. Blood flung from the dull metal, splattering my face and chest.
“Fuck!” I roared as my body folded upward.
I didn’t get very far because her knee was suddenly at my throat, crushing and pinning me back down.
I couldn’t take much more. I knew I couldn’t. As the dark dots flickered in my eyes and my head started to feel fuzzy, I knew I needed to make my move right fucking now. I wiggled around like a dying fish until I had the plastic hooked around the jagged wood again. The drill descended on my skin again, this time right on the inside of my hip bone. The odd clicking noise and feeling like my whole body was vibrating made me think that she had actually skimmed bone.
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I clenched my teeth and bit back the scream that tried to release. Spittle flew from my lips as I pushed out a few hard breaths. I felt the snap behind my back and I knew that I was finally fucking free.
As the drill started up again, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t think or even have any sort of plan. And I almost didn’t even realize what I was doing—and more importantly, who I was doing it to. That was something I was going to have to process later.
In one quick move, I wrapped my legs around her torso and grabbed the chain. I had enough slack to wrap it around her neck three times. I knew this because that was what I did. And I didn’t let up on it for a second. I pulled with all my strength with both arms, while my legs pinned her to my body.
She didn’t say anything. Not that I really thought that she could have. She didn’t even try to speak. The only difference I noticed in her expression was that her eyes went wide. But there wasn’t anything there. Not shock. Or surprise. Or even fear as the realization set in that she wasn’t going to make it out of this room alive.
“Fuck you,” I growled through gritted teeth.
The drill fell to the side as her body went slack. I held on for good measure because I only had this one chance and I wasn’t going to fuck it up. She didn’t try to fight me. She didn’t even grab at the chain around her neck. And I could have sworn there was a touch of a smile on her bright red lips as I watched the last of the so-called life dance out of her eyes.
Then I took it a step further because I honestly wasn’t sure how weak I was and I needed to make sure she wouldn’t be getting up. I released the chain and gripped her head. One hand in her hair at the crown of her head, one hand on her chin. With a quick jerk, I heard the loud crack that let me know I’d done my job.
My breaths came out short and choppy. Bile rushed up my throat but I held it down. I shoved her body off of me and turned away.
Yeah, sure, I’d killed before. More times than I really wanted to admit. But I’d never, fucking ever, put my hands on a woman in violence, let alone killed one. I had just broken some of my most important rules. But I kept telling myself that I didn’t have a choice.