Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie 2)

by Kimberly Adams

  I forced a smile, kissing her gently before turning her back into my arms.

  We didn’t stop again.

  After forty-five minutes, she squatted in the corner of the van, and we did our best to cover the urine with the paper bag and napkins.

  I almost lost it when I finally let myself think about being separated from her. I could continue to tell myself that I’d protect her, but there would be nothing stopping them from tearing us apart once we got to wherever we were going.

  The van slowed before rolling to a stop, and the window cracked in the cab.

  “You’re not getting out. Here.”

  He tossed a roll of paper towels back to us, and I assumed they intended for us to piss on them like fucking dogs.

  “… Hale’s former fiancé, Matthew Fowler. He and Thane’s brother, Luke, took turns before the press today, their families sitting behind them in emotional tears.”

  “Oh God,” Vivian whispered before the window slammed shut once again.

  “Vivian.” I covered our mess with the paper towels as best as I could before turning her way. “I want you to listen to me. Do not let them get you alone. Scream, fight, do whatever you can. Make it really fucking hard for them to try. Buy me as much time as you can to protect you, okay?”

  The gravity of my words began to sink in as she nodded, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m scared,” she repeated, her hand trembling over her lips.

  My stomach turned. I pressed my back against the cold, aluminum wall with her in my arms.

  “I know.”

  V for Vendetta

  V

  The van door opened.

  There were hands on my upper arms. The pitch black night stole the full scene from me, and I finally focused on a cabin right behind the man reaching for me.

  “No,” I murmured, not even realizing that a sound had escaped my throat.

  He grabbed me by my hair and yanked.

  “Get her inside.”

  An unfamiliar man’s voice choked the protesting scream from my throat.

  Inherently, I knew that it was him.

  The killer.

  “Keaton?” I cried, trying to turn toward him.

  The man turned to Keaton, reared back, and punched him right in the face.

  I lost it then, screaming, not caring that my hair was being torn from its roots. Keaton recovered quickly, not struggling against the other man holding him at gunpoint.

  “Derrick,” he managed, sniffling at the trail of blood that ran from his nose. “She has nothing to do with this. With what I did to you. Let her go-”

  Another slam with his fist, this time knocking Keaton to his knees.

  “Stop! What is wrong with you? Stop!” I screamed, trying desperately to run to Keaton.

  I realized then that it was very, very cold outside.

  The air was thin, almost making it hard to breathe.

  We are in the mountains.

  “She has everything to do with this. Get them inside.”

  His icy order set his two henchmen into motion. I finally saw this face in the moonlight, and there was something familiar about him.

  Derrick.

  Slowly, I began to piece together the events leading up to Keaton’s divorce. I thought of the tabloid photos that I’d seen of him after he’d been arrested for beating and almost killing Kelsey’s lover.

  This was the man.

  His face barely resembled the press photos I’d seen. He’d obviously had reconstructive surgery…

  Several surgeries.

  “How should this scene go, director? Hmm?” Derrick crossed his arms over his broad chest, delivering a solid kick to Keaton’s side. I went wild in my captor’s arms, trying with all of my strength to go to Keaton. “Do I lock you both here in this cabin until you die? Kill one of you, starve the other? Let’s brainstorm. You want to make a horror movie. Give me your ideas.”

  “Let her go,” Keaton breathed, his voice tense with pain.

  “She’s quite the pretty little thing, isn’t she? Not at all like your bitch of an ex-wife.” He turned to me, and my stomach flipped as he took a step in my direction.

  Keaton lost it.

  After so many blows, I would never have expected him to shoot to his feet, diving for Derrick. He got one good swing in, sending Derrick staggering before the other man pistol-whipped him, sending Keaton to his knees.

  “Fuck,” Keaton growled, reaching for his bleeding head.

  “That was stupid,” Derrick hissed, rushing at me.

  I widened my eyes, unable to control the involuntary kick that I delivered directly to his crotch.

  “Don’t touch me!” I screamed at him, watching him hold himself and writhe. The man pulling on my hair nearly tore the fistful in his hand from my scalp, and I screamed, clawing at his fingers.

  “Get them inside. You, I’m going to have fun with,” Derrick snapped at me, shooting a misshapen, wicked grin in my direction.

  My blood ran cold.

  Keaton grunted as he was forced to his feet. The cabin appeared to have only one room, the ceiling high and made of old wooden beams. A small, cot-like twin bed lined the far wall, a dirty, stained mattress resting on an old steel frame.

  “Chain them both, across the room from each other. One foot.”

  I was shoved across the cabin, and Keaton was dragged to the wall closest to the door. Actual chains- with shackles- were bolted to the wall, and I whimpered at the bloodstains on the floor.

  This was where he kept them.

  This is where he kept the girls before he killed them.

  “Well, director, you love the movies so much,” Derrick hissed, reaching for something from the crude mantle above an old fireplace.

  I flattened my back against the wall, realizing he was holding a saw.

  “Let’s see how desperate you can get.” He tossed the saw in Keaton’s direction, gesturing to the metal shackle now chained to Keaton’s ankle. “We’re going to play a little fucking game. Sound good?”

  “No,” I sobbed, trying desperately to squirm away as one of the gunmen locked the metal cuff around my ankle.

  “Derrick, you don’t want to do this.” Keaton’s voice was commanding, not a trace of begging in his tone.

  “Oh, yes. Yes I really do. I’m going to go say goodbye to my friends, and then we’ll pick up where we left off. We have a movie to make!” he exclaimed maniacally.

  I realized, at that moment, that he’d completely lost his fucking mind.

  I had no idea why I thought for one second that there would be reasoning with this man. This was a killer. This was a man who was killing women and dumping their bodies in amusement parks.

  This was a man whose entire motive was revenge against the one man who I loved more than anything in the world.

  I waited until he walked out the front door of the cabin before attempting to move.

  “Keaton?” I cried, jerking my bare ankle against the shackle. “He’s going to torture and kill us!”

  “No he’s not,” Keaton replied, so calmly that I wanted to scream. The blood that had trickled below his nose had begun to dry, and he sniffed, sitting back against the wall.

  “He’s sick! Didn’t you hear him?” I begged, giving up and shoving back against the opposite wall.

  “Listen to me.” He brushed at his nose with the back of his hand, peering through the shadowy cabin. A lamp with a broken shade was propped against the wall near the door, and the rest of the horrible room was cast in darkness. “They took my cell phone. It can be traced.”

  “They’ve been smart enough to elude the FBI for this long, and you really think they didn’t dump your phone somewhere?”

  “Listen, I’m trying to tell you some comforting lies, will you please just go with me here?”

  “Keaton!” I shrieked, holding my stomach. “We are going to die here!”

  “No you’re not,” the killer replied, smiling my way as he moved back into the cabin. The hea
vy, wooden door closed with a thud. “Not you, pretty girl.”

  “Not Keaton,” I argued, my temper pounding in my temples as I shot him heated daggers.

  “Vivian,” Keaton warned.

  “What? You’re out of your fucking mind. This isn’t a game, we’re real, we’re human. You’re playing with human lives, Derrick,” I tried, attempting to use his name.

  “Not playing. We’re making a movie, Actress,” he corrected, and only then did I realize there was a camera set up in the corner of the room on a tripod.

  Oh God.

  “Let’s see how long it takes for Keaton to use the saw. I’ll be back.”

  He chuckled, turning on the camera and heading for the door.

  I held my breath as I heard a truck start, and gravel turn in the driveway.

  “He left? He left us here?” I cried, pulling again at the metal cuff on my ankle. My bare foot was beginning to swell.

  “I fucking hope so. I’d rather be chained to a wall than have him hosting a horror movie marathon starring us,” he clipped.

  Silence filled the cabin.

  He held his white shirtsleeve against his nose, dabbing at the blood.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, shivering in the cold room. It couldn’t have been above forty degrees, and I regretted that Keaton had given me his sport jacket.

  I knew he had to be cold in only a white t-shirt.

  “I’ll be okay. What about you?”

  I only nodded.

  “The baby?” he urged.

  “She’s fine. She’s small and… safe.”

  He smiled then, his grin lending to his one sided dimple. “That’s a good way to put it. You just made me feel better.”

  I was so thirsty, and I knew that Keaton had to be, too.

  I slumped down against the wall, fatigue washing over me as I registered a certain amount of relief. We were there, and alive, and the killer had left us alone. For how long, I had no idea, but just the thought of being somewhat safe left me exhausted.

  “I wish I could hold you, kiddo.”

  His empty words from across the room broke my heart. I buried my face in my hands, pressing to my knees.

  “I can’t watch him hurt you,” Keaton went on, his own voice strained with weariness.

  “I can’t watch him hurt you either,” I breathed, trying to fight back the precious tears. I had no idea how long it’d be until we had water again… or if we’d have water again… and crying wasn’t going to help.

  “I feel fucking useless. I walked you right into that car, and let him kick my fucking ass and chain me to a wall.”

  “There were guns pointed at our heads, Keaton. If you tried to be a hero, we’d both be dead. And you did fight,” I said, letting my eyes close. “He turned and started walking toward me, and you lost it.”

  He was silent for a long moment.

  “I beat him within an inch of his life when I found him with Kelsey. He intends to kill me. I won’t go down without a fight. If that means letting you live, that’s all that matters to me.”

  “I won’t let you,” I murmured, barely able to keep my eyes open. “I love you Keaton.”

  “I love you, Vivian Hale.”

  . . .

  “Vivian.”

  I stirred, trying to pull myself out of the nightmare.

  I woke into the nightmare.

  Sunlight streamed through the small window, and Derrick sat at the crude table.

  He toyed with a sledgehammer, rocking the handle back and forth between his legs.

  “Well, Saw was a no-go, I guess,” he said, and I sat up, my muscles aching with every movement. “I didn’t expect you to chop off your own foot, not after only one night.”

  Keaton watched him carefully, his eyes on the sledgehammer. “No, that wouldn’t be very realistic, would it?”

  “Nah, it wouldn’t, Director.” He slid his booted feet across the floor, pulling himself to stand.

  The sledgehammer stood on its own accord, the heavy metal mallet propped on the floor.

  “You want to make her a star,” he said quietly, gesturing my way. “But how many actresses win Oscars for a horror movie?”

  Keaton swallowed, taking a deep, even breath. “Kathy Bates. 1990. Misery.”

  “You do know your movies.”

  “Please… please no, please,” I broke, yanking at the shackle on my leg. “God, I’ll do anything, please don’t hurt him, please,” I begged.

  “Aw. She’ll do anything.” Derrick turned to me, and Keaton’s eyes remained steadily trained on the sledgehammer. “When Kathy Bates picked up that sledgehammer and broke the writer’s ankles… that was the moment that she won the Academy Award. That was the pinnacle turning point in her career.”

  I pressed my hand to my mouth, bile rising to my throat.

  “How about this? I’ll give you a choice. It’ll be up to you. Would You Rather,” he added, grinning. “That was a great movie. Did you see that one?”

  “No,” I whispered, choking back the vomit.

  “Keaton, would you rather let Vivian break your ankles, or watch her make love to another man?”

  Jesus Christ. I lost it then.

  My stomach turned, and the full realization of what was happening slammed into my chest. I scrambled against the chains, reaching for him. “Keaton, I’m not hurting you, don’t!” I screamed.

  “Well? Tick tock.” Derrick glared at Keaton, his fingers wrapping around the length of the wooden handle.

  Rape? Is that what this was going to boil down to? I pleaded with Keaton, shaking my head. “No,” I growled at him. “I’m not hurting you.”

  “Time’s up.” Derrick turned to me, and Keaton shot off the wall, nearly breaking his own ankle with the strength of his movement. “Actress, you decide. Either way, I want him to know that you made the choice. It’ll soften the blow.”

  “Please…”

  “Break his ankles, or make love to another man in front of him? You decide.”

  “Fuck you!” I screamed, covering my stomach pathetically. “I’m pregnant, you horrible fucking monster! How can you do this?”

  “I’m going to decide for you in five seconds.”

  I turned my face to Keaton’s.

  He stared at me, leveling his eyes. “Do it, Vivian. I’ll survive.”

  I knew he meant for me to break his ankles.

  There was no way I could pick up a sledgehammer and break anyone’s bones, much less Keaton’s. “No. No sledgehammer. Fuck you.”

  Derrick sighed, letting the heavy tool lean against the wall.

  “I had a feeling you’d choose that. Well, that was intense, right?” he asked, his eyes a crazy storm of blue and grey. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You need to look your best for your big scene tonight.”

  My entire body trembled as he pulled out the gun, aiming it at my head.

  As he unchained me, I contemplated running. Keaton saw the flicker of anticipation in my eyes, shaking his head slightly.

  Not yet.

  “There’s a shower right through here,” Derrick said, gesturing to a small door. “Don’t worry, I’m not coming in. I’ll give you your privacy while I have a little chat with your director. Take your time, beauty,” he urged.

  I halted, freezing at his words.

  Don’t call me that, I wanted to scream.

  The bathroom was utterly disgusting. The running water in the shower was slightly orange, and the toilet was stained with hard water and grime. I had to use the bathroom so badly, and I knew that Keaton probably did, too.

  “Please let him come in here with me,” I asked, my voice barely carrying across the room.

  I wished my words back immediately.

  Derrick took a step in my direction. “Are you needing some company?”

  I shook my head, forcing myself to close the bathroom door.

  A single light bulb hung on a wire above my head, and the room was windowless. I searched every horrible inch of the bathroom fo
r something, anything, to use as a weapon.

  “I don’t hear the water,” Derrick called.

  I jumped, hurriedly twisting the nozzle.

  The water was bitingly cold, and barely made it to cool, even with the dial turned all the way to hot. I let the water wash away the filth, ignoring the old bar of rotted soap against the dish. Defeated, I relieved the pressure in my bladder.

  How many girls did he kill?

  How many victims stood right here?

  I turned the water off not three minutes later, shivering against the cold.

  “Put your clothes back on. You’ll dry eventually.”

  I hated his voice.

  I left my underwear on the ground, slipping the dress over my shoulders and wrapping myself in Keaton’s jacket.

  As I hurried from the bathroom, I gave Keaton a quick assessment. He was exactly where I’d left him, following my every move as I lingered near the wall again.

  “Oh, no, beautiful. Let’s get you to the bed.”

  Oh God.

  I would kill him. I’d tear him apart if he touched me, I already knew it. I’d fight and fight until my own bones broke. There was no way in hell I’d let him humiliate me.

  “There, now,” he soothed, gesturing to the dirty fucking mattress, gun pointed at my head. “See? You have chains here, too.”

  I lowered to the decrepit cot, shaking as he reached for my bare ankle. In seconds, I was chained to the wall near the bed.

  “Are you hungry?” Derrick asked, and I had no idea if his compassion was real. I nodded, keeping my eyes on Keaton. “I’ll go get you some food. Hey. Look at me,” he urged, and as he reached for my head, I reared back and flattened myself against the wall.

  “Don’t fucking touch her,” Keaton said, and I could tell that he was losing his resolve.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you. You made your choices; that was all I asked. We’ll shoot your big love scene tonight. I’ll get you something to eat. Be back soon,” he assured me.

  I watched him leave again, wrapping my arms around my body and turning to Keaton.

  “Do you feel a little better?” he asked. I cringed, hating that I was semi-clean and had the chance to go to the bathroom, while he sat in his own blood and filth.