by Evan Bond
Sasha trembled in front of the man she had spent so much time trying to forget. He forced her to her knees and she considered begging for her life. She couldn't help but think about letting him have his way with her. Maybe it would buy her some time. Maybe he would let her live. She could only assume it was all part of his plan anyway. She was going to die right here.
"It's been you all this time, hasn't it?"
"I told you I would find you if you ever left me. I promised it would be far worse, didn’t I? It worked out far better than I could have ever imagined. These inbred morons accused you of being a witch. I would have settled for murderer but witch? That's too good. They plan to burn you at the stake, you know? I might just hand you over to them. That is, after I'm finished with you."
Sasha should have felt fear. There should have been panic shutting down her will to fight. So many times, she had cowered in the corner while Brent viciously attacked her or had his way with her. Every instance had felt the same. Cowardice paved way for survival. This time, however, was different. Something felt different. There was no fear. There was no panic. All of it had been swept away in a single moment. She wondered if after everything which had happened to her tonight she had finally found a way to plant her feet and become immovable.
"No." She said, looking up at the vile man above her. Brent still clutched her throat but kept a loose grip. "I'm done being afraid of you. I'm done being afraid of everything. It's controlled too much of my life. If I die tonight then so be it. But I won't be dying a coward."
Brent scoffed, clearly amused. He loosened his grip on her throat a little more and reached down at her pants with his free hand. Sasha knew he meant to rip them off and take her here in the woods. She had decided it would not happen.
As the button came undone, her fingers searched the dirt for anything she could use. They slid across the rough and cool surface of a rock the size of a tennis ball. Digging her nails into the Earth, she scooped it free. While he pulled at her zipper, Sasha swung the rock toward his head. He never saw it coming. There was a tremendous crack! as the rock connected with his skull. Brent was sent toppling to the forest floor. For a moment, she thought she had killed him with a single blow.
His head lifted off the ground and extinguished the satisfaction Sasha had felt. A new dent had formed above his temple and blood poured from the wound and into his ear. Still clutching the rock, Sasha pounced on the man and swung it again but was unable to land another blow. He blocked her strike and threw her to the ground.
Brent was on top of her now, prying the rock from her fingers. She did her best to hold it tight but it was no use. The rock was ripped from her grasp and, to her surprise, flung deep into the trees. She had been certain he would have knocked several of her teeth out first.
He slid a finger down the side of his face, drenching it in blood. Before Sasha had time to react, he shoved it into her mouth. She felt his nasty finger against her tongue and on her teeth. He worked it into every corner of her mouth while she tried to pull away. Several times she tried to bite down but Brent kept a firm grasp on her jaw.
The moment his finger was removed from her mouth, she spit directly into his face. This only seemed to make the brute laugh. He wiped away the blood-filled mucus with one finger and clenched her throat again.
"Oh honey, you used to swallow." He bellowed a guttural laugh and began to unzip his pants. The moment had finally come. She was right back where it all started. He would rape her again and she would eventually submit. Her place would be at his feet like a wounded pup and she would lick his heel without question. He would use her and abuse her until he was finished and she would be left for dead in the woods. It was most certainly her fate.
But she refused. Death was fine by her but his rotten member would never enter her again. She would rip it off with her bare hands. Not a chance in hell would he be having his way with her tonight or ever again.
He leaned in closer and she could feel his stiffness against the crotch of her pants. "Just like old ti-" Sasha had pushed her head forward, baring her teeth. Then, she sank them into the soft flesh that was Brent’s nose, like butter. Something crunched between her teeth and Brent screamed in a blind panic. Twisting her head back and forth like a dog with a chew toy, she attempted to rip it from his face. Instead, Brent was able to free himself and push her away. Falling back to the ground, he cupped his hands around his face.
His nose had split open and shreds of flesh hung freely on either side. Blood poured over his lip and dripped off his chin. There were tears in his eyes and he cried out in pain. Sasha knew it would be her only time to strike.
With little regard for her own safety, Sasha snatched up a nearby fallen tree branch and rushed at Brent. As she cracked it over his head, he toppled to the ground. No hesitation. She flung her body on him and struck several more times. Large pieces of the branch broke free and splintered into the darkness. The stick was reduced to a sharpened harpoon. It was like the universe begged her to take his life.
"You don't want to do this, Sasha." He begged for his life but did his best to hide behind his controlling demeanour. "You're not as cold-blooded as you think. The last attempt didn't work because you didn't want it to. Deep down you know you need me in your life. I complete you. Look what happened when you tried to make it on your own. The whole town is trying to kill you."
"Because of you! The whole town is accusing me of some black magic shit because of you!"
"I told you, that wasn't my intention."
"Oh yeah? And what were your intentions?"
"I admit," he mumbled through the blood still pouring over his lips. "My goal was to frame you for murder. At the very least, I wanted them to indirectly blame you for everything. I never thought they'd actually think you were a witch. It was just supposed to make you look crazy. It's incredible, isn't it? Who would have thought there would be puritan level paranoids in this modern age? I mean, shit. I wanted to get you locked up for murder. But burned at the stake? Now, that's poetic justice."
Sasha couldn't listen to any more of his bullshit. He had orchestrated the whole thing to make her look guilty from the start. He wanted to get her imprisoned or killed. Though she hated to admit it, his plan had gone off without a hitch. In fact, it went better than he could have planned. She knew there would be little chance she would survive the night. There was an army of people out there looking for her, even now. It was only a matter of time before she was caught. Maybe the town would come to their senses before they did anything irrational. But she knew better. Fear was like a virus. Once it spread, it was nearly impossible to stop. It took hold of this town and infected nearly everyone. The only cure was her inevitable death.
She looked down at Brent. From this angle, she wondered how she ever found him threatening. She could now see him for what he truly was. A coward of a man. He had always been a coward. Tears rolled down his cheeks, no doubt from the pain of his shredded nose. Blood stained his chin and neck and his chest heaved with the unmistakable spasm of fear.
"Do me a favor," Sasha said. "Stay dead this time, Corey."
“You know I hate that n-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Sasha brought the sharp end of the stick down and into his eye socket. It squished with a sickening sound and blood squirted from the wound. He screamed as Sasha turned the stick in circles, hopefully scrambling his brain. As she pulled the stick from his eye socket, the remainder of the eye came with it. Corey's head fell back and went limp. Unsure if he was alive or dead, Sasha plunged the stick under his chin and left it there. There was no doubt in her mind he was dead. This time, he would stay that way.
A wave of emotion struck her like a runaway bus and she collapsed into the dirt. Tears flooded over her cheeks. The blood on her hands disgusted her and she wanted nothing more than to wash it clean from her body. She would burn them with scalding water if she could stand it. She wished she could scrub her memory as well. Having to murder her husband had been diffi
cult the first time around. Unfortunately, she had to commit the act twice.
As she wallowed in the dirt and cried, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Before she had time to look, she heard a voice cry out "I found the witch! She's killed again!" Sasha cursed as she pulled herself to her feet and bolted into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty-One
With ringing ears and a white-hot pain in her left arm, Tara stared into the darkness slowly encompassing her. Without the headlights, the world was utterly dark. The body of Sheriff Harrison was still pinned to the driver seat in front of her. It was a terrible reality for a girl of only nine to endure and yet it was all too real. She was all alone. The only person who could have helped her was now dead. Desperately, she wished her mother would arrive to pull her free from the car. She knew better, however. This was something she would have to do alone.
Her hands danced around in the dark, looking for the seat belt release. Giving it a press, her heart sank. It didn’t budge. Panic set in and she tried to search for anything that would help set her free, though she had no clue what to do. Tears streamed down her face and she fought back the urge to scream out for her mother.
The man driving her around had been a police officer. Surely, he would have something to cut the belt free. Perhaps a knife? Reaching her hands into the darkness, she felt the seat in front of her. But when she leaned forward the seat belt stayed tight. There was no chance of reaching anything.
The panic hit her harder now. Tears erupted and rolled down her face in rushing waves. Violently, she kicked her legs like it would set her free. She did cry out for her mother, no longer thinking it would be useless. Fear was all she knew now.
After a few minutes, she was able to calm herself and an idea came to mind. What if I squeeze out? she thought. Tara figured she was small enough, it might work. Getting to work, she began to wiggle back and forth, pushing up with her legs. The seat belt was tight against her but she thought she felt it give a little. She tried this several more times before realizing she wasn't moving enough. Her legs were simply too weak to push her free. Tara needed more leverage.
Again, her hands shot around in the darkness for anything she could find. Her hand touched the cool glass next to her head and slid up. It landed on the grab handle and, suddenly, an idea was born. I can use this to pull myself up, she thought.
Tara grabbed the handle and pulled with all of her might, simultaneously pushing up with her legs. This time she moved more than an inch but the seat belt kept her pinned down. She realized pulling straight up would get her nowhere. Instead, she needed to pull at an angle. She put the shoulder strap behind her and tried again. This time, she shifted her body weight forward. It worked. The lap belt had slid from her waist and down to her thighs. There was no going back now.
Wrapping each hand around the headrest in front of her, Tara pulled with all of her might. The lap belt slid even further but seemed to be stuck at her knees. If she let go now, she would tumble to the floor and be stuck with the lap belt tight around her knees. Her arms burned as she gripped the headrest tighter. The lap belt scraped against her legs but she barely noticed. She centered all of her energy with her arms.
Reaching forward to gain more leverage, she bumped the lifeless body of Sheriff Harrison. Realizing she had touched a dead body, Tara nearly let go of the seat. She was crying now. Harrison's body slid forward and landed against the blinker. At first, she only heard the repeating click of the blinker as it flashed through the never-ending darkness. Her mind was so focused on pulling herself free, she didn't notice the figures approaching the truck. When she did, she could only see them in the flashing orange light of the blinker. The strobing blinker made it appear as if the figures weren't actually in motion but merely drifting through the darkness. The effect was eerie and made Tara scream in panic.
She hadn't meant to make a noise. She had wanted to remain still in the hopes the people would walk by. But now they knew she was there and they ran towards the disabled vehicle. In the orange blinking light, Tara thought they looked like a swarm of zombies ready to tear her limb from limb. With the last bit of strength her arms could muster, she pulled the headrest and shimmied her legs back and forth. Finally, they slipped free of the belt. Letting go of the headrest, she fell to the floor. Before she could escape out the side door, however, hands burst in through every open window available. It looked like something out of a nightmare. Hands protruded from the darkness, seemingly with no bodies. She crawled across the back seat to the other door but faces appeared in the window. Tara moved back to her own door but they were there too. She cried as the door was pulled open and she was dragged out into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Her lungs felt like they would collapse at any minute. Sasha had lost her pursuers a while ago but kept running out of pure fear. This night had been the longest in her life and being separated from her daughter had only served to make it worse. She knew she had to leave town, even if she wasn't sure her daughter had made it out with Harrison. Her only problem now, she had no idea which way was which. Taking a random road could lead her right to her captors. She needed a way to gauge direction.
Far off in the distance, she spotted a tall water tower and she remembered Harrison showing it to her the night he drove her around. It seemed like weeks ago. If she could make it to the tower and get a bird's eye view, she might be able to make it out of this godforsaken town.
Trekking down the road, she made sure to stick close to cover in case she needed to hide. But the streets seemed unusually still. Sasha thought she would feel relieved but something told her it was bad news. Regardless, she carried on with her mission.
Surprisingly, she had no trouble getting to the water tower. Carlisle had become a ghost town in a matter of minutes. She shook her head as she gripped the cold steel ladder of the water tower. There was no time to think it over now. One rung at a time, Sasha climbed until she was at the top. The wind howled through her hair and she felt the odd sensation of gravity beckoning her to the ground below.
Trying to get her bearings, Sasha scanned everything she could see. From this height, she could see most of the town. She spotted the smoldering embers which had once been her home, if only for a brief time. She saw the town center, bustling with people. Before she could look away, she noticed something different. In front of the town center they had made a pile of something. If she had to guess, it looked like books and sticks. But that made absolutely no sense. Why would they pile sticks and books in the parking lot? Sasha knew she had to be missing something. She scanned the rest of the town before resting her eyes back on the town center, curiosity flaring.
Then, a rage burned inside of her when she realized something truly terrible. Among the disgusting citizens of Carlisle stood her daughter. They had found her. How? And where was Harrison? Had they found him too? Or maybe they already killed him? Sasha's mind buzzed with questions. She longed for a rifle. From her tower, she would pick off the vile people one by one. Killing almost seemed easier now.
A woman stood before the crowd and pulled Tara close. Sasha's hands involuntarily balled into fists and she pounded them against the railing. A voice came on the wind. Even with the amplification of the sound system, Sasha had to struggle to hear it.
"We...daughter. If you...again...give yourself...or we'll kill her."
The last few words had been eerily clear as if she had screamed them into the microphone. She couldn't be sure but she thought she heard the crowd cheer as she placed the microphone down. Sasha wondered how a whole town could cheer for the murder of an innocent girl. What kind of monsters must they be? Were they really awful or had fear driven them to this point? Sasha decided she didn't care. They were the enemy, plain and simple. She would get her daughter to safety, no matter what.
Sasha wasn't foolish. She knew giving herself up meant losing her life and that of her daughter's. But, seemingly, not giving in to their demands would get Tara killed all the same.
It was a gamble she was not willing to take. But just handing herself over couldn't be her only play. There had to be something.
Desperately, she scanned the ground for anything she could use. She could only hope some sort of plan would formulate in her mind. Then, she saw it. She had to stop an evil grin from spreading across her face like a disease. Staring down at a parking lot, she saw several cars huddled together. It was perfect. Quickly, she began her descent.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carol Leighter once again stood in front of her fellow citizens. The town she had called home was barely recognizable. Not because of the angry mob before her. Not even because of all the deaths. No, she did not recognize her town because it had let this evil become a part of it. Whether this Sasha woman was practicing black magic or not mattered little to her. In fact, she hardly believed it was real. However, she knew she had brought the evil upon this town, one way or another. There had been peace and understanding in Carlisle. Then, the bitch had arrived.
She had taken everything from them. Their innocence, gone. All of their joy, broken. Trust in those who swore to protect them, like Sheriff Harrison, dismantled. In the matter of a few nights, this disgusting woman tore the fabric of their quaint town apart. Carol loathed her for it.
Carol Leighter viewed herself as the savior of Carlisle. And why not? The sheriff had betrayed them and now he was gone. Her goal had been to merely run him out of town but the unlucky bastard had played chicken with a moose and lost. Perfect. The killer of all her fellow townspeople was being brought to justice. No more innocent lives would be lost. If it meant killing the woman and her little child, it would be worth it. After all, what were two lives versus hundreds? Carol would make that trade every time. In her mind, any reasonable person would. To not would be inhumane.