Brian held his stand on the floor, with arms crossed in front of his chest, peering down at Andy with great interest. With malicious content he simply shook his head, turned away, and walked back to what he started on the table.
“Well, I told you so...” Was the last thing he said before his cock plunged painfully into her ass.
Chapter 6
There was nothing. No sound, except his own breathing whistling in and out through his lips down into his lungs. Concentrating hard on the throbbing pain in his thigh. The pain of the blade going through layer after layer, muscle after muscle. Perhaps even into his bone. He wasn't quite sure. The only thing he had ever had stabbing him was a pocket knife, which was nothing compare to this level of painful sensation.
There was only quietness surrounding him. No screams, no yelling, no sound of hands slapping flesh, no cries for release, no shoving of furniture or struggle. Nothing. She was not there with him anymore. Realization twanged his heart as a sharp arrow.
His eyes now blinded by dark fabric, his body still bound to the chair by zip ties and ropes, and the pain from the knife left in his left thigh, he knew she must have been taken away. Unless... unless she was dead and was laying somewhere in the house where he couldn't see or hear her. The second thought raised an unbelievable panic within him, and although the knife was not letting his muscles work properly, he knew he needed to try his damnedest to get the hell away from the chair and find her. Maybe tilt it, making it fall into something else that could help cut him loose, or at least move it from the position he was in.
Something, just anything, to ease the complete terror of what might have happened to Danielle, or at least what his mind was imagining seeing when he would eventually open is eyes and look around.
Pushing away with the heels of his black dress shoes against the floor, the chair made a small move. Unfortunately only to joust backwards into the wall. His pain and struggle for nothing.
“Hmm....”
His ears shot into attentive alertness at the low sound rupturing the eerie silence of the house. Was that only his vivid imagination playing tricks on him, or perhaps even something from the outside?
“Please let it be her, please.”
“Hmmm...”
There it was again! He actually heard it this time. It was real, and he made a mental remark it was coming from inside the house. The realization produced an enormous rush of energy, and with the help of sweat beads pearling on his wrist, making the skin soft and slippery, he was able to slip one hand painfully backwards through the right zip tie. No longer was his hand fixed at the armrest of the chair. With one hand free he quickly ripped of his blind fold that covered his eyes securely, to instantly look around the room trying to see any sign of where the sound could have possibly come from.
The room was left deserted except for some disgusting and well used rubber gloves covered in streaks of blood on the floor next to the dining room table. The white table cloth hanged slightly off the left side of the table, a dining room chair flipped on its end, and bending his head looking down at himself he saw the carving knife sticking out of his left thigh. Even so, it didn't bother him as much as the avid silence of the house.
From all the sounds that were heard that evening, that filled the dead space of the room and his ears, made him almost forget about his own pain and the knife planted in him. Brian had quickly inserted it in his absurd moment of complete rage as Andy refuse to calm down. How could he have? He had to watch his wife being raped on the table in front of him.
Now there was no other way than to somehow pull the knife out of his leg and get the hell away from this misery of pain to find Danielle.
“You just need to pull it out so you can use it to cut yourself lose. Just do it.”
The thoughts kept repeating themselves in his head, but his hand kept going back and forth hovering over the knife handle poking out of his leg. He wanted to pull it out so badly, yet his muscled screamed no from the anticipated pain that would follow.
“Mmmmmmm...”
Pure terror hit him over again as he knew the muffled sound couldn't come from anyone else but Danielle. With wide eyes staring down at his own leg he saw his hand, as if detached from his own body, grip the handle and pull the knife straight up and out of his leg and land on his lap. The pain was almost unimaginable and for a few seconds, or minutes, he passed out. Cold darkness succumbed his surroundings and he was gone.
With a cold sweat covering the skin of his face, he came back to reality with a shiver. His head leaned into the back of the chair, not knowing how long he had been unconscious. He knew he had to keep going, no turning back or hesitation now. Using the same knife that was just inside his leg, he moved his hand with an unsteady grip up to his own neck, pushing the red spotted blade carefully between the thin skin of his throat and the zip tie.
The thick plastic came off in two pieces with a snap, hanging lose in front of him on his upper chest. The remaining ties on his arms and legs came off just as easy, and with the graphic imagination and fear of the unknown waiting for him, he pushed himself up and forward away from his seated position. But after taking only one hard step with his left foot he grabbed at the corner of the table with a stumble to stop his approaching fall. With his face twisted up in pain he made himself pull up from his hanging position, grabbing at the table with both his hands. Then he yelled.
“Where are you babe? Please let me know you're okay?”
No response. Pulled up and leaning more on his right leg than his left, he limped out of the dining room, grabbing hold of chairs and walls on the way out, in an attempt to find the source of the sounds he heard earlier.
The paleness of bare skin thread through the shades of the living room and met his eyes. Her naked back and bowed head leaning against the side of the open fire place.
“Oh my god baby, are you alive? Talk to me!”
His stumbling steps went quickly across the floor of the room. There she was. Stripped naked, bent slightly forward, as if in a praying position. Her right shoulder leaned hard against the cold rocks that covered the side of the fire place. This was all so out of place. It looked unreal.
“Baby look at me. Look at me!”
He wasn't sure why his voice was yelling at her. Panic must have created this shouting monster inside him. He leaned into her, gently lifting her head to face him. Her eyes were closed, but he noticed she was still breathing slowly and quietly. Just enough breath to move the strands of blonde hair covering her face and her neck.
“Oh, baby you're alive. I love you. I love you. I love you. We have to get you off the floor and put you on the couch, wrap you up, you're freezing cold, and... and ... call an ambulance... or something. You'll be alright, babe. I'll make sure you'll be alright.” He added reassuringly, rubbing her upper arms and shoulders.
“Please move your hands from the floor and place them on my shoulders. I'll move us over to the couch.”
When her only response came out as low and muffled moans escaping her mouth he told her again.
“Move your hands onto me babe, try to lift them off the floor and hug my neck, or just grab onto my shirt.”
Once again her hands simply stayed in their place, her body unresponsive. This could take forever, he though, they needed to get her warm and to a hospital as soon as possible. Enough waiting her out, he thought again, and grabbed her hands in the attempt to put them onto her lap so he could scoop her up, getting away from the hard floor.
“Why are they stuck, babe?! Shit they're stuck. They're fucking stuck to the floor! What the fuck!”
A screeching sound escaped her lungs and cut through the room. As if telling him not to touch her. Her face displayed both pain and pleading to leave her alone. “How could someone have the desire to put someone through this much pain?” He thought. “Where is the pleasure in harming someone else to this point?”
Leaning her gently against the fireplace he quickly made his way into the garage to gr
ab a flashlight from one of the drawers of tools. On the way back into the living room, he pulled off one of the blankets from the back of the couch to cover her naked skin and shivering body where she was sitting. She's wasn't making a single sound, not even a sob. The only sign was how her lower lip was trembling in the same pace as her body shivered. Breathing and moaning.
With flashlight in hand he was soon to discover the reason behind her immobilized hands. A cold chill went up from the bottom of his spine when he saw her hands in the beam of light. He immediately recognized the shiny knob sticking out on top of both her layered hands. He couldn't have been more right; it was the head of the metallic nails belonging to the nail gun they were using outside of the house to build the redwood deck, holding up the thick wooden beams underneath the floor boards. Those redwood beams were no thin pieces of wood, neither were the nails used in the gun to hold them in place. And here was one of them going right through Danielle's hands and into the wooden floor beneath them.
“Fucking shit! Alright babe, I have to get the fucking crowbar from the garage. Just... just... I'll be right back.”
His voice rushed angrily through the air as he suddenly rose to steady himself on his hurting limb, only to head back to the garage to grab the tool off the wall by the water heater.
She was shuddering from pain to the point of nearly passing out when he came back to her. No time to waste. He figured with her being close to unconsciousness this was the only time to just rip that large nail out of the floor and through her hands. Now or never. ”One, two, three...” He counted silently before giving Danielle a swift side glance, stood up on his legs with his back bent down and pulled up with all his might, moving the nail out of its place. He heard it land somewhere with a clinking sound next to his feet. In an instance Danielle fell backwards against the floor, landing with a slight thud, her head bouncing somewhat against the hard surface, giving away the slightest moan.
Throwing the crowbar aside Andy fell instantly to his knees next to her, trying to catch her in the fall but without luck. She was still breathing, that was good, but her eyes were still closed. He gently scooped her up in his arms and placed her gently down to rest on the couch, pulling the blanket snug around her naked body. Examining her hands, he noticed the shock from the pain she must have felt having the large nail pulled out of them, and the fact that she passed out from it, made the two holes in her hands clean, pale, and not bleeding. “Her body must be fighting other internal battles, cutting of the blood circulation to her hands.” He thought.
However, the size of the wounds going through those delicate, female hands of hers, were almost big enough to look through if being put up in midair. They would most definitely start a large flood of pulsing blood the moment she retained conscience. The only thing that instantly came to his mind was using their guest towels and silver tape to stop the coming outburst, and there was no time to lose.
Chapter 7
Tiredness. Only tiredness. Where does the smell come from? What are those sounds?
“Hey baby, I'm here.”
A light whisper parted the restful fog that surrounded her for what felt like forever. Someone was softly rubbing a thumb back and forth over the top surface of her fingers.
“God I've missed you. I'm so glad you're awake. I'm going to get a nurse and let them know you're awake. I'll be right back. I love you... I love you.”
With a kiss on the hand his touch was gone as quickly as it started. Opening her eyes slowly, blinking at the light from a single dim corner lamp in the room, she tried to take in the surroundings, figuring out where she was, and what had happened. When she looked down towards her chest and the hand Andy had just stroked, she noticed the IV wrapped tightly in white gauze, just to disappear off the corner of the bed. Over to her right were more white gauze, making her look like she had just gone the best round of boxing in her life and these were the wounds to pay for it.
Suddenly the wide door to the room swung open, bringing both Andy and a female nurse in his tracks back into the room to stand by her side. He looked so serene and happy standing right next to her at the bedside, the bruises on his face aside.
“Hi baby, how are you feeling?” His hand smoothed the skin on her arm. “You're at the hospital and they've done some surgery on your hands from the wounds you received from the nail gun...”
She nodded slowly, facing him, but was too tired to go into any discussions about her condition. She was safe and she was alive. That was all that mattered. Although some food wouldn't be too shabby instead of the fluid going into her body.
Then she remembered it. Some pieces more clearly than others. From being pushed onto the table, raped in front of Andy, his panic shot eyes, the few slaps and disgusting licks to her face when she wouldn't follow Brian's directions, and the first person view of her hands being nailed to the living room floor. Then she remembered Andy sitting in the chair and the knife that was stabbed in his thigh.
“How are you?” She suddenly croaked as if she hadn't spoken in weeks, trying to move herself further up in the bed into a more sitting position.
“Oh me? I'm good babe. Pain killers, stitches and no exercising until the muscles in my thigh are healed, but really, on the whole I'm okay. I've just been so worried about you... everything I saw.”
He talked softer and lower, his voice for her ears only. “Everything he did to you... and what you looked like laying on that table, and what you look like now.”
She didn't know what he meant by now. As a matter of fact, she was feeling pretty relieved and good about herself being in a safe spot, in a soft bed covered with a blanket, in Andy's company.
“What do you mean?” she croaked again. “Was she going to talk like this forever?”
“I actually feel fine at the moment.” Her voice a bit steadier. Sure of herself.
“Maam,” Her head spun around to the nurse at her side. She already forgot they weren't alone in the room. “That is just because the Morphine is doing its job very well, numbing your nerve synapses as it should. It's all good. You just need to rest for a while to make sure the wounds heal, both on the inside and outside. Everything is looking well, and you'll be home sooner than you'll know it,” the young nurse said with a light and caring voice, patting her shoulder softly, just like a mother would do a child trying to turn bad news into something good. With papers under her arm and an empty IV bag, she left the room with a hint of a blush and a smile to Andy.
“Really... she flirts here?” Danielle managed to spit out before coughing loudly.
“What's not to like babe? Who could say no to this purple, beat-up face? It's just my pure beauty shining through. Hard to resist. You know how it is.” With a smile, he stroked his hand over his five-o'clock shadow covering his face, and hitched up one eyebrow. “Isn't the color nice? It could match that purple lace bra you have at home.”
This was why she loved him. Even though the world fell apart at her feet and she felt like utter shit, he held the amazing ability to still make her laugh.
“Anyway, stud. Your comment about my face got me pretty intrigued. What do I look like now? Do I match my purple underwear too?”
That wiped his smile right of his face and down the drain. He slowly got up, steadied himself on his one good leg, and went to look around in the bathroom for a small mirror.
“Okay... babe, you are hurt pretty badly, I saw it firsthand. If you want to I'll hold the mirror in front of you and you can see for yourself... but only if you want to.”
She could practically hear her own heart beat playing a rock solo on her eardrums and panic spread with a pounding speed through her veins.
“Now you have to show me!” She practically shouted. “I don't even remember being hit that hard in the face... and I thought I knew everything that happened. Some of those memories are quite vivid. Hold it up, now.” She demanded, her voice back in full force.
“Okay, here goes.” He replied and moved closer to her, sitting down o
n the side of her bed.
“Oh my God!” She thought. “When the hell did this even happen?” Without the ability to use her hands to touch her face, she turned her head in all directions and angels in front of the mirror to see every possible bruise and patched up piece of skin; one stitched up swollen eyebrow, one black and swollen eye, several stitches went over her upper lip and nose.
“It really did look like a round in the boxing ring.” Tilting her head to her right, there was more white gauze and medical tape covering her ear, muffling the sounds around her. She just stared back at Andy who was watching her intensely, holding the mirror steady in his hand. She shook her head as if she didn't understand how any of this happened.
She was so focused on the sexual part of the violence, that she didn't even recall any blows to her face or head. Slaps sure, but these bruises seemed to come from actual fist punches. No one would get a black eye from a slap. Actually, she didn't recall Brian doing anything else to her body, except her vagina, and ass, really. That's where the soreness was located and it embarrassed her. As if being able to read her mind and seeing all the wheels turn in high speed under her blonde hair Andy answered.
“Yeah, that's what it looks like babe. The bandage on your ear covers stitches to your earlobe where he pulled out an earring without taking off the back piece first. It tore apart your lower lobe into two pieces. Ironically I found the earring on the living room floor next to the mantle where you were sitting, and it happened to be the earring I gave you on our first Valentine's Day together. The silver heart with red, blue, and white stones in it. I'm guessing my nationality isn't one of his favorites.” A small smile crept up on his face, and it always seemed to melt her right on the spot.
“He's nuts, you know that right? I told you he was when we started dating. I knew this day would come somehow. You're hurt, and I'm... well, I know he wouldn't kill me, he's always been more into the torture and guilt trip thing. If you hadn't met me, if we hadn't started dating, you never would have been dragged into this shit hole.” Her voice ragged, looking away from the hand mirror, focusing on the wall by the door. “Perhaps that stupid, hot looking nurse would come in soon again, making sexy faces at Andy. Why didn't he just go live with her, away from all this shit? Away from her would probably be best for him.”
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