by T. R. Cupak
Armen: Monte can leave. If he doesn’t, I’ll kill her, now.
The picture that appears is of Jordan’s bloody body. She has bruises, whip marks, and gashes all over her body. Armen has a gun to her head.
“Boss, I’ll leave and walk back, so he can’t hear the Rover drive up. I won’t be long. I’ll just be far enough out that he thinks I’m gone. Be careful, Hunter,” Monte says before getting back into the car and drives away, leaving me alone, just as Armen requested.
My phone chimes again.
Armen: Enter through the back door.
Every inch of me knows that going into the house alone is stupidly dangerous, but I have to. Jordan needs me, so I head towards the back of the house, using my cell phone flashlight mode to help guide me through the overgrown shrubbery covering the entire pathway. The back door is ajar, cueing me to enter. Cautiously stepping over the threshold, I enter the rickety old house and I am immediately greeted with a blow to the head, and everything goes black.
Crying, I hear crying; at least I think I hear crying, but who is it? Fuck, why does my head feel like it’s ready to split open. The jolt of electricity that shoots through me snaps my eyes wide open while my body convulses from the shockwave. Armen is within arm’s reach holding a stun gun, but I can’t reach for him. My hands are tied to a rusty old radiator in the corner of the dimly lit room. The only source of light is being supplied by candles and a single lightbulb dangling from the center of the ceiling.
Once the initial shock of the stun gun wears off, my eyes zero-in on the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. The crying I heard moments ago is clearer and coming from the bed. Jordan.
“Precious, we’re here and we’re going to get you out of here, I promise.” My words don’t even sound convincing to me since I don’t know if we will get her out of here.
We… where the fuck is Monte and how did this situation get this far out of control. Two grown ass men should have been able to take down Armen.
“Oh, if you’re wondering about your trusty sidekick, he’s next door, tied to a radiator too. He was just as stupid as you were, entering the house without clearly looking around.” Armen is gloating; he thinks he has us right where he wants us, but knowing Monte, there’s always a backup plan. At least I hope there is.
Armen walks over to the bed, untying only the right side of Jordan’s limbs, and then rolls her onto her side so she’s facing me before he re-ties her hands and ankles to the same posts her left ones are bound to. The sight before me guts me to the core. The picture Armen sent didn’t capture the torture he’s been putting her through. Jordan winces from the natural act of coughing, indicating she’s hurting internally as well.
Struggling to try and pull free from my own imprisonment brings our captor back over to me, shocking me once again with the stun gun. My legs jut out straight and my teeth clench from the electricity.
“Don’t,” Jordan coughs out. “Please, Armen, let Hunter go,” she begs.
“Not a chance, Precious,” he hisses out like a snake. “This is going to be fun,” his sinister laugh echoes off of the rotting walls of our prison.
The jolts of electricity stop when Armen turns his attention back towards Jordan. How in the fuck am I going to get us out of this nightmare? He walks back over to the bed, climbing up behind Jordan. Her blood-stained tears trickle down her battered face.
“You’re going to watch me fuck your whore’s ass. Who knows, you might even get off on it,” Armen says after laying down behind Jordan, keeping his focus on me.
“Close your eyes, Hunter. Please don’t watch,” Jordan’s hoarse voice whispers out.
“If you close your eyes, Hunter, I will shock her too. Do you understand?” Armen threatens.
Jordan cries uncontrollably, knowing I won’t close my eyes if it means I get to keep her from being electrocuted.
FUCK!
Jordan
Armen thrusts his dick into my ass once again, warranting a garbled scream from my raw vocal chords. The pain from his intrusive invasion of my body mixed with the throbbing of my head causes my vision to blur. I want to pass out, but fear of what will happen to Hunter has me fighting to stay conscious.
“You like my cock in your ass, don’t you, Lezleigh? Tell your boyfriend how good it feels,” he commands.
“No.”
Armen’s hand moves from my hip, finding two of the opened wounds on my stomach before demanding my obedience. The pain is excruciating and I’m sure my facial expression is giving away just how badly it hurts otherwise Hunter wouldn’t be encouraging me to comply.
Through clenched teeth I do as I was told; not because Armen demanded it, but because of Hunter’s repeated pleas.
“Oh yeah, I love how your asshole hugs my cock,” Armen huffs out. “That’s it, LJ, give into the pleasure.”
Being as I can barely see out of my right eye, I strain to focus on Hunter, watching him struggle to get free. As much as I hate that he’s here, watching my personal hell, he keeps my concentration solely on him, allowing me to disconnect from the grunting beast behind me.
“Oh yeah, yeah, that’s it. Right thur-arr-grr!” Armen shouts out when he releases his demon seed inside me. “Looks like you’re bleeding a bit,” he says after pulling out and smearing my side with the liquid he’s wiped from his dick. He gets up and leaves the room; assuming he's going to clean himself up like he's been doing after each time he defiles my body.
My body wilts from exhaustion. Fighting the desire to pass out has become increasingly harder to do. I’ve been in this torture chamber for far too long and I don’t have the mental capacity to take anymore abuse.
“Jordan, baby, keep your focus on me,” Hunter’s broken voice breaks through the murky darkness. I focus the best that I can on him; it’s not without difficulty.
“Oh god,” I croak out. “Hunter, you shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have to watch this.” What’s left of my tears slowly trickle from eyes. The salty liquid stings the small cuts on my face and right forearm.
“Precious, we’ll get out of here. You’ll be okay, baby,” he tries to assure me.
“I don’t want to leave here alive, Hunter.” Those words were spoken with the utmost honesty.
“Don’t say that, Jordan. Armen will be the one to leave in a body bag, not you.”
His anger at my last statement breaks my heart. Even if we make it out of this alive, I know for a fact that I don’t want to live. This time there will be physical reminders, along with the mental reminders, of the brutally cruel abuse Armen has inflicted.
Turning my head downward, I try to overcome the shame that has been plaguing my thoughts. I’m a coward; I know that and I only have to accept it for a little while longer. Armen will grow tired eventually, and then, just maybe Monte and Hunter will escape this reality nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hunter
She’s giving up. Jordan is giving up on life—on us. Pulling on my restraints is exhausting me. I’ve been trying to break free since Armen left us alone. My wrists are bleeding from the friction of the rope, but I don’t let it stop me from trying. There’s a faint flash; that’s when something reflects the dancing flame from one of the candles, catching my eye. Turning my body just enough to use my foot to scoot the shiny object towards me, I see that it’s a broken piece of mirror. I lay myself as flat as I can get, and use my knee to get the mirror close enough to grab it with my mouth. Jordan looks like she’s fallen asleep so she isn’t noticing that I may have our way out.
“Precious, hang in there. I’m getting us out of here.”
Her body is limp; scarily lifeless. When I don’t get any response from her, I speed up my attempt to cut myself free. Grabbing the shard of glass with my lips, I accidently cut my tongue on the sharp object while working the glass between my lips, moving it to my teeth. This will allow for a better opportunity at landing our chance at freedom into my hand so I don’t have to repeat the process again;
wasting time we don’t have.
Thankfully, the mirror landed perfectly into my right hand. Without hesitation, I begin working the piece of glass back and forth on the rope. Once I start to make progress cutting through my restraints, I try pulling on them again.
“Just a little more cutting, Jordan, and I’ll be free. Please don’t give up, baby.”
After a couple of minutes the rope finally snaps, freeing me. I stumble a little when I get up. Armen clocked me good on the head when I first entered the house. It’s throwing me off balance, but I fight through the hazy feeling and make my way to the bed. Quickly untying Jordan’s wrists, I catch her before she fell forward onto the floor. She hasn’t made a sound but I do feel her breathing. Now that I have her in my hands, I notice whip marks across her back, thighs, shins, and calves. That fucking monster has marked damn near every part of her body. I rip open my shirt causing the buttons to go flying in different directions, and remove it. I then take off my undershirt and dress Jordan in it. It covers enough of her body for the time being. Once I have her ankles freed I put my shirt back on and head to the door Armen went out. The house is quiet, maybe too quiet.
Where in the fuck did he go? Who cares? I can’t worry about that, so I go back to the bed and cradle Jordan in my arms. Her body is dead weight. She hasn’t whimpered, cried, or anything. It’s scaring the fuck out of me.
I step out of the room from hell and slowly open the door that was beside the one I just came from. Sure enough, Monte was in there, tied to a similar radiator that I was tied to.
“Monte, can you hear me?” I whisper. He doesn’t answer; concern turns to dread when I think I will have to find a way to get both Monte and Jordan out of here on my own. I look around the dark room for something sharp, but I’m not so lucky. Reluctantly I set Jordan down next to Monte so I can go back to the other room and grab the piece of mirror I used to free myself.
Just when I returned to the room that Jordan and Monte were in, the smell of smoke slowly makes it to my nostrils. Fuck, Armen is burning down the fucking house.
“Monte, goddammit, wake the fuck up!” I yell while shaking him. Jordan makes a grunting sound when she falls over, hitting her head on the wall beside her.
Please God, give me the strength to get them out of here.
Leaving Jordan where she was, I begin working on cutting Monte free of his restraints. Using the glass will be faster than trying to figure out the knots. It doesn’t take long to get Monte’s hands freed. I don’t want to do this, but I have to try, so I slap Monte, hard, right across the face, yelling at him to get up. His eyes snap open by the fifth hit. Smoke is beginning to make its way into the room causing both Monte and I to cough. I don’t think Jordan is breathing heavy enough to inhale the smoke just yet.
“Can you stand?” I ask Monte.
“Yeah, I think so,” he coughs out.
I see a small boarded up window in the corner of the room so I start pulling the boards away. Once I get the inside ones removed, I use one of the boards to break what’s left of the glass and begin jabbing at the outer barrier. Monte moves me out of the way and starts punching the boards. After a few solid punches, Monte breaks through the boards, giving us just enough room to get out.
“Jump out, Boss. I’ll hand Jordan to you,” Monte instructs. I climb out of the window and take in as much air as I can. The smoke was heavy inside the house, but at least I see the light at the end of what was going to be a very dark tunnel. Monte hands me Jordan, and then climbs out of the window. He’s bigger than me, so he didn’t escape the window without a piece of glass cutting into his side.
Before we can make our way to the front of the house Monte and I hear muffled yelling.
“Wait here, Boss.” I stay put, holding Jordan as tight as I can. The back part of the house is engulfed in flames and I don’t know how much longer I can stand here before the flames merge closer.
There’s more muffled voices, one being Monte’s. After a minute, he reappears telling me it’s his trusted “acquaintance” and two of his men. When I round the corner, I see Armen kneeling on the ground with three shot guns pointed at his head.
“Hold Jordan, Monte,” I tell him, handing her over to him.
“Go ahead and kill me, Hunter. The damage is done. I’ve made sure to taint every part of your Precious. Do you really think she will ever trust a man ever again?” Armen’s tone is filled with a devilish arrogance. The snide smile on his face has me snatching one of the shot guns from Monte’s small cavalry. Taking the butt of the shot gun, I slam it into Armen’s face. His wicked laugh that erupts after spitting blood and a few teeth out encourages me to smash his face again.
“I hope I got that bitch pregnant with my demon spawn,” he chuckles out.
Those will be the last words that sadistic son of bitch ever says.
“Rot in hell, motherfucker,” I grit out before taking two steps back and pull the trigger; watching Armen’s brains blow out of the back of his head. His body drops to the ground, ending the nightmare he’s created.
We hear sirens in the distance so Monte’s backup gives us a nod, leaving us to explain what happened. This wasn’t their fight, but I sure am glad they were here.
“Boss, I’m sorry they didn’t get here sooner.” Monte has guilt written all over his face.
“They got here and stopped that pile of rotting shit from leaving, that’s all that matters,” I tell him. I don’t know what else I can say to him. He’s going to beat himself up for months, if not years.
We walk a few feet away from Armen’s dead body and take a seat on the ground, waiting for the first responders to arrive. God, I hope one of those sirens is an ambulance.
“Give me the gun,” Monte instructs. He begins to wipe down the gun with his shirt. Once it’s wiped, he then puts his finger prints on all the key parts of the gun.
“What are you doing?” I had to ask.
“I shot Armen, not you.”
“What? Why not tell them what really happened?” To say I am confused is an understatement.
“Don’t argue, Boss. Just let me handle the gun portion.”
“Whatever,” I concede. My main concern now is Jordan.
Monte has Jordan’s lower half of her body while I’m supporting the top half. We didn’t want any part of her lying on the ground since she has so many open wounds.
“It’s over, Precious. We’re safe. Please wake up, baby.” I start rocking her back and forth, holding her tightly in my embrace.
The fire truck is the first to make it down the dirt driveway followed by two patrol cars, and an ambulance.
Thank god for the ambulance.
Hunter
Questioning took hours; which during that time, all I could think about was Jordan lying alone in a hospital bed. I didn’t want her to wake up alone, but I had no choice. Even though Monte and I didn’t have very much time to collaborate our stories, everything we told the police was in sync and true, aside from who shot Armen. Monte admitted to shooting him out of self-defense, which wasn’t farfetched considering Jordan’s condition. Luckily, the police didn’t check either of us for gun residue. That would have given away who really shot Armen, and then the rest of our story wouldn’t have been viable information.
After we were released, Monte and I went straight to the hospital. Jordan was being kept in I.C.U. At first the nurse didn’t want to give us any updates, so I had to convince her I was Jordan’s fiancé and Monte was my uncle. Fifteen minutes later the doctor came out to talk to us.
She said that we saved Jordan’s life. If she didn’t arrive at the hospital when she did, she would have died in that house, and not because of the fire. The doctor went on to explain that Jordan required over three hundred and fifty stitches and a blood transfusion. She also stated that Jordan had five broken ribs, internal bleeding that they were able to stop, as well as extensive anal and vaginal tearing. She said that in the twenty-six years of practicing medicine, she’s never seen any
thing like what Jordan’s body was put through.
“She’s lucky to be alive, gentlemen, and she has you both to thank for that. Miss Smith, will need you both more than ever. She has a long road to recovery.”
“Thank you, Doctor. We’ll be sure she has anything and everything she will need for her recovery.”
The doctor smiles and leaves Monte and I in Jordan’s room.
“Fuck, Boss. Jordan’s going to be a mental case when she comes to.”
“I know. All we can do is be here for her. That is, if she even lets us.” I can’t help the dreaded feeling that she won’t want anything to do with us; at least not right of way.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jordan
Waking up in the hospital wasn’t something I expected. I wanted to die in the house of horror; not be rescued and brought here, where I get to relive what happened over and over again.
When I finally came to, Hunter was sitting in a chair, sleeping with his head on my bed, holding my hand. My stomach lurched when the memories of what he had to witness came flooding back to me. I rolled away from him, my vomit spewing all over the hospital room floor. Shame trumped the pain from my internal injuries. I told him to leave, and that I didn’t want to see him ever again, but in true Hunter fashion, he wouldn’t listen. That’s when I went full crazy; cursing him, yelling that I hated him and that I wished I was dead instead of stuck in this godforsaken hell hole. Two orderlies followed by the doctor came rushing in; while the orderlies held me down, the doctor quickly injected me with a low dose tranquilizer.
Shortly after the injection I finally calmed down, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The wracking of my body from crying was causing the pain from my broken ribs to become unbearable. My doctor then added a morphine drip to my IV to help ease some of the physical pain. Because I am an addict, this was the best and worst thing for me.