by Leanne Wood
“Dead.”
“Dead…? You killed them?”
“I had to. Listen to me. You have to get this into your head. They were going to kill you.”
Reality hit hard. Kill me…? Darkness crept into the edge of her vision… then her world went black.
***
Bridget went limp in Daniel’s arms and he carefully lowered her to the floor. He hurried to the lounge and snatched a cushion to place beneath her head. Kneeling by her side, he stroked her hair. She was precious. It was his duty to protect her from harm. He loved her.
Daniel remained by Bridget’s side until she began to stir. He smiled when she rubbed her eyes, then smiled wider when she reached for him.
“What happened?” her voice was hazy.
“I think you fainted.”
“I must have. I remember feeling dizzy. I was in your arms and the world began to spin. It was so strange. I could hear you, but not hear you at the same time. You sounded as if you were talking under the water.” A sigh escaped her. “Tiny black dots appeared in my eyes, like little wandering bugs. I could feel you but then everything began to fade. Like I was sinking. I don’t know what happened after that. My world turned black.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry. I’m here now.”
Bridget nodded and smiled.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
U
pstairs was quiet. Pierre had finally given up screaming. His aching body trembled, as hope faded into the darkness of his surrounds. Unbeknown to him, the lifeless bodies of his mates lay in the corner of the next room. Daniel had dealt with Samuel Easton and Arthur Fuller prior to Bridget’s unexpected arrival. He had laid squares of black plastic on the floor forming large diamonds then wrapped each man up, delivering a few kicks as he went. Finally, he secured the packages with heavy-duty tape. It was vital they be completely concealed to prevent the escaping smell of rotting flesh. He couldn’t afford to have the rancid stench of death linger within his cabin. He stood back and admired his handy work. He chuckled, as he realised how they resembled oversized spring rolls… that contained blood, bloating flesh and decomposing internal organs. He smiled. He felt no pity. No guilt. And absent were feelings of remorse. He did what he had to do to protect the woman he loved. It was kill them or they would kill her. Besides, they were evil apes who had inflicted pain. They deserved to die.
Daniel was meticulous. His mother had been a fastidious clean freak, obsessed with scrubbing and disinfectant. She had taught her son well. He had dismantled the torture contraptions he had made, and removed them from his cabin piece by piece. He stripped the plastic linings that had covered the walls and floors, and all these things he’d burned. Any trace of evidence melted, crackled and disappeared within the flames of an old rusty drum. The rooms had been rigorously cleaned, and he’d drenched his chainsaw in bleach. Besides their securely-packaged bodies, there was no trace of them having ever been there. He would dispose of the packages later.
Daniel’s parents had been killed in a car accident when he was twenty-one, and he had no living relatives. The only person he had was Bridget, and he would do anything to protect her. He gently stroked her hair. He needed her to feel safe. He lay with her on the floor; he knew she was still in a state of shock, but he would always be there for her.
***
Bridget gazed into Daniel’s eyes. No one had ever illustrated their love to the extent, he had. He had listened to her words, her fear. He’d heard her desperate pleas and had acted to protect. Zack was a wimp in comparison. She was glad he was no longer in her life. Zack had failed in demonstrating his love and devotion. But now… it felt wonderful to be loved. She turned and smiled at Daniel. He made her feel all warm and fuzzy. She slowly eased herself closer to his body and gently kissed him. He seemed to melt at her touch. He groaned as her hands wandered from his knees towards his groin. She knew he wanted her. She wanted him too. He had proven his love by ridding her of Samuel Easton and Arthur Fuller. He was her protector. The thought of killing Pierre Rainer together excited her. But first, she wanted to confront the arsehole who had ruined her life. She wanted to stare him in the face. She needed to tell him what she felt. Inflicting fear and pain would be pleasurable. Watching his last breath would be exhilarating.
Daniel looked towards her when she stopped her hand moving further up his leg.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, but I need to see him.”
“What? Why?” He stopped and gave her a half smile. He knew confronting Pierre would assist in closure and after closure she would be able to move forward.
“I just need to. I need him to see my face. I need to look him in the eyes. He needs to see me. I want him to know that I am no longer his victim.”
Daniel nodded. He helped her to her feet then hugged her.
“Can I ask you a question before you go?” he said.
“Of course you can,” she said with a smile.
“What did you do when you came upstairs earlier?”
She frowned. “Earlier? I didn’t come up. I only just arrived and came right up. I was looking for you. I missed you when I was away. I wanted to apologise for turning off my mobile. I wanted to tell you—”
“Oh shit!”
“What’s wrong?” Bridget said, panic starting to set in when she saw his eyes widen.
“Yes, yes I’m okay. I just thought of something. You go and do what you need to do. I’ll be up soon.”
He kissed her cheek and gave her a smile as she started up the stairs.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
B
ridget’s determined stride slowed as she approached the door. She began to feel sick. The thought of confronting Pierre had been much easier when she was downstairs with Daniel. Alone, her nerves began to take control. Her stomach began to churn. She swallowed hard. Her heart raced, and she leaned against the wall for support. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Dammit, no person should cause her so much grief. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she willed herself forward. I need to do this. She was standing on the precipice of change. To move forward, she would have to release the past. Pierre Rainer terrified her. Pierre Rainer would not stop her any more. Bridget was strong and she was fearless.
She stepped forward.
The room was darker than she remembered. Standing in the doorway she allowed her eyes to adjust. Pierre’s ragged breath filled the room. Sweat poured down her body as dread crept up from the pit of her stomach. One step at a time, Bridget.
“Who’s there?” Pierre whimpered.
Bridget hesitated and glanced towards the door. She remained silent. Hearing his voice had bile burn the back of her throat. The thought of turning around and leaving the room crossed her mind, but she closed her eyes and grappled with the notion. Her anxiety peaked. Not going to pass out, not going to pass out. Fear demanded she retreat, and for years she had listened to that terrible voice, but it had stopped her living. Fear stripped her of her power and destroyed her destiny. It was time to fight back. Enough was enough. She took a deep breath and another step. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her hands. Her fear would control her no more.
She peered down into the box and gasped. Pierre was near unrecognisable. His entire body had been immobilised. Blood seeped from a large metal cap that encased his head, and dried blood covered his battered face. One eye was purple-black and swollen shut. Dirt crusted his face that was also littered with scratches. His nose was broken and bloodied. His lips dry and cracked. Bruising, blood and scratches were visible on the skin she could see. His clothes were dirty and torn, and his left knee was heavily bandaged. Wrists and ankles shackled, he looked as if he had been dragged from a battlefield. But there would be no saving Pierre, no quick and painless death for him.
Their eyes met, but she refused to look away. Time held no meaning.
Finally, he blinked.
“You,” he wheezed, as a tear slipped from his eye. �
��You stopped my attacker.”
Bridget nodded. Pierre began to cry.
“Are you going to let me go?” he asked.
Bridget shook her head then shrugged, battling to maintain her composure.
“I want to talk to you. If you give me the answers I am after, I may let you go.”
Pierre swallowed hard. It was clear he didn’t like being submissive. Hate shone from his eyes when he looked at her, but he nodded just the same. Bridget leant closer. The clock was ticking. It was only a matter of time before Daniel returned, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to discover her secret.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
B
ridget stared into Pierre’s one open eye, forcing herself to ignore the haunting memories. She took and deep breath then began.
“I want you to imagine something,” she said. “You enter a room and close the door behind you. Then you close the blinds. You turn out the lights. You shut your eyes.” She paused and looked down at Pierre, who was glaring at her with pure hate.
“Do it,” she snapped. “Amuse me. Imagine what I’ve just said.”
Pierre closed his eyes.
“Don’t peek. You are in complete darkness. Now imagine raising your arms with your fingers pointing outwards. Imagine turning yourself around while counting to one hundred. You stop. You keep your eyes closed. You attempt to walk to the door. Can you imagine it? Could you do it? Would you be left with a feeling of overwhelming confusion? Would you feel lost?” she whispered.
Pierre began to tremble. He opened his eyes, and struggled to nod. With his head securely restrained, it was a slight movement. “Probably,” he sobbed.
Bridget felt heat rise to her cheeks and she glared at him. He was only telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. Manipulative bastard. Anger stirred from within, and she could hear the hatred in the huff of his breath. But she would not look away. The power was hers now. Rage hit like a tsunami and she spat in his face. Pierre flinched. Bridget recalled how he had spat in her face. How he had threatened and terrorised her. Oh how the tables have turned.
“Imagine that is how I felt daily because of you, you bastard! What did I ever do to deserve what you did to me? You couldn’t stop at the harassment. You weren’t satisfied with the bullying. You made me feel worthless and unclean. You stripped me of my pride, my security and my trust. You and those other bullying bastards shattered my faith in humanity. I want to know why,” she spat again, as tears streamed down her face.
Pierre remained close-lipped. His silence infuriated her. In an instant, she launched a punch, releasing her rage. His teeth shattered, and pain enveloped her hand, but it felt good.
“Tell me why, you piece of shit! You low life egotistical, narcissistic dickweed. I want to know why,” she screamed. “You fucken bastard from hell, tell me why! Why did you do it? You fucken raped me? I want to know why, why did you fucken rape me?” she screamed hysterically. It was as if a knife had been plunged into her chest. Her heart ripped out and cut in two. Tears poured from her eyes. She gulped for breath. She clung to the box in which Pierre was trapped. She began to violently shake the box. The wood creaked. The metal bindings rattled. Fear took root in Pierre eyes, but he clamped his lips shut, refusing to answer.
***
Daniel burst into the room, he had been standing near the door and heard everything Bridget had said. Her words had cut deep. “He … What did he do?” he roared as he charged forward.
He pushed past Bridget and lunged towards Pierre. His fist smashed into Pierre’s nose; cartilage crunched. Fresh blood exploded from Pierre’s nostrils as the man screamed, but Daniel’s blows were unrelenting.
Bridget stood paralysed by fear. She had not wanted Daniel to hear. No one knew the extent of Pierre’s behaviour. She had been too ashamed to tell. Overwhelmed she collapsed to the floor. It was the first time she had admitted what he had done. Pierre wailed as Daniel slammed his fist again and again and again into the monster before him. He could hear Bridget howling, and from the corner of his eye saw her rocking on the floor.
***
Pierre was trapped in the realisation that his attacker was still alive and well. It was his attacker who posed a greater threat. Bridget Tilner was weak. She was a snivelling mess. Pierre believed she could be manipulated. There was still a chance. She had let him go before. He hoped beyond hope, she would again. She needed to know he would never do any wrong. He needed to sound sincere. He would express great remorse. Ask for forgiveness. Promise to make amends.
***
“I am so sorry,” Bridget sobbed. “I should have told you.” On all fours she reached for him. “I told you evil exists, Daniel. It lives and breathes and mingles amongst us. I told you to believe otherwise would be foolish. I told you didn’t I?”
When Daniel looked at her, his heart broke. He smashed his fist into Pierre’s face once more then went to her, lifting her from the floor and holding her close. She fell against his chest, shaking and sobbing. “You’re safe now,” he said quietly, as he stroked her hair. “Okay Bridget, you’re safe. He’s never going to hurt you again.”
Pierre whimpered from within the confines of the box. He could hide no more. His time was running out. “Please, I’m sorry… Please forgive me,” he cried.
Bridget freed herself from Daniel’s arms and crawled to the box. Daniel watched as Pierre stared towards her with mournful eyes. “I promise you I will never hurt another soul, I promise…”
“You promise today. You promise me because you have nowhere to run. You cannot hide. But what about tomorrow and the next day? What happens if you’re free? A leopard never changes its spots. You’ll never change. I can’t trust you. I won’t trust you. You’re a monster.”
“You can trust me,” Pierre begged, and Daniel scoffed. “You have my word,” the monster sobbed.
Bridget shook her head as she stared into his evil eyes. Daniel remained silent, he could see the repulsion in her eyes, he knew she would not back down. There would be no pity. There would be no guilt. “You gave me your word before. You said you would stay away. Now I hear you planned to kill me. I can’t risk it. I won’t,” she spat, and turned towards Daniel. “Kill him!” she ordered. “Make him suffer for what he did to me.”
Daniel nodded and smiled, he could feel the warmth of Pierre’s panting breath.
Pierre screamed.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
B
ridget clenched her hands into fists, as she walked away. She was sick of hearing his screaming. She went to the corner of the room and sat on the wooden chair. She glared in the direction of the box. The sidewalls hid Pierre, and she was glad. She didn’t want to see him. She’d said all she needed to say. He held no power. He was no longer a threat. And he would hurt no one else.
Daniel stood next to the box and smiled at Bridget. He stepped forward, winked then nodded. Bridget dropped her head and held her face within her trembling hands. Elbows resting on her knees, her body began to shake.
Daniel could tell she was hurting. She had instructed him to kill Pierre, but he could see she was having a difficult time. He was annoyed she had turned up at his cabin. She was never supposed to be there. She was never supposed to find out what happened. His silence would protect her. He knew she needed space. She needed time to get her head around what was happening. As much as Daniel wanted Pierre dead, he did not want to make Bridget feel trapped by his actions. He had to be patient.
Bridget grappled with the notion of murder. It didn’t matter who killed Pierre. She was there. Daniel was there. She was involved. Either way, both would be guilty. She stood and began to pace the room.
Did those responsible realise the pain they had inflicted? Did they care if they had destroyed a person’s life? Did they think twice about the consequences of their actions and consider their behaviour had created a ripple effect from which many lives had been adversely affected? No, so why should I care abo
ut them… What goes around comes around. He deserves nothing more than a slow and agonising death.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said.
Daniel nodded. Bridget strode into the hallway and gulped cool, fresh air. She lurched towards the bathroom. She needed to think.
Sitting on the toilet seat, she began to weep. Head in hands she sucked in a deep breath then ran her fingers through her hair. She had to pull herself together. She stood, shook her hands in an attempt to release her tension, shrugged her shoulders, stretched, then sat back down. The coolness of the cistern felt good against her back, and she focused on her breathing. While she appeared to be in an inescapable mess nothing was impossible. She’d been to hell and back; had faulted and stumbled, but she had never given up.
She closed her eyes and assessed her feelings. Why was she battling with the thought of killing? Pierre Rainer had destroyed her life. He had threatened to kill her. She had dreamt about the day her life would be rid of him. And now, she held all the power. His life was in her hands. It was simple. She would have to decide if she would be able to live with her actions? Did Pierre Rainer deserve to die? She knew he did not deserve a painless death. He needed to suffer. He had haunted her for years. When she closed her eyes she saw him. The wind carried his voice. Loud banging and crashing reminded her of his threatening tirades. He was filth. Lower than a maggot. He was an oxygen thief.
Closing her eyes she was hit with the vision of Pierre and how he had appeared within the box. His skin was punished and dry. He was dirty. She knew what he required. He required cleansing. She could boil a jug of water. She could deliver the crucial cleansing. She would rip away his clothes. Strip him of his dignity. Pour boiling water over his private parts. She would ignore his bellowing pleas to stop, just as he had ignored her pleas. And when she was done, she would walk off as if nothing had happened. Pierre would be scarred for life. Or maybe she could remove the guilty party. One strong hand. One tight grip. One fast tug. One forceful swipe. The offending party would be sliced off and thrown away. Bridget could feed it to the fire ants. She was sure fire ants loved fresh meat. She had seen a large dome-shaped mounded nest in an open area to the rear of Daniel’s cabin. Or maybe they could drag Pierre kicking and screaming to the nest. They could stake his body over the large mound. They could watch the fire ants’ attack. They would bite and sting. They would viciously attack. They would increase in numbers. They would swarm in the thousands. A force of tiny copper brown and reddish terminators would devour Pierre Rainer. His death would be slow and terrifying. His last breath would be agonising.