I struggled against them as much as I could, earning a slap to my back from Luke. “Don’t take too much of the fight out of her, love,” Emma urged. “Tonight won’t be much fun if she’s broken.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he agreed. A large unfinished living room lay at the bottom of the stairs. I saw a bathroom as they dragged me into a musty bedroom, where loud whimpering drowned out the silence.
“You can scream and cry all you want. No one’s going to hear you through these walls. I’ve had them soundproofed,” Emma said to the woman in the corner. She was tied to a chair, now tipped over in an effort to escape.
The two sat me down, and Luke brought the other captive upright, revealing her face. “Alma!” I shouted into the tape. They bound me to an old wooden chair that looked on the verge of disintegrating, angling me so that I faced her. Luke hadn’t lied when he said he had beat her up. She had a bluish-purple eye, and bruises marked her body along her arms.
They simultaneously ripped off the tape covering our mouths. I wasn’t sure which of us screamed louder, as we pierced each other’s ears like a knife stabbing flesh, and the pain rung on after the screams faded.
“Go ahead and scream, sweetie,” Luke laughed. He slapped Alma hard across the face. She bit back any response besides a mild whine. “No?” He waved the back of his hand at her face and stopped before he sent her reeling. She flinched. Emma and Luke both laughed. “How disappointing, Alma. I thought you had more in you. I thought you were one of those strong, I-don’t-need-a-man types. Oh, wait, you do need a man, but he rejected you over and over and over, just like you rejected me.”
“Why?” I blurted.
Luke knelt between us, staring at me with the craziest look I’d ever seen in real life. He made Crazy Eyes from “Orange is the New Black” look sane. Taking out a switchblade from his pocket, he flicked it open. “You think Vince is so goddamn perfect, don’t you?” His harsh laugh was starting to nauseate me. “Don’t you? Well, he’s not. Oh no, Mr. Perfect is really Mr. I’ll-fuck-you-over-the-first-chance-I-get. He charms you one moment, then swindles you the next. He took everything from me. I mean, we were partners for fuck’s sake, and he took all my money, my future—even my girl.”
“I was never your girl, Luke,” Alma hissed.
“The fuck you weren’t,” he growled back. He tapped her knee with the flat of the blade. “How does that cold steel feel on your soft skin, sweetie? Hmm? Does it make you remember how it really was?”
“You’re delusional. You’re sick, you know that? Fucking sick,” she responded, her voice scathing.
He rotated the knife so that the cutting edge lay against her skin, peeling into her knee. Alma winced and screamed, trying to kick him, but the ropes held her in check. Blood ran down her leg to the floor. “Sick? I’ll tell you what’s sick, sweetie—it was sick watching you swoon over Vince when I was right there in front of you. A great guy, just as smart, just as good-looking as that prick, and yet you tell me it will never happen? Really? REALLY? I mean, come on.” He stood up and paced behind her.
“I loved you, Alma.” He licked his lips. “Loved you like no man ever has. But you missed out. Now I’ve got a new chick.” He grabbed Emma’s ass and squeezed.
“That’s right,” she said, putting her tongue down his throat. “And I have to say, having fucked both of them, Vince was nothing with that limp cock of his.” Standing before us, she seemed so normal, except for the strange glint in her eye that foretold my death.
My mind was racing, my heart pounding out of control, and the worst of it all, I had no idea what to do. Even after swallowing the panic that threatened to crush me, still no course of action struck me. My only idea, and it seemed silly enough, was to keep them talking instead of whatever else they planned for us.
“That’s all well and good,” I said, “but that wasn’t the ‘why’ I meant. I meant, why do you always wear that same silly jacket? Don’t you have any other clothes?”
“Oh, I like this one,” Luke said to Emma. “She’s got some wit.” He straightened out the dirty jacket. “It’s lucky, and look what my luck has brought me tonight.” He smiled at me, eyeing my breasts.
“How is it that you’re together?” I asked, stalling. “And why’d you kidnap us? What could you possibly gain from this?”
“Funny enough, our paths crossed while stalking Vince,” Emma said, “and what can I say? True love is true love. Isn’t that right, Luke?”
He squeezed her ass in response, and then slapped it, and she stumbled forward a step. “As for you two, you were the next best choices for revenge after I failed to kill Vince at the wedding. He became too well guarded. He had men crawling all over the place, babysitting him when he went to the grocery store, holding his hand at restaurants.”
“But you two,” Emma picked up where Luke left off. “You two were easier targets. Ms. Sweetie here”—she tapped Alma on the shoulder, who instantly shrugged off the touch—“had her men, sure, but only a handful compared to Vince’s army.” Vince had upped his security, that was sure enough, but her exaggeration went into the arena of hyperbole. “And you, my sweet cupcake, well, you’re a nobody, and snatching a nobody is easier than taking candy from a baby.”
Did she really just say that? I forced my face into a stern expression to hide my gawking. “I learned everything from reading Dexter Morgan,” she continued. “Take a bit of thick fishing line and sneak up on someone. That’s how I got you.” She showed me the clear fishing line and pulled it tight a few times, smirking. “We have a kill room and everything, all for you. Anyway, we planned to only take Alma since you’d run out on Vince. We knew her death would crush him, plus Luke would finally get some satisfaction after so many years of being spit on by the two of them.
“But when we found out about your engagement, well, we changed our plans to include you. I wanted Vince like Luke wanted Alma. Before I met Luke, Vince and I were meant for each other. You could see that, couldn’t you?” She didn’t give me time to answer. “But once you took off, he tossed me out like a piece of trash, like I was fucking nothing to him.”
“With both of you out of the picture,” Luke said, “he’ll be wrecked beyond recovery. It’ll be just as good, if not better, than if we slit his own throat. He’ll probably fucking off himself, thanks to us.”
“I think that’s enough talk, love,” Emma said to Luke. “She thinks she’s stalling, but we have lots of time: all night in fact. And we were going to tell you all that anyway. After all, what’s the point of doing all this work and not letting you in on the plan, right? Now, though, it’s time for the real fun to begin.”
Luke picked up Alma with her still attached to the chair. She began screaming again, trying desperately to free her legs and kick him. “I’m going to enjoy this so much.” He kissed her cheek and she gagged.
“We both are,” Emma added. “We’re going to have us a real three-way, where the stupid bitch doesn’t run away just because her man wants to fuck me more than her. Start setting her up—I’ll be in in a moment.”
Luke carried Alma out of the room. Her screams grew muffled when Emma closed the door. She picked up a duffel bag from the floor, unzipped it, and took out a huge black dildo. “See what I have for you.” She smacked my face with the sex toy. I moved my head to avoid it, but there was no escaping her taunts. She lifted up a harness out of the bag. “I’m going to fuck you raw. Just like Vince wanted to fuck me that night. You saw it in his eyes.”
“But he never did, did he?” I said, compelling my voice to a deep, grim level. Be calm. Be calm. That’s the only way out of here, I told myself as I stared down Emma.
Her lip curled up, furious. “What the fuck do you know, you stupid cunt? Just for that, I’m going to fuck you until you bleed.” She slapped me again with the fake cock, and then tossed the toy and harness into the bag before leaving me alone.
With the door closed, I could only make out faint cries coming from the bedroom across
the basement. Be calm. Be calm, I repeated to myself. I scanned the room for something to cut the rope, wiggling my wrists. There was nothing but an old metal bedframe, a dusty desk stacked with newspapers, and a collection of dolls. Then I remembered that the rooms were soundproofed, which meant I had the freedom to make as much noise as I wanted.
Only one idea came to mind, and I knew it would hurt, but I had to brave the risk, not just for my own sake, but for Alma’s as well. I drew in a few deep breaths. Then, I started rocking back and forth until my feet were able to touch the concrete floor, pushing off when they connected. As I fell backward, I tucked my head to my chest to avoid knocking myself out. The slats that made up the back of the chair splintered from the impact. Fragments dug sharply into my skin. I grit my teeth as pain shot up my arms.
The chair’s seat and back fell away when I rolled over, leaving only the pegs that bound my legs. I swung my arms out from under my butt and over the pegs, until they were in front of me. The cuts on my arms were minor enough, or so I hoped as I got to my knees.
Crawling to the desk, I opened the drawer, searching through old school supplies. I found a pair of old shears like what my grandma had once used in her garden. Biting down on the handle with the blades on their sides, I rubbed the thin rope across the still-sharp cutting edge. The rope began shaving away as sweat beaded into my eyes. My heartbeat thudded in my ear.
The shears trimmed away enough of the rope that I could yank my hands apart in one violent action to free them. The knots weren’t as amateur as I could have hoped for, so I had to cut my legs free as well. With every second that passed, I knew Alma was in that much more peril.
My hands and feet unbound, I slid out of the rope that had secured my chest to the chair. Shears in hand, I cracked open the door, spying out into the vacant living room. I crept out into the room, noting that the bathroom door was closed, with a thin band of light shining under the door.
Someone was in there. My guess was Emma. And then I was seized by an impulse to fight or flight. Save Alma or save myself and get help? I knew I wouldn’t find help from any immediate neighbors. The houses were empty, if Luke was to be believed. A voice inside me was also saying that I couldn’t leave her behind, not while I knew what Luke was about to do to her.
I could hear her muted whimpers on the other side of the door across from the first bedroom—the barely-audible noises as soft as whispers. My stomach knotted, but my resolve only grew stronger. Looking down at the coffee table in the center of the room, I noticed the remains of some powder coating the furniture. Drugs, I guessed, since Luke had never stopped using. So he was amped up, which would make him all the more dangerous. But he was nothing compared to Terrance in size. Luke was a different story. I can do it. I can save her, I told myself.
To my left, on the shelves, I spotted a bunch of old hardware, mostly work tools left to rust in storage. Among the hammers and screwdrivers, a hatchet stood out, its blade dulled, but I thought it looked way more dangerous than a pair of shears.
I clenched my fingers around the handle and snuck to the door, wrapping my free hand around the knob. Sucking in a few big breaths, I charged into the room.
Luke lay over Alma, who was tied—naked—in the middle of a four-post bed. She was yelling with full body convulsions. It looked as if he had been running the knife across her legs, slicing up her smooth skin. He glanced over at me before he turned suddenly and stabbed Alma in the stomach. She let out a blood-curdling scream that made me wince.
A murderous wrath gripped me, and without thinking, I swept across the room.
He jumped off the bed, knife in hand, darting at me like a hyper cat, and then lunged. I dodged right, the blade just missing my ribs. Swinging the hatchet, I buried the steel into his chest, the motion throwing me off balance. I caught myself before I hit the floor. Luke was not so lucky. His shins slammed into an ottoman and he toppled over, chest first, his hands out and flailing. The ax sunk deeper into his body with a sickening thud.
I gagged as blood pooled around Luke’s lifeless figure. Alma’s screams brought my attention back to her. I tossed sheets over her naked breasts and crotch, aware of the humiliation she felt. Blood seeped through the fabric along her legs from the minor cuts, but the stab wound in her stomach looked gruesomely serious, and I told her to apply pressure with the bundled up sheet. I rushed to cut the rope with the shears I’d dropped by the door. One by one, the nylon lines snapped.
Free, Alma hid her face in my shoulder, sobbing in pain and trauma. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be all right, Alma. I’m going to save you. I promise,” I said, looking her straight in the eyes. I embraced her in a comforting hold for as long as I dared—
—Too long, as fate would have it. Emma appeared in the door wearing a leather costume. “Look what I have,” she intoned, swinging the dildo now strapped to her in the harness. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Luke sprawled out on the floor, a puddle of blood expanding around the corpse. “What the—”
I gave her no time to think, sprinting at her, and decking her to the floor. But she was quick and fit, kneeing me in the stomach, forcing me to curl up in pain. I cursed myself for not doing more ab workouts at the gym. Rolling out of her arms, I clambered to my feet using an old armchair, raising my fist to fight her just as we’d learned in the kickboxing class we’d taken together. Only she wasn’t a punching bag.
No, she was a crazy, spirited, toned woman who could fight back—and worst of all, she knew how to fight, probably better than I did. She stepped in closer and threw a punch. I blocked it with my forearm, but I wasn’t ready for the kick to my shin. I hopped around on one leg, crying out. My jaw tightened up as I clenched my teeth, my anger only rising.
“I bet you never thought we’d be doing this, huh?” Emma asked, laughing. “That’s the difference between you and me. I have thought about it. Many times, in fact.”
“Well, you’re completely psycho,” I said, leaning back as she struck at my shoulder, connecting. I jumped back, putting more distance between us. “So it makes sense.”
“You know, I felt kind of sorry for you when you ran out,” she said, circling the living room. “After how much we enjoyed each other’s sweet pussies, I thought I’d miss it. It almost made me sad that Vince wanted to fuck me instead of you.”
“Emma,” I huffed, “I think you might want to take a look in the mirror and play back what actually happened. Vince chose me, not you. He wants to be with me, not you. You kidnapped me to kill me so that you could get revenge for him throwing you out on your ass.” I evaded a hard swing to my chest, spinning around the coffee table. “I’m the one who should feel sorry, Emma. You’re fucking out of your mind.”
She took hold of the strap-on and started wiggling it around. “This is for you, Maci, remember? I’m going to fuck you even after all the blood drains from your rotting corpse.” She jabbed at my stomach again, the blows blocked by my elbows. “You’re mine,” she growled, diving at me.
We fell to the concrete floor in front of the second bedroom. I crawled for the shears on the bed. Alma was lying flat on the mattress, howling in agony. “Alma!” I croaked. “The scissors!”
Emma scrambled up my back, winding my hair in her hand, yanking my head back. I shouted in pain. Alma glanced over at us, feeling blindly for the shears. She found them and tossed the pair a few feet in front of us. They landed near Luke’s dead body, splashing in his blood.
I kicked and kicked until I broke away from Emma’s strong grip, clawing my way to the shears. When I got to them, I jumped up, and spun around, seeing Emma sprint for the tools in the living room. Out of breath, I raced after her with everything I had in me, leaping for her feet.
I caught a shoe and drove the shears into her calf. She kicked me hard with her other leg, bending over to withdraw the rusted steel. Dizzy, blood ran into my eye, stinging it with sweat. I tried to focus, but the world grew warm and fuzzy—and then I found Emma on top of me, hold
ing the shears’ lethal tip over my neck.
My strength struggled against hers as she inched the point closer and closer toward my skin. She was unbelievably strong.
“STOP! POLICE!” someone shouted by the stairs.
Emma ignored the order.
I gritted my teeth as our arms battled. We were both shaking, one of us about to give. In one last surge of desperation, I shoved her fists up, smacking her face. Quickly, I rolled out from under her, and didn’t stop until I hit the wall.
“Maci!” I looked up and there was Vince, crouching over me.
“DON’T MOVE,” someone else shouted. Vince and I glanced over at Emma, who was now surrounded by cops, her eyes bloodshot and crazed. “THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING. DROP THE SCISSORS OR YOU WILL BE STUNNED.” Emma charged at an officer.
An officer shot the stun gun right at her chest. Tased, her entire body convulsed while she released a high whine, then dropped to the floor like a brick, incapacitated. Three officers closed in: one cuffed her, while the other two pinned her down and retrieved the shears. They read her her rights as they hauled her upstairs. I stared her down with hatred boiling in the pit of my stomach.
Vince wrapped his arms around me. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
I nodded, pointing at the bedroom with tears streaming down my face. “Alma—she’s hurt bad, really bad.” More cops and EMTs rushed downstairs. Vince directed the EMTs to the bedroom where Alma lay. Her screams had dwindled to weak groans, and by the time they removed her on a gurney, she was completely silent, her eyes distant. Vince talked with the EMTs caring for Alma as another EMT checked me over outside the house.
“How bad is it?” I asked when Vince walked over, his worried lips curled in that funny way they did.
“They’re flying her to Portland. The stab wound—” he faltered, drawing in a long breath, letting it out with a quiver of fear. “It’s serious,” he continued. “She’s lost a lot of blood …” he trailed off.
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