by A. R. Braun
Still grinning evilly, Muffy started to do cartwheels, spinning Scout’s way. A stray foot came out of nowhere like a bullet.
She passed out before it could hit her.
***
Scout came to, registered the pungent stench and instantly vomited. Muffy’s feces covered her face. She couldn’t quit regurgitating and she retched until she dry heaved. Her head throbbed so hard she thought pistons had been installed inside it. Scout wondered if her noggin would explode.
Muffy was pulling her gymnastic uniform back on while grinning—showing all her square-shaped pearly whites—and her eyes were alight with passion. That outfit couldn’t be the grade-school uniform! Did she still fit into it?
Lelila walked back over and grabbed Scout by her hair, then pulled her head back. “Woo! Your face looks like hamburger, bitch! I got one eye but I look better than that.” She released her and walked away. “Phew! You stink to high fuckin’ hell!”
“Fuck you, Cyclops,” Scout breathed.
“What’s that?” Lelila put her hand to her ear. “Say again?”
“F-fuck you … C-cyclops!”
“You shit-eating piece of low-rent garbage!” Lelila slapped her and wiped her shit-stained hand on her jeans skirt afterward. “Gonna have to change these goddamn skorts.” She looked Muffy’s way. “I score you a ten! Take a bow!”
Muffy did so.
Lelila clapped. “That’s it for the Special Olympics. Muffy. You stay down here and do whatever you want to her.”
Scout gagged.
The wisp of a girl scrunched up the line on her forehead as she winced. “Ooh, she’s got poop on her. Not now.”
“All rightie. Then let’s go upstairs and have that threesome we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout.” Still the circus barker.
“What happened to her—getch!—boyfriend?” Scout asked. “Did you kill him, you psychos?”
Lelila stuck the stained undies back in her mouth. She took Muffy’s hand and led her up the stairs. Lelila was obviously drunk, probably Muffy, too.
“Pussy boy was a liability,” Lelila cried.
Muffy giggled as if she were gossiping at school.
“Mack made his pussy face look macho for once,” Lelila added. Then she shut and locked the door.
Scout leaned forward and wept, gagging and dry heaving. She hoped to pass out or fall asleep soon.
This is hell, and the only way out of it is to be unconscious.
***
After an hour, Scout drifted off.
She was awakened by a commotion at the top of the stairs. Scout turned her head that way and saw Mack leaping the whole landing.
“WEE-HAW!”
He’d landed just in front of the bottom step, bending his legs so he wouldn’t injure himself. He had the cowboy hat on again, and he held it onto his head at the top. He grinned at her devilishly.
“Never fucked a shit-face before,” he added.
Oh God, help me, please! I was asleep! This isn’t fair! Why don’t you care about me and get me out of here?
Scout’s sleep deprivation only added to the screaming pain of her pulp of a head.
Mack took the panties out of her mouth and undid his pants. “Just finished a threesome with Lelila and Muffy.” He grinned so wide it cracked his face in wrinkles. “Best fuck ever, but I’m still horny.”
“Noooooo,” Scout screamed. “Leave me alone, you baldy piece of shit!”
He pointed at her. “S’where you’re wrong! You’re the shit-face and I’m gonna fuck it, mix my jizz with those turds, a mentholated-heat-um rub you won’t soon forget!” He lifted the cowboy hat and swung it around his head. “Get along, little doggie!”
Mack placed his penis onto her face and rubbed it all over.
“Ger ‘er, cowpoke,” Lelila cried from the top of the stairs. Her lithe form was bent forward as she watched.
“Yee-hee!” Muffy added. “Ride that buckin’ bronco!”
Mack stuck his shit-stained penis into Scout’s mouth and gagged the back of her throat. She could taste the rancid chunks of Muffy’s feces caked all over his slimy, putrid dick. He didn’t wash well. If she could’ve vomited, she would’ve, but she’d emptied the contents of her stomach hours ago. Sweat drenched her whole naked body as she jiggled in the chair at the force of his thrusts.
“Look at that little filly,” Lelila cried. “Shake it up, bay-buh!”
“Ya-hoo!” Muffy said.
Scout passed out again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Scout came to, covered with sweat. Bits and pieces of sunlight shone through the window like anomalies. When she turned her head, she saw Mack had boarded up the window. How was she ever going to get untangled from this extension cord? Clumps of shit still clung to her face, and she shook her head vehemently to make them come off. Only half of them did. The stench made her gag and retch underneath the panties stuffed back into her mouth.
I was gone! God, I hate You! How could You allow this?
Thinking maybe she shouldn’t say that because He’d helped her escape last time, she brainstormed of ways she could get away. Perhaps she could drag the chair over to the reserve tool supply and have at it. But her legs were bound so tautly she couldn’t find enough purchase to get over there.
Still gagging from the smell of Muffy’s shit, she looked at her bare stomach. She’d kill that scrawny bitch if she ever got out of this mess. Scout’s stomach stuck out again, and the rash was back on her left arm. How long would it be before it covered her body again and she had another seizure? Being left for three days without anything at all: coma time.
Panic seized her like the grim reaper.
I have to find a way! I have to get out of here or I’m going to die! Or be a vegetable, and they’ll do whatever they want with me while I lay there and take it, their little rag doll.
She wondered if that would be better. At least then she wouldn’t be aware of the pain.
Yet without life support she’d surely die. They couldn’t care for her adequately. She had to get out now.
In her mind, she prayed.
Lord, they’ve captured me again. If You’ll get me out of this mess and not let them recapture me, I’ll give my whole life to You. I’ll become a female pastor, like I said before. I’ll go to Bible college.
No answer.
But with a newfound courage and strength, she thrashed at the restraint, trying desperately to make it give way. She only found a bit of difference. She could maneuver a little better under the cord.
She decided to put all her energy into struggling against the restraint on her lower legs. If she could walk, perhaps she could bash the chair until it broke. She worked herself into another charley horse, but didn’t stop.
All the suffering was starting to make her immune to pain.
Still, not much leverage to move around.
Maybe if she lubed up the cord by pissing and spitting on it, it would become loose enough for her to get free. An absurd plan at best, but just maybe … yet she couldn’t spit with the bitter panties in her mouth.
She let go with urine, watching as it traveled down to where her legs were bound. She peed as much as she could, the liquid yellowing her legs. The sticky, stinky piss made her gag again, but there were bigger issues.
Scout found that, thanks to the pee, she could move more freely, and she lifted her ankles out of the cord.
Thank God. Here we go.
Now that she could walk—no matter if she looked like The Hunchback of Notre Dame—she trotted a good distance away from the wall, then ran at it as hard as she could, her pitiful baby steps not stealthy, but they would have to do. Just as she was flush with the concrete wall, she pivoted and bashed the metal folding chair into it.
It still held on, but she’d gained a few more inches of movement under the cord.
If only this were a wooden chair!
She crept back and repeated the process, over and over, bashing into the wall as hard as she could. It st
ill held on, but each time she had more leverage as far as movement.
Scout decided to go radical.
She flipped herself while falling, right onto her chair. It crashed down with vehement fury and seemed bent out of place. Her back screamed in pain. She hoped she hadn’t broken her spine. The damaged metal helped her to get her hands free. Now all she had to do was creep over to the reserve tool supplies. Or she could untie the knots. She decided the tool reserves were better, so she pushed herself up with her hands and feet. She crept over to the tools … and they were all gone. Mack had anticipated her next escape.
So much for that.
She’d have to untie herself. She reached around and worked at the knot. God, Lelila or Mack had strung it like a fiend—as if it was Gordian—but she begged God for the strength and worked at it like a madwoman. Long nails broke, but she couldn’t stop to worry about that.
Jesus Christ, that’s a slipknot!
Finally, it started to give way.
She pulled the restraint off, and at last she was free! Scout looked down at the chair. It was all bent out of place, the legs resembling broken human legs, the chair not fitting together right. The cushion for the back had come off and lay on the floor.
I’ll have to break the wood covering the window with the stereo speakers.
She ran over and grabbed one, glad to break Mack’s stereo that played his satanic tunes. She stopped and decided on the CD player itself instead of the speakers, a little payback for all he’d put her through. No longer concerned about the noise since they always caught her anyway, she hauled another chair over and placed it under the window. Covered with sweat, Scout didn’t let that stop her. She bashed and bashed the stereo into the wood, breaking it, chunks of electronics crashing and coming loose.
She was doing more damage to the stereo than the wood, but she kept at it. Mack’s CDs fell out of the compartment below the controls, and Scout thought she’d break them later. She continued to crash the stereo into the wood over and over.
Finally, the teak began to crack. She had to drop the ruined stereo and finish it off with the one unbroken speaker, but she managed to bash her way through. She dropped the speaker and was able to pry off the pieces of wood that hung on with her hand.
From the other side of the basement door: “What the hell is all that racket down there?” Mack’s voice.
Scout froze for a second, but couldn’t afford to stop, so she ran over and grabbed the broken chair and hid behind the water heater by the stairs. The door unlocked and Mack stomped down, carrying his pistol. She could see him staring in the direction of his ruined stereo.
“What the fuck?” he screamed. “My stereo! Jesus jumped on a cross!” He stomped. “That bitch got out again.”
Scout didn’t even think about it—and thank God she was barefoot so she wouldn’t make any noise—she burst out from behind the heater and ran toward him as fast as she could. She bashed him on the back of his head with the chair, as hard as possible.
He went down, a sickening crack coming from his nose as he landed face-first.
Direct hit!
He’d dropped the pistol. Scout couldn’t believe her luck.
Should I grab the gun and shoot them both to finally be free, or just get out of here? They won’t suffer as much if they die. I want them to get raped up the butt in prison.
But Lelila would probably enjoy that, the pervert. No, if she ever wanted to be free again, she was going to have to kill them both. She could claim self-defense. That’s exactly what it was.
Therefore, she grabbed the gun.
Lelila appeared at the top of the stairs. “Mack, what the fuck is going …” Her eye goggled when she saw Mack on the floor and Scout with the gun. Lelila held the now-useless hammer. Scout’s captor blanched, but still acted brave. She scowled. “Now, Scout, put down that gun. I’d hate to have to chuck this hammer at ya.”
Scout did her best to twist her face into a crazy visage. “I’m not your fuck slave anymore. I’m not listening to you, you’re gonna listen to me! The moment you start to throw that, I’m gonna shoot you between the … well, eye and patch. Drop it!”
Lelila trembled like the coward she was. Lethargically, she dropped the hammer down the stairs, then covered her mouth.
“Why don’t you come down here, nice and slow so I can piss on you!” Scout hissed. “Naw, you’d enjoy it too much. Don’t you make a fucking move. Get down these steps and let me deal with your worthless, raping ass.”
Lelila stood still for a moment, then took off running. Scout leapt up the stairs, taking five at a time. Lelila had flown out of the backdoor, and Scout busted through it herself, seeing her former captor sprinting toward the fence. Scout squeezed off a couple shots, hitting Lelila in the back and the shoulder. Damn, the recoil was hell, and she couldn’t hear very well now. Lelila went down onto the grass.
Let that piece of garbage bleed out and die on the lawn.
Scout hoped she had at least one bullet left.
It’s extreme, but it’s time to put a stop to this captivity once and for all. If I leave them alive, they’ll catch me again.
Scout ran down the steps and found Mack groaning and crying out in pain.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the big, bad dungeon master.” She stuck the gun to his head. “Who’s the dungeon master now?”
He craned his neck to look up at her. His eyes goggled at seeing Scout’s hand holding the piece to his head. His nose was misshapen. “Scout,” he begged, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean nothin’. We were just havin’ a little fun.”
“Muffy’s address, give it to me!”
“2134 Hilldrive.”
“You lyin’, you dyin’.”
“No.” Sweat poured into the poor bastard’s eyes, and he tried to blink it away. “Fuck that bitch.”
“You’re still dyin’.”
Mack blanched, his mouth gaping. “Please! I didn’t mean it!”
Scout snorted. “Well, I mean it. You know what you are?” she almost growled. “A coward. You’re not a man. A real man can get what he wants by earning it. You’re just a cunt rapist pervert piece of shit dog asshole twat-ass failure to God, that’s what you are!”
He wept, then he bawled.
“Yeah, cry like a little bitch!” Scout flexed on the trigger. “Say hello to Lelila in hell.”
A loud report and flash echoed through the basement. Now she could only hear what sounded like a 1980s TV test-pattern sound At this moment, Mack’s crimson-stained gray matter lay on the floor next to a dead rat.
A dead rat next to a dirty rat: perfect.
Scout had never killed anyone before—since Lelila hadn’t died immediately—and knew she should feel horrible, had seen all those movies where people freak out the first time they have to whack someone, even if it’s for the right reason, but she didn’t feel that. An exhilaration swept through her, making her high like a blunt would. She was going home to her mother and father. She was really going home at last.
Laughing and screaming, she ran up the stairs to squeeze into one of Lelila’s outfits.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Scout washed the shit off her face and took a long shower. She was afraid that when she opened the bathroom door, Lelila would fall inside, still with us and fighting for her life. But as Scout twisted the knob, she found nothing on the other side—not so much as a ghost—and she walked into the kitchen and looked through the garden window. The bitch still lay prostrate on the grass. Fear tried to spark through her like a live wire. Would somebody stroll by the alley and find her former captor?
She couldn’t worry about that now. Scout raided the fridge like a starving woman and looked out the window again. Gangbangers were raping Lelila, doggy-style. They’d jumped the fence for that thin white shit.
If she’s still hanging onto life, it serves her right.
Scout walked away from the window with a devil-may-care attitude and grabbed her purse which she’d set on t
he counter. The first order of business would be to call her parents; second, the cops; and third, buy some insulin.
Up here, the air conditioner worked overtime, and she reveled in the arctic breeze, since she hadn’t gotten to enjoy it the whole time she’d been in the dungeon. She cranked the small unit.
Scout found a purple number with a trendy brand name on the front and a pair of grey shorts, a little big and long on her, but better than nothing. At this point, she didn’t care if they matched. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.
A knock came to the door. If it was the police, that would save her a lot of trouble.
Scout crept toward the entry door and gazed through the peephole.
Muffy had a sly, anticipatory grin on her face, thinking she was going to get to piss on, shit on or rape Scout again. Maybe all three.
Perfect. Now I don’t have to track her down.
“Open up, my niggas,” Muffy cried.
Scout hid behind the door and opened it, letting it swing toward her gingerly.
“Hey, where are you guys? I wanna mess up that redhead again.”
Scout heard the wrinkle of a girl creep into the house, could see the back of her scrawny body and her straight brown hair—glowing and looking picturesque with the sun shining on it—hanging down to her ass. It was hard to believe Muffy had done such a thing, but Scout knew, had the goods on her.
“Mack, Lelila, where you at? I need my fix.”
Scout reached out and grabbed Muffy by her mane. She pulled her down on top of her. Muffy squealed, then shrieked, struggling against her, but was no match for her strength. Scout put the wisp of a girl in a headlock, choking her.
Muffy gagged, retched. “C-come on g-guys—getch!—this isn’t … funny!”
Scout put the gun to the side of Muffy’s head. “This ain’t the guys. It’s the one you raped and defecated on.”
Muffy became still, a statue.
“We’re gonna stand up,” Scout continued. “You make a move to escape, I’ll blow your brains out.” Scout rose, the stick-like neck still under her arm. She let go and spun her around.