Beautiful Torture

by C. P. Mandara

  "So, when did you discover you're gay, Gabriel?" This is just to let him know that Brandt's told me everything, or at least more than he'd probably want me to know. I wait to see if it rattles him. He takes his time answering me. Meanwhile, he's bringing his pair of picks up to the metal lock in front of him. Placing them carefully, one in each corner of the lock, he begins to twist them around. My legs turn to jelly, but thankfully I'm still sitting down.

  "Who told you that, princess?" Gabriel is now biting his lip in an effort not to laugh. What is so funny?

  "So, you're not gay?" I raise my eyebrows in question. I'm jerking his chain, so I don't care either way. There was only one option available in prison. It's entirely possible he's heterosexual. It's interesting that he finds the conversation amusing, though.

  "My, my, my, what a nosy thing you are, Miss Wilkinson. That will get you into trouble round these parts, but just this once I'll share. I'm bisexual. I like men and women. Sometimes I fuck them both at once for kicks."

  His eyes watch mine as the picks do their own thing, clicking away happily in his fingers. I don't give him a reaction to that revelation, but it does make me pause. Does Brandt know this? I bet he doesn't.

  "What's the point of this, Gabriel? You've been sent here to babysit. Why create all this drama? Why not wait until Brandt gets back and ask him if you can sleep with me?" It's a fair point. If they're best buddies, I'm sure Brandt would be only too happy to oblige. I'm not sure they left each other on the best of terms, though. Actually, I'm fairly certain they didn't.

  "Where would the fun be in that? Brandt is far more fun to fuck when he's angry. Even you should know that by now, Harper." It's the first time he's called me by my name, and the sound of it on those sinful lips makes my skin break out in goose-bumps. I hope he sticks to sweetheart or princess in future.

  "He's not even talking to me," I say, rather sourly. It's nothing short of the truth. Brandt doesn't want to hear my sorry tale just yet. He just wants to play with his food.

  "That I don't doubt, but he has fucked you." Gabriel says that sentence with absolute certainty. I wonder why he thinks that? Brandt can't bear the sight of me at the moment. The only reason he's played with me is to demonstrate the misery he's suffered. I have to give it to him, too. It's been a pretty effective telling off.

  "He hasn't fucked me, so that shows how much you know." I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him. I don't know why I bother because Gabriel is far too focused on the task in front of him. I can hear another series of clicks as he begins to make progress with the lock. He then begins cursing, which I guess is his way of telling me the job isn't quite as easy as it looks, and it seems that Brandt has done his homework. He's not going to be in here in a couple of seconds, the way they break into houses in the movies. By the looks of things this will take a few minutes, and for that I am thankful. It gives me time to figure out what I'm going to do as soon as he bursts through that door.

  I'm clutching the cable plug in my hand under the duvet. When Gabriel finally gets in I'm losing the duvet, and if that isn't a big enough distraction my next move will be. That should give me time to plug in the cable and hurt the guy. I can feel my legs shaking already. Adrenaline is beginning to build, and my fingers are jumpy. Where was Brandt? I don't know why I'm thinking of him as my saviour. If he were here there's every chance he'd watch and laugh as Gabriel does his thing. I need to get away. That's the only option. I need to get past those bars and run as fast as my legs will carry me.

  "Finally!" Gabriel's exclamation is my indication to leap to my feet. The duvet drops to the floor as I stand my ground. He pulls the door open with one heavily muscled arm, but the bucket is already in my hand.

  "Don't you even think of throwing..." The rest of his sentence is drowned out by the sound of a day's worth of stale urine hitting him square in the face. His eyes look murderous as he advances towards me, but I'm already slamming the plug in the socket, careful to only hold the rubberised part of the cable. Thrusting forward with my arm I prod the wires in the centre of his chest and watch the sparks fly.

  Watching someone receive an electric shock isn't a pleasant experience. Gabriel's body seems to freeze up as his muscles lock and his eyes go wide. For a moment they look like they're going to pop out of his head, and it's clear he can't believe what has just happened. I press the wires to his chest again and hold them against him for longer the second time around, hoping that I've given him enough current to stop any form of retaliation once he gets over the surprise. I'm expecting a whack around the head, but it seems the current has done its job. Gabriel takes a step backwards and his knees crumple beneath him. I utilise this momentum by whacking him round the head with the iPad as hard as I can with both hands and watch as he falls to the floor with a thud, his head cracking sharply against the concrete. I wince for him. That had to hurt.

  Standing back I watch for any signs of life, but there are none. I don't think the current knocked him unconscious, I think it was the fall, but I don't stand around to find out. I have to get out of here before Brandt gets back and there's no time to lose.

  Rushing up the stone steps I zoom through the house and head upstairs. I need to find Brandt's room. While there won't be any clothes around that will fit me, he'll have some jeans and a jumper stored somewhere. I'm sure of it. Hopefully there'll be a jacket too. I'll have to adjust them to fit me as best I can. Anything has got to be better than nothing. Although it's not freezing outside it's not particularly warm, and if I want to stay alive long enough to find help or shelter, I'll need to dress for the elements. My worst enemy at the moment is rain. Nearly every time I've been above ground in this infernal house it's been drizzling or raining. I'm going to cross my fingers that it isn't today. Being soaked wet through on my first day of freedom isn't my idea of fun. Mind you, I'll take it. Anything is better than being locked downstairs in that cage.

  I have no idea when Gabriel will wake up, and Brandt might be just around the corner. I'm going to need a head-start to get away from those two, so time is of the essence. What do I need? Clothes and food. Everything else is surplus to requirement.

  I open each door I find and begin searching through drawers and wardrobes. Most are empty. Those that aren't are filled with an odd assortment of knickknacks and memorabilia. This house hasn't been lived in for some time. It smells old, damp and musty, and there's a lingering scent of mothballs in the air. It isn't until I enter the third bedroom that I spot signs of life. The bed isn't freshly made, and there's a used mug resting on a wooden bedside table. The top draw finally reveals clothing, all of which is much too big for me, but beggars can't be choosers. I pull on a pair of jeans and roll the waist and legs up until I can walk around without tripping over them. Rummaging around, I find a T-shirt and sweatshirt, and drag these over my head. They hang off me, but there's not much I can do about it. Brandt also has an anorak, thank God, but he must have taken his coat with him. It's not going to keep me particularly warm, but at least it should be waterproof. As for shoes, there's nothing but a pair of massive trainers. I guess they're better than nothing, but they'll slow me down. Maybe if I wedge them on with a couple of pairs of thick socks they'll be almost wearable. I know I won't be able to do the entire distance bare foot. My feet are in a sorry enough state as it is. Last but not least, I spot a small duffel bag in the corner of the wardrobe, which I'm sure will come in handy.

  When I've piled this lot on I feel like the Michelin man, but I'm already running downstairs. I need a few provisions, and then it's time to get the hell out of here. Racing into the kitchen, already out of breath, I dump my bag on the island and begin rummaging in the cupboards underneath. I find some fruit, a couple of cereal bars and some chocolate. Opening the fridge, I grab the remains of a chicken pie and a wedge of Edam cheese. It's enough for now. That could easily last me a week, if I rationed it out, although I'm optimistic I'll have found help by then. It might take me a day or two, but I'm sure I'll find someone bef
ore long. Stuffing all the food into my bag, I sling it over my shoulder and make my way towards the door. My hands are still shaking. This is my second attempt at escape, and I'd better make this one count.

  Chapter 6 - Brandt

  Rush hour traffic snarls up as I head into Glasgow. By this time I am on my knees. I didn't sleep particularly well yesterday, and I've just pulled an all-nighter. Though I have stopped for numerous coffees and some horribly caffeinated energy drinks along the way, I now feel like death warmed up. What I should do, is pull over on the motorway and take a nap for a couple of hours. That would be the sensible thing. In the back of my mind, though, the image of Gabriel fucking Harper haunts me, and I know he'll do it just to spite me. I can't let that happen. It will destroy me. I need to get back.

  Turning the radio up as loud as it will go, and opening the window wide, I let a rush of cold air jolt me awake. I haven't got too far to go now. When this traffic clears up I can put my foot down and power on home. Trying Gabriel's phone one last time I swear as it heads straight to voicemail. He's there with Harper. There is no question in my mind. When I get my hands on him I'm going to plough my fist straight through his beautiful fucking face. This might be a game to him, but it isn't to me. She's the only person that knows what really happened on the day I got arrested, and if anything happens to her any hope of exonerating myself will disappear with her.

  "Hallelujah!" When the traffic finally starts moving again I thump the steering wheel and sigh gratefully. There is nothing worse than having to sit still when you're tired. Now I know that I only have a few hours to go I feel a lot better about life in general. Harper will be fine. Gabriel will have behaved himself. I'm worrying about nothing. What could possibly go wrong?

  When I pull up outside the house, there is no car. Is Gabriel not here, after all? Perhaps he's gotten himself into some kind of nasty mess again? Maybe he's pulled a DUI and is under lock and key for the night. Nothing would surprise me.

  Pushing open the door to the house, I head straight downstairs. I'm going to make sure Harper's okay, then I'm going to bed, where I'm going to stay for at least the next ten hours. Tumbling down the steps in a sleep-deprived stupor, I unzip my jacket and pull it apart. I then stop dead in my tracks when I see her cell door wide open. What the hell is going on here? As my gaze focuses on a person laid on the floor my eyes go wide in horror.

  It's not who I expect, though. Running over, I grab Gabriel by his shoulders and shake him. He stinks to high heaven, but that's the least of my worries.

  "Gabriel. Gabriel!" I pray to God Harper hasn't killed him. The last thing I need is a dead body on my hands. I've got enough problems as it is. At first I get no response from him, so I check for a pulse in his neck. It's there. Jesus Christ. I don't need this kind of excitement.

  "Gabriel, you bastard, wake up!" This time I slap him, hard. If he's stupid enough to have let Harper escape he deserves all this and more. His eyelashes flicker. He's coming to. I release the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. "What fucking happened here?" I growl. I'm so mad I could breathe fire. Did he touch her? Is that why she ran? Did he hurt her? My eyes scan their way quickly around the cell, but thankfully there's no sign of blood. They then zoom in on the broken electricity cable lying on the concrete floor. It doesn't take long for me to put two and two together. I have to give it to Harper, she's not stupid.

  "God, my head hurts. I think I banged it hard," Gabriel moans.

  "If you're not fucking careful it'll hurt a whole lot more in a minute," I growl. "Why the hell were you inside her cell in the first place?" All I can see is red. I want to smash his head into the concrete over and over again for doing this to me. "Actually, at the moment I don't care. Where's Harper? And where's your car?" If Harper has managed to get his car keys she could be miles away by now. This time it'll be a lot harder to catch her. She'll have no credit cards that I can use to track her with, and she'll be a damn site more cautious. The woman might have just slipped through my fingers forever. The thought freezes the blood in my veins.

  "I didn't come by car," Gabriel croaks. His arm comes up to feel what I'm guessing must be a nasty lump on the underside of his head. "I caught the train, and a taxi dropped me off here. It cost a bloody fortune, too." Slowly he manages to get himself upright.

  "What happened?" While I want to go tearing off into the undergrowth immediately, I need to know what I'm dealing with. If he tried to hurt her, or worse, there's no way I'm letting him come with me. I can lock the bastard up until I come back. It'll be just like old times for him.

  "Nothing happened," he moans. "Sure, I wanted to play with her, see if I could get a few answers, but as soon as I walked in the cell she was ready for me. I went out like a light. You didn't tell me she's lethal." Gabriel stretches his fingers out and swears. "I've got pins and needles everywhere. What's with that? Is it the after-effects of the electricity?" He looks at me as if I have all the answers.

  "I don't care what you've got, or how you got it. Get your ass in some decent clothes and get ready to go hunting. She can't escape. If she rats on us I'll go back inside, and now you probably will too. She knows who you are." Gabriel nods. He's beginning to realise how serious this situation is.

  "Fuck," he swears. Getting to his feet he begins jogging up the steps, and I follow quickly after him. Zipping my jacket closed again I wonder how many hours I've been up now? Twenty-four, give or take an hour or two? I feel horrible, but there's no chance of sleep for me until Harper has been found. Racing upstairs, I open my drawer to grab a pair of gloves, only to find they've disappeared. Harper's been here. Swearing, I run back downstairs to find Gabriel already waiting for me.

  "How long have you been out?" I ask. I need to know how much of a head-start Harper has on us. It'd better not be a long one.

  Gabriel looks at his watch. "An hour," I think. "It can't be much more than that."

  I nod. I can work with an hour or two. Much more and we would have been in real trouble.

  "Shall we split up," he asks? At least he's dressed sensibly for the weather. He's got a thick waterproof jacket and trousers to match. It's more than I have.

  "Yes. Don't bother searching to the rear of the property, there's a sheer cliff down there and she'll never be able to get down it. Out the front, the road forks in two directions, left and right. You take the left. She'll have to get on the road eventually if she wants to find help. I'm going to take the car, but you'll be on foot. Have you got a cell-phone with you?"

  "No. I bust mine just after you rang. I dropped it outside in a fucking puddle. I've ordered a new one, but it'll take a few hours to arrive, and when it does it'll be in London. Maybe I should get a burner phone down here? If there is some kind of civilisation in this god-forsaken place? I didn't see a house for miles on the way down." Gabriel looks astounded that anywhere could be this desolate, but he's rarely been out of the city. Scotland and London are almost polar opposites.

  "That's kind of the point, idiot." I pass him my phone. "If you get stuck call the house phone. It's already programmed in there. It won't take me long to scout the area by car. She can't have gone far. You, on the other hand, had better get a move on." I raise my eyebrows in warning.

  "I'm going, I'm going. Don't worry. We'll get her back."

  I give him a look. "We'd better," I say pointedly.

  Gabriel nods and begins walking at breakneck speed.

  I don't immediately get in the car. Scouting around outside the front door, I look for tracks. If she's taken the road I won't find anything, but if she's decided to go across country, I might. Harper, as Gabriel has just found out, is a clever girl. For starters, she managed to get me incarcerated for her wrongdoings, and secondly, she was studying with me at the Imperial College of London. I'm guessing she had a scholarship, although I don't know that for certain. If she did, it probably puts her in the top ten percent of pupils there, yet I know for a fact she failed to graduate. Was that down to Alex? It seems likely. He was
a bad influence on all those around him.

  I can't help but wonder where her parents are. She never talks about them, and I've never seen her with them. Are they even in the picture? I'd like to think they wouldn't have allowed her to marry Wilkinson if they were still around. Also, she wouldn't have run off to Nottingham if she had family, nor would she have starved herself half to death. I suspect they're either dead or something just as bad.

  Finding no evidence of footprints as I scour both sides of the driveway on the way down, I swear. It looks like she was smart enough to take the road, at least in the beginning, anyway. It's more than likely she'll wander inland at some point, but she wants to make it difficult for us to track her. Running back to the car I start it up and reverse out of the garage. Then I power down the drive and take a right.

  There's a reason I've told Gabriel to go left. The nearest village down that road is over fifty miles away. She's going nowhere fast if she takes that route. If she took a right, however, she'll start seeing signs of civilisation in thirty miles or so. My guess is she won't manage more than ten to fifteen miles on foot per day. Theoretically, I've got two days to find her. Realistically, I need to find her in the next couple of hours, or I risk becoming one of the walking dead. Thank God I didn't wait for the train.

  My eyes peel left and right as I drive slowly. I'm not exactly sure what I'm looking for, but I'll know when I find it. Harper will feel too exposed on the road. Even though there's a chance a passing car might come to her rescue, she knows that's unlikely because I've already told her how remote this place is. I think she'll aim for cover at the earliest opportunity. She'll be looking to keep herself as hidden from the road as possible, while still keeping it in sight. Roads lead to places with houses and people. She knows that's her ticket out of here. That's my guess, anyway.