Page 9 of Collateral Damage

I begin to pour gasoline coating the downstairs floor from the basement all the way to the front door as I close in on her, finding her shuffling her front across the floor towards the exit, dripping her gash all over the floor as she pulls her feeble body towards freedom like I won’t catch her.Stupid girl.I drop the canister and creep towards her vulnerable body, bleeding under my boot as I grab her by the ankles, dragging her through her own mess, pressing her against the wall as my hand meets her throat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She’s trembling, vibrating my fingers with pure fear and I want to let her run, but I can’t.Not now. So I tie her to the stair banister, securing her in place while I finish ransaking this place. Her glossy sadness sheets her gaze, and I exhale a heavy sigh.I suppose I am going to have to take her with me now aren't I. Fabulous, just what I fucking needed.I run for her room, grabbing a bag from the back of her door, filling it with things she may possibly need, clothes, a book sat on her bed side table and an elephant teddy sat on her bed.That’ll do. She’s lucky I'm not a complete dick.

I get back down to greet her, she's rocking her head back and forth, clamping her eyes closed to shake her nightmare that is very much real, no matter how many times she sits there and tries to wake up, I am her livingnightmare. I look at the canister and decide against the idea. If she manages to escape me some day, she may need a home to come back to.Just as I did.

She refuses to look at me but I stroke away the wet strands of hair from her face anyway.I’m sorry Love.

“Sleep tight.” The blunt end of my blade finds the side of her temple, quick and sharp, knocking her unconscious.

“Easy does it…” I catch her head in the palm of my hand as she limps her deadweight into me, cradling her fall. I don’t have sedatives on me right now, they are in the car so that was the next best thing, I couldn’t risk her screaming outside. I know she lives in the middle of butt fuck nowhere but I haven’t a clue where the next house is or about the area. The sharp end finds the tie, cutting the rope to free her from the stairs.

“Come onPrincess. Let's go.” I murmur, my arms looping underneath her arms and legs, exiting the front door of the building as I carry her to my car, realising how absolutely ridiculous this is. I’ve never kidnapped anyone. Holding someone against their will is as far as I've gone. What the fuck am I meant to do now? Do I kill her? Do I let her go? Do I get the fuck out of here before she has a chance to turn me in? Do I just finish what I fucking started and kill us both?

I sedate her to make sure she doesn’t wake for at least six hours while I figure out what the hell I'm meant to do from here. I lug her into the back seat along with her bag, propping her up against the window so it looks like she is just sleeping. Luckily no one will be on the road at this time and they won’t be found until at least the middle of next week so I'm safe.

For now.

C H A P T E R 6

DAMAGED GOODS

Puppet

Ibreak open my eyes, hazy and unaware of my surroundings, worrying I've gone blind when I realise, I've been restricted from sight and my mouth is still taped shut which only heightens my anxiety. I was drugged and I'm still in full effect. My head is spinning, pounding at my frontal skull and all minor strength has been sucked from my feeble muscles. This feeling is something of a living nightmare which only grows worse when I find the energy to move and realise both my wrists are bound to what I can only assume is a bed I'm lying on. The chains clank against the metal sending me into a fit of panic I can't even describe as my clothes stick to my hot skin. I'm still in my pyjamas so at least they were modest enough to keep me clothed.

Trying to keep my composure, I focus on my breathing, sitting in a pool of discomfort as my sore eyes graze my lids. I feel like I've got stones in my sockets where I've shed so many tears that are still spilling over, too focused on my breathing to realise the dirty great gash that has split the back of my calf. I muffle a yelp behind the tape as I try to shuffle it against the bed sheets. It feels wrapped but it doesn't make it any less painful. Even drugged to the high heavens the throbbing is churning the back of my throat, shooting up the back of my leg interrupting my nervous system. I don't think they hit anything vital, butthe blood still wants to pour out of the wound like a tap. It's throbbing so hard I squint at the pain, wanting to scream as the tape pulls at my skin surrounding my mouth. I stretch it with pained cheek movements to accommodate the uncontrollable whining, wallowing in this torment as I sway rhythmically to try and ease the urge to lose my mind. I'm lying here like Jesus on a cross and I haven't a clue what's going on beyond my current position. What monstrosity I am currently sitting in. Where I even am?

I tune in to the sounds and smells, using all my senses to my advantage. The air smells stale, thick with must. A place that hasn't been looked after and a potent stench of paint that makes me queasy. I never did like that smell…when we moved that smell lingered around the house for almost a year.

Focusing on distant shuffling, heavy rubber boots graze the wooden floorboards and the sound of water running in the distance sends a shiver along my spine, the gushing tap making the centre of my legs swell with a sudden desperation to use the lavatory but that isn't possible right now.Hey Mr Killer. May I use your bathroom?

My heart accelerates tenfold when their footprints approach me, homing in on my personal space. I'm trembling with anticipation. I know what I saw and I know the profile they hold. I'm going to die here and I feel like I've been shot in the chest. This ache is unbearable, like heartburn, like someone lit a match and ignited a fire inside my chest that I can't put out no matter how many tears I cry.

I go to force another sob before a finger meets the outer lining of the tape plastered across my mouth making me freeze like marble, sobbing into the void as I hold my breath, praying they remove my prison mask but it remains on. They smell of leather and men’s tacky cologne as I feel them perch on the bed beside me indenting the mattress. I hear a glass hit awooden surface, as I manoeuvre myself inches away from them in protest. I want to scream but I'm frozen solid and my mouth is restricted, feeling sweat lather my skin like heat rash.

“The longer you fight. The harder this is for both of us.” Their voice is like that one song you can't stand, scrunching your face in displease when you hear it play. It's so rough and low it makes my brittle bones rattle.

I can only listen. Shaking like a leaf as their words slice through my open wounds, still bleeding. I don't know how long I've been out but by the way my muscles have seized like a century old pipe. It's been a while and it's making it hard to keep calm. I'm weak, I'm vulnerable, I'm restrained with no way out, stuck in the confinement of my own darkness, accompanied by a monster with incalculable intentions and a suffering worse than torture.

“I never intended for this.” They say deeply, a guilty conscience is lingering against their prompt, but I can't read their objective and it's only making this more frightening.

The worst-case scenarios and profound feelings start to engross my conscious mind and I hope I die before they happen.

Rape. Torture. Violence. Psychical abuse. Dismembering.

Disquietude is pumping through my cold veins, warming my fight or flight instinct but I have neither. I'm just helpless prey caught in a trap waiting to be slaughtered and fed to rabid dogs.

“You weren't supposed to be a part of this,” their leather gloves stagger my wet cheeks, wiping away my sorrow as I almost swallow my tongue from tensing it to the back of my throat realising their touch is entirely different.Tender?

“You need to believe me if you want this to work in your favour. Do you understand? Nod if you understand.” I do as I'm told like a good girl, too fearful of the outcome if I do not comply. I will do anything right now to keep the monster at bay. The last thing I want to do is rattle its cage when it's starving.

Killers don't kill for no reason. It's always feeding something, and they play with their food if they aren't yet ready to feast again.

“I'm going to remove your binds when I feel I can trust you with the knowledge you will come to learn.” I replay what they say in my head and I'm sensing a twisted kindness. They don't seem to want to harm me, they plan on having me stick around? And thewhyis the part that frightens me the most. They like to lure you into a false sense of security only to tear it from your chest. They said ‘come to learn’ like I will be sticking around, so I suppose I can be grateful they don’t want to end me but I'll be honest that really doesn't ease my mind at all. That could mean so many different things with so many different outcomes. None I see are good right now unless I ended up being kidnapped by a friendly killer. Chances? slim to none. When the hell do you see that on the news?Never.

My head rests on a pillow, sinking into it to hold my head which is far more than I expected when held against my will. They push themself back off the bed and I hear the flick of fabric and a gust of cold wind smother my skin in goosebumps. Flinching so hard I tense my torn calf muscle and hiss through the pain as a blanket encapsulates me. I’m afraid they want to suffocate me but instead it rests on my exposed frame, closing me in from the cold.

“You've been out for six hours. Now you're in the land of the living I can finally comfort that pain.” What does that mean? What are they going to do? That doesn't sound good at all.

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