Page 3 of Massacre
April 4, 2019, Age 22...
“I’m going to break you, Bethany,” the vile man sneered as he raised his hand, letting the bullwhip go as the thin leather struck my backside.
Yet, I refused to cry out.
“Diablo!” a loud, powerful voice boomed down into the dungeon. “Where the fuck are you?”
“With my new pet, George. Come see her. She’s a wild one. Stubborn. Refuses to break,” Sebastian shouted back as he grabbed the leather straps of the bullwhip and yanked back, removing my blood from them.
I faintly heard the drumming of footsteps as the newcomer made his way downstairs. Turning to see who had joined the party, I watched as the man stopped dead in his tracks and his face paled. Blinking, he narrowed his eyes, then pointed at me while looking at Sebastian.
“Where the fuck did you find her?”
“In Mobile,” Sebastian admitted, throwing the whip onto the table before reaching for a chilled bottle of water.
“Have you fucked her?”
Sebastian threw his head back and laughed. “Many times. Pussy is still tight if you want a go.”
“Get rid of her now.”
“Why?”
“She’s a Baudelaire.”
For the first time since I’d known Sebastian, I watched as he froze, his face paled ashen, and if I was correct, the man looked like he wanted to piss himself. Slowly shaking his head, he turned to look at me, then back at the newcomer and asked, “Are you sure?”
“She looks just like that cunt,” the man sneered. “She has his fucking eyes!”
“FUCK!” Sebastian roared, raking his hands down his face. “Help me get rid of her.”
“Fuck that. I did my part already. I don’t know how you found her, but you need to get rid of her fast before Jane figures out she’s alive.”
“Fuck, I have to be in California by this evening for that meeting with Petrovitch.”
“Fucking lock her up somewhere and order the men to steer clear. As soon as you get back, dispose of her fast.”
Mr. Capribella’s face twisted with rage and fear as he realized the gravity of his situation. “I’ll take care of it. Get out of my sight, George, and make sure no one breathes a word of this. Understand?” The man nodded and turned to leave, his eyes never leaving me.
Mr. Capribella’s grip on my arm tightened as he dragged me deeper into the dungeon. “You hear that, Bethany? You’re a dead woman walking. No one will come for you, and no one willever find your body. You’re mine forever.” His words sent a chill down my spine, but I refused to show my fear.
I had no idea what the hell they were talking about, but I knew how to read the writing on the wall. My time was limited, and I needed an exit plan quickly.
I just never thought my chance at freedom would come a few days later.
The Nebraska night pressed down; a suffocating blanket woven from darkness as a rasping breath escaped my broken ribs. Each inhale felt like a seared brand, each exhale a whispered prayer to a God who seemed awfully silent tonight. My vision, distorted by swollen eyes and the grit of the earth kicked up in my frantic flight, offered only a fleeting glimpse of the star-strewn sky—a cruel mockery of the freedom I craved.
They were still behind me. I could feel the thrum of their pursuit in the earth itself. My swollen eyes, blurred with tears and the encroaching darkness, disabled my vision as I barely registered the waving stalks of corn that clawed at my clothes as I ran. My legs screamed in protest and pumped with a desperate energy I didn’t know I possessed. They carried me through the tall, swaying stalks of corn. They seemed more like a sea of rustling shadows that both hid and betrayed me. The motions of the field felt like someone was breathing heavily around me, almost as if its very essence was a malevolent presence mirroring the terror that choked me. Each step was a victory, a defiance against the crushing weight of my injuries and the terror that threatened to overwhelm me. The pain wasn’t just physical. It was a deep, gut-wrenching sorrow that coiled around my heart, a bitter taste mirroring the rancid taste of blood in my mouth.I stumbled, my knee catching on a hidden rock, and my world tilted.
The field stretched on, an endless expanse of whispering stalks under the vast, indifferent sky. I imagined myself as a figure in one of those old pioneer stories, a woman fleeing a relentless, unknown evil. But this wasn’t a story; this was my life, raw and brutal. I wondered if this was how the settlers felt, running from starvation, from the unforgiving land itself, or from something far worse, something that hunted in the shadows. Fear was a physical entity. An icy hand that squeezed the breath from my lungs.
A sharp pain lanced through my side, a searing reminder of the brutality I’d already endured. I gritted my teeth, and forced myself to move, to run faster, driven by an instinct older than civilization itself: survival. I could feel my strength ebbing, each breath a battle, each step a monumental effort. With a guttural cry that tore from my broken lungs, I pushed myself forward.
Fear, I realized, could manifest in ways beyond the mundane as I accepted that my broken body nor the cruel hands of my attackers did not decide my fate, but by the capricious whim of this extraordinary, horrifying night in Nebraska.
The moon, a thin silver sickle, offered little comfort as I stumbled through the field, my lungs burning with each desperate gasp for air. The cornstalks, once a comforting rustle in the breeze, now seemed to hiss with malicious intent. My heart hammered in my ears, a frantic drumbeat urging me onward. I dared not look back, knowing those headlights still pursued, their malevolent glare a beacon of my impending doom. The ground beneath my feet, once a familiar friend, now felt like a treacherous enemy, conspiring with my injuries to bring me to my knees. But I pushed on, driven by a force deeper than my fear. A primal urge to outrun the darkness that threatened to consume me.
A sharp turn led me to a small creek, its waters glinting faintly in the moonlight. I plunged into its cool embrace, the current a soothing balm on my battered body. The water offered a momentary refuge, a brief respite from the relentless pursuit. I allowed myself a moment’s pause, my chest heaving as I fought to steady my breath. The silence was fleeting; the night suddenly ruptured with the sound of my pursuers drawing nearer. With a surge of adrenaline, I dragged myself from the creek and continued my flight.
