Page 52 of Slaying for Santa
For some stupid reason, I think I have the power to send him that message telepathically, but I hope he knows I died trying. I died fighting for his little girl.
Hands and knees hold me down onto the grotty brown carpet, and I try to fight, but my limbs are just as heavy as my head.
Shit. Am I even still alive?
Snake appears over me, kneeling down with something in his hands.
“All the women beg. First it’s,no don’t drug me, and then it’splease give me more. You’re all the fucking same, only good for a warm hole to fuck and a mouth to abuse.” He nods to one of the brutes, and the next thing I know, my lips are being pried open by fat calloused fingers before Snake holds up the bottle of whiskey and starts pouring it into my mouth.
Tears spring from my eyes as I fight to keep my throatclosed, but the second someone pinches my nose, I know it’s useless.
Since I’m so good at breath play, I’m able to hold out longer than they must be used to, but Snake gets impatient, punching my gut, and I instantly start choking as the burn of the whiskey breaches my throat and goes down.
“No!” I cry as I hack, while the three of them fucking laugh. “Please stop! I’m sober.”
I choke on another cough as the three men stop laughing.
“Really?” Snake asks in surprise. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
If I thought he was going to be kind or understanding, then I’m dead fucking wrong, because with another nod, my arm stings with the prick of a needle, and I gasp, spotting the reddish contents disappear into my arm as Snake laughs.
“There we go,” he pat-slaps my face. “No longer sober. Now you don’t have to keep fighting it.”
Fuck.
No, no, no.
Nine hundred and twenty days wasted.
NO!
I struggle and fight against them, but they keep me in place, and I’m well aware they are doing it on purpose to let the drugs and alcohol take effect.
It was reddish in colour, so not something I recognise.
They talk amongst each other for a minute even while the two thugs hold me down, and a heavy rush starts to wash over me, making me feel so fucking good, but not enough that I don’t feel the weight of what’s just happened.
I cried from fear and panic earlier today, but now, as my silent tears fall, I cry because I’m absolutely gutted.
I’d worked so hard to get clean and stay clean. I may have picked up other unhealthy habits in place of my substanceaddictions, but in my defence, the people I slaughtered were all bad people. Paedophiles. Rapists. Women killers.
Serial killing bad people is less selfish than spending every waking moment seeking out my next hit of drugs.
The rush finally hits hard, and the bouncers release me, leaving me on the floor.
My eyes drag to my purse nearby, but as I reach for it, rough hands pick me up as Snake issues an order.
“Lock her up with the other one and keep checking on her. Any sign that the sedative is wearing off, start shooting her up with a Spaceball. If she’s an addict, she’s gonna need more than the typical bitch we steal off the streets.”
I try to open my eyes as the lightweight of bliss sends me soaring, and I don’t even think I’ll make it to where they intend to lock me up, as something close to heavenly death grips me, and everything goes black.
CHAPTER 17
BELL
The feel of cool,gentle fingers brush over my forehead, and the weighted fog starts to lift as I try but fail to pry my eyes open. I feel so heavy.
“Bell?”
