11. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Olivia
I am going to die. A monster is going to kill me. It’s just a mask, I remind myself. Whoever he is, he went to great lengths to hide his identity. Terror is like a blade. What if it’s Riccardo beneath that mask and fur? I cry out, the sound muffled by the rag in my mouth. I am so exhausted, but the thought of falling asleep fills me with anxiety. It doesn’t really matter who is beneath the fur, horns, and teeth, does it? I am in so much trouble. Death will still come and with it probably lots of pain as they try to get what they want from me. When I close my eyes, all I see is the face of the monster. A monster with very human eyes.
The desire to curl up and make myself as small as possible is overwhelming. It’s impossible though. My shoulders scream their agony with every little movement, the incessant ache in my joints a horrible constant. I fiddle once more with the binds on my wrists, my fingertips running along the edges of rope searching for a knot. Nothing. It’s useless, I am done for. All I can do now is pray that they are quick as tears leak from my eyes, running down my face to add to the dampness of the material around my jaw.
Has it been an hour? Minutes maybe? Somewhere nearby, music starts up, pulsing metal music, with its heavy beat that seems to rise through the floor, reaching and seeping through my shoes. To distract myself from the emptiness, I look around the room. It’s empty but full of a presence that makes me shiver. Shadow figures are painted on the walls, black murals of warped things with hollow eyes that seem to watch over me like guards. Not at all comforting.
My head jerks up as a new sound reaches me in the breaks of the music. It’s not a part of the song. A woman. My heart jumps in my chest as I strain to listen. Her cries carry out even over the beat of another song. Is there another captive here? Are they hurting her? My fingers seek a knot again, desperate for an escape. As the song dies down, the sounds give me pause. Her cries are more clear now, no longer distorted by the music, and change to something that makes me want to clamp my hands to my ears.
“Yes!” Rhythmic moaning. “Fuck me, please.” Bile rises in my throat at the sounds.
The next song builds and her words become indecipherable. My relief is dampened by how disturbed I am. Hearing someone in the throes of passion while I am tied up close to them is like a slap in the face of humanity. How dare they? I am on the brink of my death and yet they can find time for that? I feel sick to my stomach. Disgusted. Clearly, whoever I am dealing with is someone who gives very little shit about others.