Chapter 4 – Delphine
Chapter Four
Delphine
I scream bloody murder because if I'm going to go out like this, I won't make it easy on my killer.
It's crazy how my True Crime obsession didn't pay off in the slightest. I claw my way through the blankets screaming like a coyote, absolutely desperate to free myself since this idiot kidnapper didn't even get my wrists and ankles bound up.
"What the fuck?" a deep male voice from the other side of the blankets says, heightening my fear.
I scream and rip at the fabric until moonlight spills through, giving me a direction to fight in.
Just when I catch that first breath of cool evening air, large arms wrap around my waist, trapping me in the blanket again.
My next scream is ungodly, but unfortunately knocks all the damn air out of my lungs. OH hell no! I gasp and nothing comes in. No air. Nothing. I kick my legs and hit a solid wall of person.
"Stop fighting. Fighting won't help," the deep voice says again.
Has this kidnapper lost his damn mind? Why the hell would I stop fighting when it's clear -- I'm cooked. This man is going to kill me. Slaughter me. I'm going to bleed out in a nasty ass basement and–
"HELP!" I scream. "HELP!"
A large hand finds my mouth way too easily under the blankets and now I really can't breathe. I make muffled, desperate sounds for a few seconds and then either lack of oxygen or pure terror knocks me out again. Fuck.
I wake up to that loud deep voice again.
"YOU KIDNAPPED SOMEONE? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"
"I haven't lost my mind," a familiar woman's voice pierces through the dark foggy unconscious. Pretty voice... Who is that, again?
"I solved your problem."
"I'm supposed to get her pregnant?"
The tone of voice behind that 'her' is objectively offensive. Though, I can't imagine the alternative would be any better considering the line of conversation.
"She signed the contract. She needs the money and you need the baby. What's the problem?"
"YOU ARE CRAZY!" the man yells. I freeze in place.
Any part of me that exists in the waking world knows better than to draw attention to myself while this maniac rants and raves.
I have never met a grown man in my entire life who could throw my 200 lbs ass over his shoulders and carry me into his home.
I'm in big time danger.
"I'm not crazy, Luigi. I am solution oriented. Just take her into your bedroom and feel the chemistry flow."
"I don't even know what she looks like."
"She's cute. Nice butt."
"I'm going to kill you," Luigi hisses. "Then I'm going to kill myself."
"Then nobody gets the money. Are you dumb?"
"I am still going to kill you."
"Take her to your bedroom or she's going to escape and tell the cops."
"Great. We can go together and make sure you end up in FEDERAL PRISON."
"You are such a dramatic baby. This isn't your first felony."
"I PREPARE for my crimes, Angela. FUCK!"
"Your negative energy is ruining my mood. I'm going to take a shower."
"What am I supposed to do with–”
She interrupts him, "Figure it out. I'm not giving my older brother the sex talk."
"Get out," he snarls, his voice so low and dangerous that a chill runs straight down my spine. To make matters worse, I hear the woman strutting away, leaving me alone under the blanket in some creepy house with an even creepier and more terrifying man.
I slowly reach for my face beneath the blanket, praying that my glasses stayed on my face throughout this hellish ordeal. By the time my fingers reach my nose, my kidnapper snatches the blanket away, exposing me and the crazy situation I somehow ended up in.
My stomach lurches as I face my kidnapper for the first time.
My breath whooshes out of my lungs and no more comes in.
I freeze against this gigantic leather couch as I stare up at the tall man from the bar.
Angela's brother. What the fuck? I can feel my eye muscles straining as I stare at him in what looks to be a cabin living room.
Random details about the room rush into my head as my brain tries to make sense of my environment with adrenaline pumping through my veins. My nails sink into the leather fabric and he scowls at me with a look that I can only describe as dissatisfaction.
What the hell? Even the man who kidnapped me holds me in a contemptful, disrespectful gaze. My nausea worsens.
"This was a mistake."
I throw the blankets away from me and send a stack of five A4 pages flying around the room. He glares at me and then points an accusatory index finger at me, like I asked to come here.
"Don't move."
I nod and gulp mouthfuls of nothing until oxygen finally starts flowing back into my lungs.
I wasn't planning on moving suddenly. I felt what it was like to have this giant subdue me and if I want to escape, I'll need a lot more of a head start.
This man picked me up like I was weightless and that is. .. not how I identify my size.
He snatches up the sheets of paper from the floor and glares down at the font, too small for me to read from this distance and through the back of the paper.
I just try to breathe. I'll get out of this.
Despite his disappointment, the maniac hasn't shot and killed me yet.
I don't remember anything after that shot of whiskey and even that feels cloudy.
Even in a state of utter terror, the mental fog surrounding me feels thick, like I'm still fighting off sleep. Or more likely... drugs. But I don't do drugs .
He snarls at me with one lip curled up in outright disgust once he's done scanning the documents.
"You signed this?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I look this man straight in the eye, but then I catch sight of a door behind him. An exterior door, I think. Not a bedroom door. Once my gaze locks on the possible exit, all other thoughts leave my head, including common sense.
I have breath in my lungs, an exit in sight... and I don't know what those papers are or why he's questioning me. I just want to run. Luigi - I'm pretty sure that's his name - glances down again at the stack of papers and I take my one crazy shot at escape, even if I don't know where I am.
When you go to a second location with a kidnapper, your chances of survival decrease to pretty much zero. Any shot at escape is better than staying here. I launch my ass up from the couch. Dizziness from the liquor or the drugs nearly sends me straight back down, but I have adrenaline on my side.
I shoot past Luigi towards the door behind him, sprinting as fast as my heavy ass legs can carry me. My palms thud against the wooden door as I make it and then the jittery adrenaline makes my hands shake too much as I fumble around for the handle.
He's still after me. I hear two heavy footsteps behind me.
I grab the door handle and throw the door open.
I'm too fucking terrified to look behind me and I don't want to lose my tiny head start.
Before I take one step out of the door into the rural environment I find myself in, a large pair of arms fly around my waist. I scream loudly as Luigi yanks me back into his house, snatching my hopes of freedom away from me at the last second.
"I said don't move," he snarls as his grasp on me tightens.
He throws me back into the house forcefully and I stumble backwards, nearly falling over but landing against a table in the entryway instead as Luigi shuts the door, locks the deadbolt and turns to look at me with pure fury all over his dangerous, outraged face.