Episode XVII| Torture
But now, in the darkness, the truth hovered like a curse on her tongue.
Her hands were bound behind her back, wrists tight against the restraints. Sweaty palms, tingling with the prickling sensation of pins and needles. It was like ants crawling up her skin. She knew what was coming. Death or a beating—those were the only two options.
Christie didn't need to wonder who her captor was. She knew all too well. But what unnerved her was the void, the absence of everything. She couldn't see, couldn't feel anything except the cold air against her skin, the unsettling realization that she was naked.
She strained to listen. The sound of dripping water echoed through the space, testing her patience. She tried calling out, her voice bouncing off walls she couldn't see. A storage container? No, the air wasn't metallic enough. She sniffed the air again. Burnt wood.
A low chuckle rolled through the darkness, a rumble that bounced off the unseen walls, amplifying as it traveled. The sound rippled through her body like a shockwave. She gasped. That laugh—it could only belong to one person.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. Smoke filled her lungs. The hickory scent was stronger now, tickling the back of her throat, making her cough. This must be part of his game.
Another chuckle. The sound seemed to fill the empty room, surrounding her, swallowing her whole.
Her breasts were exposed, her skin prickling from the cold air.
A flick—suddenly, her nipple was snapped, a sharp burst of pressure.
She gasped, her body jerking in response.
The other breast followed, the same flick, the same pressure, rough fingers toying with her.
She couldn't see him, but she knew what was hanging from them.
Her feet shifted uncomfortably. Warm water lapped at her toes. She jerked back reflexively, her heels not finding purchase on the floor. Anxiety slithered in, wrapping around her like a vice. Where was she? What was in this water?
Something brushed against her foot. She cried out, kicking wildly. Her mind raced. What was that?
Another sensation—a slithering, wet motion. More than one.
Her mind fractured, reason slipping away. Irrationality took over, dragging her down into a spiral of terror. She tried kicking back, hoping to land on her backside, but her body failed her.
And then—a shock.
Finally, the current released her. Her body collapsed, trembling, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She vomited, the acidic bile burning her thighs as it pooled on her skin.
Her mouth hung open, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Her feet were placed back on the floor, the cold returning, though her body was still limp, unable to resist or move. She panted, the sound harsh and ragged, echoing in the empty room.
She leaned forward, her body rebelling again, more bile threatening to rise.