Chapter 26
Without warning, a hood is placed over her head, casting her vision into darkness.
A wordless scream of terror bursts from her lips as a hard body comes up behind her, arms snaking around her, a heavily gloved hand clamping over her mouth. She hears their heavy breathing and the sound of a car pulling up beside them, a van door sliding open-
No!
Horror spirals into her mind, flaying it apart. She’s being abducted .
She’s yanked into a van, the door sliding shut violently as she thrashes for her life, kicking and screaming. “Let go of me, you bastard! Let go, I’ll fucking kill you-”
A strange smelling cloth is placed over her nose and mouth. Even through the thin fabric of the hood, she can’t help but inhale it, sending her mind slowly into a strange fuzziness. Everything slows, and if she could see, she imagines her vision would be swimming with black dots.
Weak and desperate, Kara tries to fight sleep as it comes for her with open arms.
No, no no no-
And then there’s nothing.
The chemical haze in her mind clouds Kara’s thoughts. Distantly, she remembers she should be terrified, but the emotion is still so far away. Unreachable . Her insides are sludge, her mouth a ratty cotton. God, she’s so thirsty and her head is pounding.
She can’t see. Something bulky covers her eyes. A dull twinge of fear nags at her harder, scratching like claws on a door in the dead of night. Kara can’t move her hands, can’t move her legs-
Why can’t I move?
Stay calm, stay calm.
She struggles harder, straining uselessly against whatever restrains her.
A whimper slips past her lips and she hates herself for that. She’s helpless; this is how people disappear.
Her breathing turns panicked and her nose burns with the harsh scent that surrounds her. It’s a terrible, abrasive smell of antiseptic, mixed with something that reeks of copper in the undercurrent. An odor that makes her feel dizzy. It smells like a place that someone has repeatedly dumped cleaning supplies over in an attempt to hide something far worse.
Kara has an idea what that ‘far worse’ is and it’s something she wants no part of. Worms of fear wriggle in her guts. The chemicals sedating her are wearing off.
Her ears are clogged up; there must be something in them, dulling her hearing. She strains to listen to her surroundings, but there’s only a faint droning sound, like a fan moving far away. Muffled noises that could be anything . Fear continues to compound as she lies there completely defenseless.
She can’t see. She can’t run. She can’t fight . Whoever has taken her has all the power to do whatever they want with her. There’s nothing Kara can do to stop them.
The waiting feels like an eternity of sinking in quicksand. There’s no telling how long she lies there consumed by the terrors in her own mind. Trapped. Time has no meaning in this place.
Ha . She thinks that ‘X’ might have mentioned something like that, but Kara can’t remember for certain.
So, she waits and waits and waits, the ache in her tied wrists increasing, the arm she’s lying on goes numb, and the idea that no one is going to let her go to the bathroom soon rears its ugly head. Of course, no one is going to help her, these people live on torment and humiliation!
Why did they take me? Kara wonders desperately. What triggered them to come after me? Was I too close to figuring something out? Was it because I was going to speak to the police? The PI call? It doesn’t make sense. Was I really bugged?
None of it makes sense, but she’s going nowhere fast.
She could have been in this wretched place for hours already. Even a day. It’s impossible to know with the drugs in her system.
And so, there’s no warning when it happens. Nothing to prepare Kara at all when her pained solitude shatters.
Large hands grab her tied ankles and Kara thrashes instinctively like some sort of violent worm as fierce, red-tinted fear splashes behind her covered eyes. There’s not much she can do, hog tied the way she is, but dammit, she’s going to try. A scream rips out of her throat as she’s viciously dragged away, her head smacking into what must be the door jam on the way to whatever hell she’s being dragged to.
Her shirt shifts as she’s dragged across the tile, her bare skin exposed, her tied hands aching and jolting with pain at the uncomfortable position. God, where are they taking her, what are they going to do-
“What do you want, motherfucker?!” Kara shouts, her throat feeling rough and dry. Her voice sounds like it’s underwater and she wonders if she would even be able to hear a response. She suspects her kidnappers don’t care to speak to her. They plugged her ears after all.
“Don’t do this, I didn’t ask to be here,” Kara barely hears herself beg. If this is The Room, they take people who are looking for the abyss, don’t they? That’s how they get their video victims, right? Well, she didn’t ask for this, so why is she here? How did they pick her?
Nearly wiggling out of their hard grasp, Kara snarls and screams wordlessly in terror and outrage, blending into something near untenable. The need to survive is maddening, screeching in her mind like a car crash.
They may have covered her eyes, restrained her and put plugs in her ears, but they left her mouth ungagged. They want to hear her screams. These sick bastards.
Her skin feels raw and burnt as she’s dragged further to some endless destination of doom. Kara’s imagination runs wild, thinking up every horrible thing they might be planning to do with her.
In The Room…it could be just about any sort of mutilation.
Suddenly, they stop moving, signaling to Kara that they have reached their destination. Her bowels turn liquid, knowing this is where the real pain starts. She’s maneuvered to her knees, a large gloved hand on her shoulder, keeping her down and in place. Kara senses rather than sees someone else moving around the space, feels the breeze of them walking past on her face.
The scent of sweat, antiseptic, and faded aftershave. An aroma of despair.
She tries to bite at the arm near her, but she is rewarded with a vicious yank on her hair and a slap across the face that rattles her brain.
The shackles around her ankles are hooked to something that keeps her legs locked in place on the ground as she kneels on the hard floor. She can’t move her legs out of position, not even if she wanted to. Trapped, like an animal. It’s straight out of a terrible movie, like a soldier about to be interrogated by the enemy, but in a fashion against the Geneva Convention.
The man in charge of her body positions her how he wants, slapping her forcefully whenever she disobeys or moves, pain burning across her cheekbone after a few repeated blows. Kara realizes with a sick feeling that they are preparing to video her for some monsters to watch and get their jollies off to…they are trying to set the scene before they get started on her.
Even though she cannot see, Kara imagines a camera being set up, someone seeking the perfect lighting. A man viewing her through a lens just so, looking for the best angle to drink down her torment.
She gags, dry heaving, but nothing comes up. Her body begins trembling uncontrollably. With her vision blocked and her legs shackled, there’s nowhere for her to go.
After a few moments of waiting, Kara feels her hands being untied from behind her back. The discomfort of blood rushing back into her digits is excruciating. Hot pins and needles. She wonders if they are videotaping the tears running down her face.
She hates that they can see her this way. Weak.
Shaking, she tries rubbing sensation back into her hands, shoulders hunched up, ready for anything. They’ve done this for a reason and it can’t be good. Oh, please don’t rip off my fingernails , she thinks desperately. Don’t shove hot needles under them like you did to X.
Without warning, those large gloved hands grab her own and place them over a new object in front of her, having her feel the strange, smooth, thin object. Dread is ice down her spine; they are having her feel the tool of torment they are going to use on her!
“You monsters,” she utters hatefully, tasting the salt of her tears.
As she feels the hard object for a few seconds more, Kara feels her body begin to shake and tremble ever harder, a sob working its way up her throat with realization. It’s a cane. They’re going to cane her and they’re going to videotape her while they do it, zoom in on her face and eat up her screams-
“Please don’t.” Her voice breaks. She can’t help but think of how she used to beg her father to not beat her when she messed up dinner. The way his belt felt-
“Please don’t,” she repeats like a broken record, body shaking violently.
She can’t do this. She can’t-
Not a single word is spoken to her, as if she isn’t even human. She’s just a thing, an object.
Something cold is placed against her cheek as she continues to beg, making her go silent. When her mind catches up with what it is, she freezes in place. It’s a knife. Holding still, she feels it travel away from her face, oh God, are they going to cut her ? It travels to her throat and she imagines the spray of blood that would follow if they just slit her throat on camera for a true snuff film.
Who says they won’t? We have no idea if they’ve killed people before on these videos.
The tip of the knife catches on the neck of her shirt momentarily before it begins to rip through, tearing it open, exposing her heaving chest to their view…and the camera. They leave her bra, small favors. “I didn’t know what color lingerie you wanted, so I kept it c-classic,” Kara utters with attitude, voice shivering.
There’s a noise that filters through the earplugs; perhaps cruel laughter.
A chill takes her, making the hair stand up on her arms as she shivers in humiliation, waiting for her awful fate to continue forward. Nothing happens for a few minutes, but she can feel something get close, as if a camera is being panned around her body, getting intimate with all her angles.
Sickos.
Then, it begins.
The first strike upon her flesh nearly blanks her entire mind of thought and reason. The air vanishes in her lungs so quickly that she cannot even scream. The next attack happens so quickly that Kara falls to her hands, barely holding herself up.
It feels like being hit with a sharp hammer, licks of fiery pain across her spine.
After a moment, the pain subsides and no more attacks are made upon her form. She knows they are waiting, trying to make her relax just enough before they strike again, probably zooming in with the camera to get her best side.
A blaze of pain erupts across her spine.
A scream finally rips free of her throat, dragging its claws up her esophagus painfully. Again and again, she is struck brutally with the cane, with the technique of someone who knows where to hit and when, how to best draw agony but not to cause serious damage. At least, not too soon.
“Stop, stop, please stop! ” Kara screeches as she writhes, trapped under the onslaught.
She feels something warm and wet drip from her back.
Blow after blow falls upon her until it almost becomes a blur, each strike blending into the pain of the next. Her screams crack as her throat gives out, raw and hoarse from the sheer volume of her tormented wails.
Time blurs. Her mind shifts and fractures, nearly numb with the strain of the situation. She’s certain she’s going to die. She almost wants to die, just to escape this punishment.
Charlie never beat her this hard, did he? She can’t remember. She can’t remember anything right now.
The next blow never falls, leaving her gasping and drooling on the stoney floor. She’s too weak to fight, to sit up. If they hit her again, she’s certain she’ll no longer care, she’ll simply leave herself.
Hands begin working at the shackles, unhooking her from the floor, her hands being bound once more. It appears her torture is over for now; this sick clip of a half-naked woman being caned as she screams is complete.
It’s a relief when the agony stops and she’s half carried, half dragged away. Her feet don’t work, tied as they are. Even if they weren’t tied, she doesn’t think she could stand, feeling weak with shock. Her flesh feels hot and cold.
She’s thrown to the floor unceremoniously in a heap, probably back in her original space. The dull ache of hitting the floor is nothing compared to the fire in her back. She imagines she’s black and blue, an ugly map of pain.
A dark thought finds its way to the bitter part of her mind . Stop sniveling, it’s nothing you haven’t experienced before .
Never this bad, Kara. Never this bad!
Her body trembles uncontrollably and she understands on some level that her body is in shock. It has been a very long time since she’s been whipped with anything like that.
It’s almost like being back home with Daddy, back then. Back in that cage you called a childhood.
Kara’s alone now, unbothered, untormented in this cell.
She doesn’t know if she’s in a room or a closet. Maybe it’s best that she can’t see her surroundings, because this place smells like death being covered up. Horrible impressions seep into her thoughts, leaving her imagining herself lying in a pile of old piss and blood from someone who came before.
And yet, that wouldn’t be right. These folks know how to clean up after themselves. They’re professionals . That’s how they move from one location to another so quickly.
There’s nothing left for her to do but sit and wait. Trapped with the horrors in her mind, wondering what torture awaits her next.
No one is ever going to find her.