Chapter 27
It’s hard to know if she sleeps. There are times when she’s not even certain she’s awake.
The flesh of her back aches, the only reminder that she’s still alive at all.
Time passes without meaning, tied up and sensory deprived the way she is on the cold hard floor. Every moment is some form of tragic hell, dragging on like glass in her feet.
Every second that crawls by leaves her wondering what she’ll have done to her next. The bastards have her as helpless as a bug and there’s absolutely nothing she can do to stop them. A whimper escapes her lips; how could anyone choose this? Those poor vacant souls seeking to suffer, thinking this is what they deserve, all for some cash? How could ‘X’ have even considered wanting this?
She’s going to be twisted, beaten, and burned into something wretched here, in this place that reeks of abrasive cleaning chemicals and bleach. The stench of lost hope and ignored pleas.
No, don’t think like that. The cops will solve this soon. Maybe they’ll find you before you get turned into something you don’t recognize.
Kara entertains herself with plots and plans, thinking of how she’ll manage to save herself from a terrible fate. Perhaps the sick bastards will make a mistake. Maybe they’ll forget to tie her up tight enough, maybe she’ll find a way to get her hands free, to rip off the stupid goggles and earpieces that prevent her from seeing and hearing.
But these people are professionals. They’ve been doing this for a long time, taking people unawares, people that others won’t miss, mutilating them for their gory torture videos, selling those on the dark web for untold costs.
Blackmailing politicians. The rich. The powerful.
These sorts of people don’t make mistakes, do they?
She’s been lying in her own filth for longer than she wants to admit. It’s not as if her captors have been taking the best care of her, no, they’ve been giving her the real prisoner treatment in their deluxe torture hotel. There’s piss drying on her jeans and Kara wants to run away from her own body. She feels vile and violated. The taste of vomit still echoes on her tongue, bitter.
She doesn’t hear the door open, but she feels when someone stands over her, their booted feet kicking at her ankles. Ah , they’re back for more of her. This is the third time the sick bastards have collected her from her solitude.
Last time, they tied her in terrible contortions and ran a lash over her breasts. Not hard enough to split her flesh, but enough to leave red marks for the camera’s lustful eye.
Kara kicks out viciously and bares her teeth, as if her waning fire will keep away the monster that she can’t see.
Her foot makes contact with something, probably a knee, so she kicks again, but this time a firm set of hands takes hold of her ankle. Big gloved hands, yanking ruthlessly, damn near yanking her foot out of its socket.
Oh, how easily she is physically overpowered. Rage is quickly doused in the icy waters of terror. Brave as she may be, Kara doesn’t want more pain. She’s had plenty of time to imagine the horrible things they might do to her and she wants none of it.
She barely recognizes the hoarse sound of her own voice. It sounds flayed from screaming. “No, no no. Not again. Don’t hurt me again! I didn’t ask for this, why did you bring me here-”
There’s no answer that she can hear. There never is. Just silence and physical brutality, as if she’s meaningless. Like she’s an animal.
Forced to her feet very suddenly, ankle shackles removed, Kara feels hands going to her ears, pulling the noise cancelers away, revealing a sound far more horrible. The noise of the place hits her, as if she’s just stepped into hell itself. The screaming . Someone not too far away is making sounds that Kara hasn’t heard another person make before and it makes her guts feel watery.
“Oh, God.” She whispers the words, mouse-like, wanting to vanish into a hole.
There’s no response, but she is dragged away. She does her best to keep up, lest she fall to the ground and get dragged on her face the entire way to her next torment. The woman being tormented currently is wailing so loudly that Kara fears she’ll never be able to unhear the sound.
What are they doing to her? What sort of wretched video are they making of that poor soul? And what sick bastard is going to buy it?
There’s a rusted, creaking noise as a door is opened just in front of Kara. She feels the space open in front of her, rather than seeing it. She’s pushed forward, thrown up against a wall so hard that her bones creak with the impact.
Kara tries to protect herself, but it’s hard to do with her hands still tied behind her back, numb and cold. She lost circulation some time ago.
There’s another odd noise that sounds like a faucet-
Ice cold water blasts her without warning and Kara shrieks at the contact. It’s better than being beaten, but the shock of it rattles her system.
Within moments, she’s soaked like a drowned rat, suffering the dehumanizing hosing they are subjecting her to. She feels like an animal. At least she can feel the filth being washed away, just so they can make her filthy again. Perhaps it’s preferable that the video ‘performers’ look clean before torment?
She crouches down and ducks her head, trying to seem small. She doesn’t want to be here, she doesn’t want to die in this place-
You won’t die , she thinks with a hint of insanity. They will never let you see their faces. This place. Or anything. And they’ll set you free as a ruined, haunted thing.
Her teeth chattering with terror, Kara’s captors drag her across the slick tiles like a piece of unwanted baggage. They are walking again, boots echoing on the floor as Kara is marched away, soaking wet. Perhaps they will try waterboarding her today?
Maybe electric torture?
Maybe-
Another door opens and fresh air hits her face, the smell of it like the bells of heaven ringing, taking her away from the scent of suffering and doom. The air prickles her bare skin until someone finally puts a material over her shoulders. It’s thin, but it allows for some warmth, standing there in her bra and jeans.
A door shuts behind her, locking away the broken screams.
Kara feels her heart racing. This is new.
Maybe this is it? Maybe they’ll shoot her in an alley and leave her body to be found-
A hand settles on the small of her back and guides her forward, a different sort of hand. Not the ones that she has become accustomed to, the cruel hands in those big utility gloves. The sound of a car door opening reaches her, just as she is helped inside.
Ah, not a shady rapist van this time? She cannot seem to stop her body from trembling. Another blanket is placed over her, tucked under her soaked jeans. How oddly kind. It doesn’t make sense. Are they done with her?
A seatbelt is politely put into place across her chest. The door closes. Muffled sounds of voices reach her ears, angry, hissed words.
The engine starts and the car begins to move.
Kara’s heart races, wondering what hell awaits her now. Someone is sitting next to her in what must be the backseat. She can hear them softly breathing, a sound she latches onto. It’s a normal sound and it isn’t pain.
A whimper dies in her throat as she struggles to say, “Are you going to kill me now?”
No one answers.