Distraction #4
I examine her closely while she stands up from her chair.
She rubs the tacky surface of her arms left over from the tape.
Reluctantly, she stares at me closely when I move to the padlock attached to the door.
Her eyes pierce through me like lasers when the lock comes loose.
Being the tease that I am, I pull up the large door slowly.
Her body stiffens when she sees the small crack between the concrete and the door get larger.
“Once this door is open, you run,” I calmly instruct.
“If I catch you, then you’re back to being my pretty little plaything.
” Her gaze holds on the door, then it moves higher off the ground.
I watch her closely, as if the gears are turning in her head.
I wonder what she’s planning. Does she think she’ll make it out alive?
She won’t be able to escape. I’ll make sure that she doesn’t.
What if she does? What will happen then?
The poor thing won’t even make it past the gate.
Not in the state that she is now. “I must say that it’s a little disappointing how you’re so eager to leave. ”
The loud sound of the door sliding up reverberates in the public storage facility. She gawks at me and at the open space, dumbfounded.
“Well?” I ask. “I would start running if I were you.”
Her heels make loud clicking sounds on the concrete as she runs out of the unit. The countdown begins when I hear her shoes scuff along the long pathway of loose gravel. This will be fun.
“TEN!” My loud voice carries over her heavy panting. “NINE!”
I slowly turn around and look out of the small building.
“EIGHT!” I continue to yell as I step out onto the gravel.
“SEVEN.” I start making larger steps in the direction of the sounds of her breathing and the crunching of loose gravel beneath her tall heels.
“SIX!” My steps turn into quick jogs. Adrenaline is pumping into my veins as I pick up speed around the corners of the facility.
“YOU BETTER HOPE I CAN’T FIND YOU, PRETTY GIRL!” My loud voice booms through the rows of other storage units. I smile wildly and stop my pace when I hear the rattling of a metal chain-linked fence. I know exactly where you are.
“FIVE!” My heart picks up as I start running towards the locked fence around the property. There you are.
The look of sheer panic on her face when she twists her body around at her waist triggers my rush of adrenaline.
I stand back and watch as she unsuccessfully tries to climb her way out.
The front of her pointed heel gets caught in one of the links, and she slides down the middle of the fence.
I laugh as her body retreats into itself, the closer I get.
The poor thing sits awkwardly on the damp gravel.
She looks defeated. Good. Now it’s my turn .
“Four.” The volume of my voice lowers, and I walk closer, taking smaller steps. She moves back further into the gate, as if she’s trying to meld with the metal.
“Three.” Her tired cries become louder with every one of my steps.
“Two.” I count. She looks defeated, shaking with her head in her hands.
“One,” I stop and scan over the broken girl in front of me. “Oh, don’t look sad, baby. You did so well. Come on, a deal is a deal.” I crouch down and look into her wide, tear-filled, and terrified eyes. “Let’s go play.”
She screams so fucking loudly when I stand. Will she ever stop? I pull her along the gravel by the tufts of her long hair.
Her slender body goes limp after I throw her in the storage unit on the concrete floor. Once I see her body hit the hard surface, I turn around and slide down the red door. She lets out another small sob when she hears the clicking sound of the padlock closing.
I pick up her body and tie her to the metal folding chair just as I had before.
She knows she lost. “Oh, pretty girl. Don’t be sad.
” I do my best to comfort her while replacing the old zip ties I had cut from her ankles with new ones.
She flinches as I run my fingers up her calves.
“Why are you doing this to me?” She pleads for an answer.
Her body tenses with the tightening of the zip ties around the small parts of her limbs.
“Why does anyone do anything, pretty girl?” I tease, leaning on my knees behind her chair.
“I needed a distraction, and there you were. Just there for the taking. Like a shiny new toy for me to play with.” My eyes stay on hers while I stand up and walk backwards over to my chair.
Her eyes never leave me. She watches as I sit down and press my elbows on my thighs.
“What am I distracting you from?” She questions between her loud cries. “Was it an old girlfriend? Couldn’t we have just fucked and then never talked again like normal people?”
“Pretty girl, haven’t you realized? I’m not normal.”
"Well, no fucking shit!" she almost screams. Another sinful smile paints my face as I put my arms across my chest.
I shift my body in the chair when I feel my phone vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans. What the fuck is this about?
Thalia:
Hey, Alan.
No. Not her. Not now. She can’t do this to me. Not right now. I’m in the middle of something. Just when I was about to forget her.
“Fuck!” I scream. My pretty hostage startles as the loud exclamation bounces off the solid walls. Don’t answer her.
Me :
Hello, Listener.
Shit. I stand up and shove my phone back into my pocket, angrily pacing around the small space between my chair and the terrified girl in front of me.
“She can’t do this to me,” I yell. “She thinks she can have us both. She thinks she can fuck us both and that everything will just be okay!” I pause and take a long sigh.
Maybe she does care. “If she cared, she wouldn’t have been riding his dick,” I clap back to my own thoughts aloud.
Maybe she feels guilty. Maybe she didn’t know you cared so much.
“I told her what she meant to me. She knows how much she means to me,” answering my own thoughts again.
“What do you think?” I ask the confused and tormented girl in front of me.
“What…?” Her voice shakes.
“Do you think she loves me?” I impatiently wait for her response.
“Uhhh…” she stammers.
“Only one way to find out.”
I feel her eyes on me again while she watches me walk over to the array of basic tools sitting on my shelf.
I gently drag my fingers over the different handles.
The cold metal feels so heavy in my hand.
My body vibrates with anticipation when I feel the buzzing of the phone in my pocket for a second time.
Thalia:
I miss you
“Fuck!” I scream again, and I throw the phone down on the hard floor. She misses me. She loves me. “She doesn’t miss me. She’s just alone without Lee.”
The adrenaline rushes through me, and I quickly walk over to the chair across from the tripod.
She winces in pain as I rip the duct tape from her small wrists.
I feel the fear running through her, vibrating the metal chair on the hard floor.
“What do you think?” I ask again, looking into her terror-fueled expression.
She looks down at my large hands gripping the pliers in my hand.
Her much smaller hands are trembling on her lap.
“What are you doing?!” She cries as I grab one of her hands, isolating one of her fingers. She stares with her mouth agape as the flat surface of the jaw of the pliers slides under the tip of her short fingernail.
“What do you think, pretty girl?” I ask, still looking down at her black fingernail. “She loves me?”
She screams in agony as I pull on the tip and watch the nail detach from the tip of her index finger before moving to the next digit.
“She loves me not?” She screams again. Her body shakes violently in the chair. I move the pliers to her ring finger. “She loves me?”
“Please don’t do this!” She continues to cry loudly. She screams again when I pull hard on the handle. “Just stop! Please!” She begs. I set down the pliers and gently grab her face between both of my hands.
“Shhh. Pretty girl. Only one more.” Grabbing the tool again, I slide it beneath her pinkie nail.
I pull, and she lets out another scream.
“She loves me.” With much relief, I stand up as she sobs behind me.
A loud metallic sound fills the small space between us as the pliers fall from my hands and land on the floor.
I grab my phone out of my pocket and type out a quick text message to Thalia.
Me:
I miss you, too.
I slide my phone back into the back pocket of my jeans and turn around and look at the mess I made in front of me. She babies her injured hand with the other. Her face is covered in sweat, tears, and smeared black makeup.
“You look perfect. So ruined and so broken.” I remove her phone from the tripod and walk it closer to her to unlock it. The screen opens again before I set the phone on the tripod and find the camera app to start the recording all over.
“You asked me earlier what my name was. My name is Alan, pretty girl.” I press record and take the switchblade out of my pocket.
She panics as she watches me move in closer towards her chair.
For just a moment, I stand behind her shaking body.
With one hand, I hold her neck so her head faces the camera.
With the other, I press the blade up to her porcelain skin.
Her blood reflects off the mirrored edge of the knife, the deeper I press into her neck.
I watch and listen as she gasps for air.
Flowing like my own personal fountain, crimson floods down her pale chest. Her limp body falls forward, and her blood splashes on the concrete as if it were raining on the sidewalk.
I move towards the tripod and end the recording.
The cotton of my black shirt becomes useful as I wipe off the fingerprints on her phone case and place it neatly inside her small black purse.
“I’ve got the perfect place for you, pretty girl,” I tell the lifeless body in front of me.