Chapter 2
Liz drags herself across the floor, fighting back the bile clawing its way up her throat.
She tries to get as far as possible from the puddle of piss the last guy left, but she can only make it so far before the cuff around her wrist forces her to give up.
She knew she shouldn’t have fought back the last time.
She was warned what would happen if she continued to fight but, against her better judgment, she decided pissing him off was worth the beating.
If only she had seen the chains first, she may have made a better choice.
The loud pop of gunshots ring out in the distance causing Liz to flinch, the rusted metal of the too tight cuff slicing deeper into her wrist from the sudden movement.
It was a typical night: some pissed off man came in, took their anger out on her as usual, and then shooting started.
She thought some idiot made the mistake of trying to escape and paid for it with their life or the shit hole’s limp-dick leader was throwing a temper tantrum.
When the man put down his knife and ran out, she knew something was wrong.
Two more gunshots, so synced it almost sounded as one, echoes down the hall, ripping her from her thoughts.
Someone is firing a little too close to the cells for her liking, confirming her suspicions this isn’t a normal night.
The telltale sound of bodies hitting the floor has her propping herself upright, trying to save what little strength she still has. Something is happening in the compound and this may be her best chance to escape.
The man in the cell next hers starts screaming for someone to help him, like anyone here would care about letting him out. If they go down, they sure as hell aren’t going to take the prisoners with them.
Liz opens her mouth to tell him no one is coming to save them when she hears the heavy cell doors opening. It starts at the end of the hall, and she starts counting.
Six… seven… eight.
Closer and closer until the ninth door opens.
The man who was screaming starts thanking the gods, meaning hers is next.
She only has a few seconds to think, to figure out who is here and what they want.
No more shots have been fired, at least not where the prisoners are kept.
Are they taking hostages? It seems like the only logical answer.
“I’m not letting these assholes take me,” she says to herself.
Liz reaches for the small, jagged bone she’s been hiding in the crack of the floor under her tattered wool blanket, part of the last real meal she had.
If you could call a single, boiled chicken leg and a spoonful of rice a meal.
Their newest form of torture, withholding food until she’s too weak to fight back, only giving her enough food to stay alive.
Lucky for her, they were so busy gossiping about what they had planned, they didn’t even notice the bone was missing.
Liz spent every moment she had grinding it into the concrete floor, sharpening it to a point that would easily pierce her captor’s neck.
Slow, heavy footsteps echo down the hall, approaching the cell.
Something is very wrong. For months, Liz has listened to the steps of everyone who would come into her cell, learning what each person sounds like, and those aren’t the steps of anyone who’s come before.
Gripping the bone so hard her knuckles turn white, trying her best to hide it, she silently makes sure she has room to swing.
This was meant for him. If he was going to kill her, she was going to make sure he suffered the same fate.
Her anger builds knowing she will never get that chance. The locks on the door disengage and the heavy metal groans open. Liz closes her eyes and tries to slow her breathing. All she needs is this man to get close enough to make her move.
“Are you alright?” His voice is deep and scratchy like he’s been yelling, yet somehow, it’s almost comforting. “Can you walk?” he asks, taking a few small steps toward her.
Another man starts shouting from somewhere down the hall, urging him to hurry.
Liz takes a small, slow breath, desperate to keep her fear at bay.
She has been held prisoner for months, she knew what to expect from the men holding her.
These men are new, and the thought of what they may do to her sends a shiver down her spine.
Her cell was the last in the hall, meaning they have taken all the others out.
Her mind races, her heart matching its rhythm.
Where are they taking everyone? Did they just kill them? Who are these men and why are they here?
The man steps closer, his footsteps growing louder.
If she dared to open her eyes, she would be face to face with a pair of bloody boots.
The smell of iron and dirt making her fight back vomit all over again.
Suddenly, a second set of footsteps approaches her cell, much faster than the man standing before her.
“She’s dead, just leave her. We need to move,” the second man says, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “Reaper, they are waiting on us,” the same man says, much more firmly this time.
Reaper? Oh yeah, this man is definitely just here to finish me off. she thinks to herself. All she needs is for him to bend down and she will make him meet the inspiration behind his little nickname.
“She’s still breathing, weak, but alive. Could be drugged,” the first man, Reaper, responds.
“She’s barely hanging on. She’s out cold. Even if she wasn’t, look at her. She is too weak to walk herself out. You need to let this one go, sir. You’ll die if you don’t leave her.”
“You know I can’t do that. Even the ones they killed weren’t beaten this bad. Go without me, I’ll catch up. I’m not leaving her here.” Reaper uses a tone that says his decision is not up for debate. “What the hell did they do to you?” he whispers, more to himself than anything.
Her breathing slows, trying to calm her nerves so she can do what needs to be done.
When the scratchy blanket she’s laying on moves, and she feels him pick up her hand, Liz realizes she needs to see what is happening.
Slowly, her eyes open, assessing the situation as fast as she can.
The man towers over her, even crouching down.
He tugs at the short chain connected to the cuff on her wrist, just long enough for her to move to the bucket they so graciously left her to relieve herself, not long enough to allow her to fully stand.
He silently mutters to himself about needing to break the chain.
Her eyes snap shut before he catches her watching.
It takes all the mental strength she has not to yank her arm away, every movement has the cold metal cuff sliding against her already torn skin.
Liz is forced to look one more time, trying to find a weak spot.
As she scans his body, she notices guns strapped to his denim-clad legs, a knife the size of her arm across his bulletproof vest, and a large rifle slung over his back.
She drags her eyes to his face, only to see he’s wearing some type of mask.
It looks like a skull, but where the teeth should be there are something like fangs reaching to the bottom of his face, and two horns extending off the top.
Finally, she sees what she was looking for; there is a small spot on his shoulder not covered by his vest. It may not kill him, but it should buy her a few seconds to run.
A moment later, he pulls at the chain holding her to the floor, sending little shards of concrete into her hair.
She’s free. It’s time. She takes a deep breath and starts counting.
One…
Two…
Three…
She opens her eyes, letting out the breath she had been holding, when his eyes snap to hers.
“Shit,” Liz squeaks.
“Hey, you’re safe, I’m going to get yo—” is all he can get out before she swings at him with every ounce of strength she has left.
He screams and Liz feels a warm, sticky liquid pooling around her hand. She keeps her grip, pulling the now slick chicken bone straight down, causing as much damage as she can. She wills her useless legs to stand, the feel of his skin tearing sends a wave of nausea through her.
The man stumbles back and Liz scrambles to her feet. One look at the gash in his shoulder sends her over the edge and all the vomit she had been trying to keep in comes rushing up. He doesn’t give her time to be sick before he’s on her.
“Did you just fucking stab me?” he screams, looking down at his shoulder.
He grabs the chain still attached to her with one hand, her free hand in his other, before slamming her into the wall. If he wasn’t still supporting both her arms, she would have collapsed from the impact.
“LET GO OF ME!” she screams, trying to tear herself away. “I’ll fucking die before I let you take me,” she tells him, throat raw from the near constant screaming.
He drops her arms and she stumbles toward him, not used to being on her feet after being chained to the ground so long.
She musters as much energy as she can and tries to rush around him, desperate to be free, but she’s too weak. She foolishly tries to shove past him, and he grabs her, throwing her back onto the floor. Her skull cracks against something hard.
“Fucking asshole,” she whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear.
This man is easily over six feet tall, solid muscle, and obviously highly trained. Meanwhile, she’s been chained to a floor, beaten, and starved for weeks, not thinking about their differences before deciding to fight him off. She starts to stand and he steps toward her.
“I’m trying to fucking help you!” he yells at her, a mix of panic and fear in his eyes.
She can barely hear him over the ringing in her ears.
Somehow, she manages to stand, ignoring the black spots taking over her vision.
He takes another step and she starts swinging, trying to do anything she can to make it to that door.
He easily steps around her flailing arms, but she doesn’t stop, using every last bit of energy she has just to keep from passing out.
“Enough!” he yells. He grabs one of her arms to try and stop her attacks.
She sends her other arm at his face, trying to do anything she can to hurt him. Screaming in frustration when a loud bang from the hall draws his attention, distracting him long enough for her fingers to brush against the mask. The horns on top may be strong enough to impale him again.
She stretches her arm, determined to rip his mask off his face. He’s holding her arm just far enough to make her struggle to reach. When her fingers curl around a small ridge on the side, she pulls. She’s so determined she doesn’t even see his fist swinging at her.
Her head snaps back at the impact, and she falls, pain radiating through her body. She watches helplessly as he bends down, pulling her into his arms. Her eyes flutter closed before everything fades to black.