Chapter 33
Five days gone
As soon as night fell and she heard thudding footsteps on the stairs, Alexa knew that the captor was coming. This time, she knew that they would not stop at the door.
Immobilised by the chains, with no way to run free, Alexa started to scream. But when light from the hallway filled the white room, Alexa’s scream died in her mouth.
Time slowed as her captor was unveiled. Their appearance was more petrifying than Alexa’s worst nightmares could ever have imagined.
Dressed in all black, the captor looked like the kind of criminal who could seamlessly blend into the night. The absence of colour was foreboding, their thick gloves and chunky hoodie concealing any hints at their identity. But the mask they wore was the scariest part of the ensemble.
The person who clubbed Alexa Clarke over the head had chosen to hide their identity with a generic white mask, the kind sold at craft stores for people to decorate.
The blankness of the mask made an already terrifying situation ten times worse.
Anyone could have bought that mask. Scarier still, anyone could be behind it.
The slow, rhythmical thud of booted feet echoed out as the captor walked towards Alexa. Her brain screamed, but no sound left her lips. She was simply too scared.
By their third step, the captor was at the foot of the bed.
Alexa pressed her body into the mattress, causing a riot of pain to erupt in her skull, but anything that increased the distance between her and the encroaching threat was worth it.
By the captor’s fourth step, they had passed the end of the bed.
As fear thudded in Alexa’s ears, she ordered herself to focus on details.
Distinctive features, unusual movements – anything that could identify the captor – but their clothing bore no brand labels to suggest they were rich or poor, fashionable or not.
The only thing to note was that their clothes looked new, almost as if they were bought for this purpose.
Another footstep brought the figure even closer.
Tucked under their arm was a polaroid camera. What it was to be used for, Alexa didn’t know. She didn’t want to find out.
The next step came. Smaller, this time, as if the captor was enjoying the anticipation of their arrival.
Laid flat, it was impossible for Alexa to pinpoint their height. They looked tall, but most people would from that angle. They looked broad, but that impression could have been from their oversized clothing rather than their frame.
Alexa’s chin trembled as she realised there was nothing unusual to note about them. They were just a body.
A body that had come to a stop beside her chest.
At first, the pair simply stared at each other.
Alexa, trying to figure out the colour of the captor’s eyes even though they were shadowed by their mask.
Her captor, taking in the result of the injuries they had inflicted.
For the brief moment in which their curiosity levels were matched, the pair were united.
But the captor broke the union by raising their right forearm.
‘Please don’t,’ Alexa whimpered.
The captor stopped, frozen as if they couldn’t understand the words or their meaning.
‘Please,’ Alexa whispered again, her hoarse voice making her desperation sound even more pathetic.
As Alexa’s tearful eyes bore through the slits in her captor’s mask, she hunted for a sign to reassure her that she would be okay, but Alexa saw nothing of the sort.
She tried to blame it on the mask’s concealment or her impaired vision, but Alexa Clarke knew the truth: she saw no humanity there because there was none to be found.
And, as her captor moved once more, Alexa realised just how true that statement was.
The captor’s gloved hand gripped her jaw, then forced Alexa’s head to turn.
Now she was facing the wall, the wound at the back of Alexa’s head was exposed.
It was deep. Even deeper than the captor thought, they were delighted to discover.
The blood caked around the site was rancid.
Infection would set in soon, if it hadn’t already.
But before then, the captor had work to do. Curling their fingers, all but one, the captor moved towards the wound peeping from behind Alexa’s blood-crusted hair.
‘Please,’ she begged, but the request only fuelled the captor’s desire to plunge their finger into the gash obliterating the back of Alexa Clarke’s head.
Instinctively, a shrill scream flew from her mouth.
Even with her raw throat, the sound erupting from Alexa was impressive, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt.
The deliciousness of her scream awakened something within the captor. An energy they reserved solely for times like this. They pressed harder and deeper into the wound until Alexa Clarke’s world went blank as she passed out from the pain.