Chapter 39
Six days gone
Bloodied, dazed and confused, Alexa stared into the lens above her. Her eyes rolled, willing themselves to disappear into the back of her skull so she didn’t have to witness another moment in the white room, but the captor gripped her chin, keeping her alert.
The click came first, then the blinding flash, followed by the whir of a polaroid being printed.
Alexa didn’t know what, or whom, the polaroids were for, but the captor had been taking them ever since they first came into the room.
They’d homed in on Alexa’s face as it scrunched when her skin was sliced.
They’d taken a snapshot of how her blood trickled down her skin.
Print after print, the worst events of Alexa’s life had been documented.
Alexa wondered if the photos were being sent to her husband to extort him for money in exchange for her return. She wondered if he would pay the ransom or not, then shook her head. That shouldn’t even be a question. Things between them had been bad, but they loved each other underneath it all.
If the images were being sent to him, then Alexa knew that she could cling to hope. There was no way anyone could see photos of a person reduced to a shell and not do everything in their power to save them. Especially if it was someone they loved.
But the darkest side of Alexa’s brain warned her that there were other uses for such images.
Perhaps the captor never intended to share them.
Perhaps they were for them and them alone.
Kept like sick trophies to mark their cruellest days.
A scrapbook that they could flick through on cold nights and relive their most horrific actions.
And if that was the case? Well, Alexa knew that there was no way she was getting out of here alive.
‘Please,’ she rasped, moving even though the chains weighed her down.
The captor reached out and grabbed Alexa’s hand. She knew what was coming before it happened. But still, Alexa Clarke roared in pain as her index finger was snapped clean in two. Punishment for her thinking she had even the slightest bit of autonomy in this situation.
Again, the camera framed up the injury.
Again, a light flashed and a polaroid was printed.
Again, Alexa Clarke found herself wishing for the welcoming embrace of death.