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This pattern continues.
Over.
And over.
And over.
In time, the voices change from mostly male to both male and female. I don’t recognize them, but their tones are soothing.
Someone lays a soft hand on my cheek and speaks close to my ear. A sweet, gentle voice, like an angel.
Am I dead?
Someone should tell me if I’m dead.
I still can’t open my eyes. They’re too heavy. And I hurt all over.
I fade in and out as the voices come and go, interspersed with only darkness and pain.
CHARLIE
Hot blood snakes up both arms, carving fresh ruby paths through older dried brown streaks before dripping into the clotted puddle on the stone floor. My shoulders scream for relief as the barbed wire suspending me gouges deeper into my wrists. The throbbing low in my belly and between my thighs has intensified. My breasts sting, and my back blazes with fiery heat.
My mouth is parched, my lips cracked. I’m so dehydrated that the sandy dust in the air can’t stick to my tongue. The particles settle on my bare skin, mingling with my blood.
My entire body tenses as raucous laughter approaches from behind. I wrestle against my restraints, trying to wrench free. Heavy boots pound closer, venom in their harsh strides. I struggle harder, but the wire only chews deeper into my raw flesh.
Metal clangs as the door bangs open behind me. I cease bucking, but my body still sways, hanging several inches above the floor. The foul stench of soured bodies assaults my nostrils.
The Chihuahua steps in front of me, and an involuntary shiver races down my spine. I don’t take my eyes off the rusty blade in his hand. He smiles as he pierces my chest with it, not deeply. He carves a shallow slice through the flesh of my left breast – painful, but not fatal. I grit my teeth as blood trickles down my body. He moves lower, dragging the jagged tip lightly across my abdomen, but not cutting flesh. He watches my face as he toys with me, a cat tormenting a trapped mouse.
Fucking bastard.
I know what’s coming, and my body tenses. He repositions his knife at the apex of my thighs, grinning evilly as my eyes lock with his.
Deep-set, heavy-lidded, soulless black eyes. Small and hard, glittering with deep loathing and cruel satisfaction.
He sneers, thrusting his blade upward. Sharp pain follows the invasion of his filthy knife, but instead of crying out, I growl like a wild animal and bare my teeth.
I awaken to the blast of gunfire, down on one knee in my foyer, gripping my gun in both hands. Sweat runs in rivulets down my back. My breath comes in pants as I scan for the threat.
I’m in my foyer. Safe.
Fuck.
Four days in a row.
I hear my cell phone somewhere behind me. “Charlie, you’re safe now. No one can hurt you. Listen to my voice, Charlie. You’re safe now. No one can hurt you. Pick up your phone.” Breathing hard, I lower my gun and place it on the table. It takes a minute to locate my phone beneath the bench. I flop back on the floor, my back resting against the bench as I answer, automatically putting it on speakerphone.
“Sorry, Lila.”
“It’s me, Charlie,” Tucker answers. “Lila’s in the shower. You with me?”
I nod, waving a hand at the camera in the ceiling.
“Tell me what you see,” he prompts.
“I need to sweep under the bench. There are two dust bunnies that I’m counting separately. And my phone is in my lap and I’m wearing red socks. I’m okay, Tucker. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to keep doing this shit to you guys every fucking night.”
