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He’d grabbed her a few days ago, after contacting her through a website that featured her profile; her appearance, preferences, and rates. It was easy money while she saved up for college. Well, maybe not so easy. Sometimes the guys were disgusting, sometimes they were rough, and sometimes there was more than one, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
Until the monster grabbed her. Adam was what he called himself.
She figured she’d been in his dungeon for three days but had no real way to mark time. All she knew for sure was that she wanted to die like she’d never wanted anything in her life. How could a person torture someone for as long as the monster had been tormenting her? Shouldn't she have died by now? Tears seared her eyes as she tried to think about the moment she lost hope. At first, she thought he'd let her go or someone would rescue her. She imagined scenarios where she would overpower him and escape. She thought about the joy she would get when she killed him. She knew now that he wasn't going to let her go and no one would be missing her. And her body? It was too broken to fight back.
She tried to look down at herself to assess the injuries, but it was too painful. Her neck was strapped down with a thick piece of leather. Her wrists and ankles were also zip-tied to the metal table. She knew she had broken bones, but she couldn’t figure out which ones. The pain had merged into one giant agonizing fire that ripped down and up her body and settled in her brain.
Sometimes she would go numb and a few minutes of blessed peace would settle over her, but Adam always came back. When he realized she wasn’t feeling his ‘corrections’ anymore, he would do something like pile weighs on top of the broken bones, pressing them, pushing the jagged pieces around under her skin until she passed out from the agony.
Sometimes he called her his doll, sometimes he called her mother, and sometimes another woman’s name. He never seemed satisfied with her. She wasn’t quite right. Flawed, he said. He had to reshape her limbs, then punish her to correct her personality. She needed fixing because she was a prostitute and mother didn’t sell herself to men for money.
She was floating in and out of consciousness.
Day three and she was done. Would have done it herself by now if she could get her hands on a tool that could do the job. But she never had the chance. He never released her from the binds and even if he had, would she have had the courage to slit her wrists? Or would she have started to hope again?
She squinted as bright lights came to life above her. “Is my pretty doll ready to play some more?”
She shuddered. It was always the same. Did she want to play? No, of course she didn’t fucking want to play, but they played anyway and she became more broken with each passing hour.
She heard his footsteps as he approached, smelled the sharp scent of astringent and lemon, his sanitizer that he used obsessively on his hands and arms until they were red and chapped.
He ran his hand over her naked body, following the valleys and hills of her curves. She’d always loved the way she looked. She was smoking hot, commanded exorbitant rates. Men seemed to love her dyed blond hair that fell in loose curls down her back, her big tits, big hips, rounded ass, and tiny waist. She worked for the best madam in town and received one of the biggest cuts because she drew in the rich ones.
There had always been an element of danger to her job. Sometimes customers got rough, wouldn’t take no for an answer, or tried to stiff her, but she was careful. She took a bodyguard with her, booked with carefully vetted clients and always met in a place of her choosing. She’d been careful with the monster too.
He was a new client but had asked for her specifically and offered an attractive payment for one evening of her time. He’d knocked her unconscious and somehow separated her from her bodyguard. The monster never told her what happened to Pavel.
At first, she hadn’t known why Adam asked for her, but she knew now. She reminded him of another woman, maybe his mother. Except for her blond hair. That was the first thing he’d done; chopped her hair to just past her shoulders and dyed it a dark mahogany brown. He even changed the colour of her eyebrows, but he’d left the dye on for too long and it had burned her skin. Not that it mattered. Everything that happened after had been so much worse.
“It’s teatime, my love.” He moved his hands to the strap over her chest, loosening it. She groaned as he jostled the ribs he’d broken days ago. “Which outfit do you want to wear?”
She wanted to scream at him, to tell him it hurt too much to put clothes on, that he was killing her, but of course, the sadistic sonofabitch knew. That was the point, wasn’t it? He was a serial killer. He was the serial killer. Other working girls had gone missing from the streets of Prague. They were found dead a few weeks later with over half the bones in their body broken and not a single cut. Their hair had been dyed too.
She couldn’t remember any other details of the other killings, so she didn’t know how long she had left. She desperately hoped he would kill her soon.
Please, please make it quick, she silently begged as he released the straps at her ankles, wrists and neck, then helped her sit up. Her broken bones shifted and agony speared through her, forcing screams from her throat. They were muffled by the tape sealing her lips shut.
“Hush, Leeza,” the monster soothed, cradling her to his chest. “It’ll be all over soon.” Yes, please, soon…
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Momma?”
It was so infrequent that Kris asked questions that Leeza immediately stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. “Yes, baby?”
What’s happening? He switched to signing.
She smiled and handed him the gas cannister she’d been filling from the gas shed. The Koba estate had enough people and vehicles on the property that it made sense for them to purchase and keep fuel on the land. It was working out well for Leeza’s plan.
“We’re burning the house down,” she said brightly.
Okay.
She studied her son, examining his faraway expression, the eyes fixed on a distant object. She brushed his hair to the side and tucked it behind his ear. He was overdue for a haircut, but he hated them and refused to sit still, making it dangerous for others to cut his hair. Which left Leeza to do it. He didn’t like when she cut his hair either, but as his mother, managed to get him to stop squirming for a few minutes at a time.
Leeza was no hair stylist, so Kris had the same hairdo he’d had his entire life, an even buzz cut all around.
“Does it bother you that we’re going to burn the house?” she asked him, curious.
