Chapter 12 - Sara
“Uhhh,” the noise is cut off the moment I realize it doesn’t help the pain in my head. I open my eyes. It's dark wherever I am. The only light coming from a small window close to the ceiling, which was only wood planks. So it appears to be a cellar or basement and considering my other surroundings I'd say I am right. Moving to sit up a metallic sound makes me look over in the direction of my legs. One of my ankles is encircled with a shackle. I blink as if not quite believing there is a chain connecting me to the floor with a bolt.
I search around the room, first to find if anything is familiar, then if there's anything within reach that I can use. My eyes drift over the shelving units filled with boxes and tubs, a washing machine, dryer, and a heap of clothing sitting not far away from them. I halt in my search, because that heap has long blonde hair, a slim figure, bare feet, and exposed skin in varying shades of black and blue.
Forgetting my chains I try and reach what I assume is a girl, but am a good four feet away. I call to her, not sure who she could be.
“Hello? Hello? Are you okay?” after long minutes of silence and the fact that I’m unable to see if she’s breathing I try with everything in me to get myself free. This time with a different determination since it's not only me trapped down here.
Nothing, the area is completely bare, but whomever took me prepared for my arrival. I wish I could tell if the woman over there was breathing, or even to see her face because even in sleep she can’t hide eye flickering. If I concentrate she'll make a sound, or if I’m lucky I'll hear her breathe. But I can't hear anything past my heartbeats, and my own breath. I try anyway.
My eyes are burning from having them open looking for any sign of movement, my jaw hurts from it being clenched when my ears do hear something. But it's not coming from this room, but upstairs. I can't resist the instinct to look up, or try to track where the sounds are headed even though I have no idea the layout of where I am. But I don’t have to wait long to know whoever it is was heading this way. The door that leads up the stairs open, the light spills onto the floor and the walls. The sound of boots make the stairs groan and creak as each step is deliberate and casual as if our captor has all the time in the world.
Taking the last step to the concrete floor he turns to the far end of the basement where I wait to take in his features. He's dressed in jeans, a blue shirt, and colors on a leather jacket, which he’s slipping off to place on the hook at the end of the staircase. The Snake Eye MC logo with a snake coming out of dice hugely embroidered on the back.
The man walking towards us might have been attractive for his late forties, maybe early fifties, but those eyes tell me there is only something sinister lurking behind them. Whoever this man was he was not a good one. My time in Chicago had taught me quickly who to avoid, and I’ve only known one other man such as the one standing in front of me. He got off on hurting people, it was the only time his eyes were bright and active. Yet I couldn’t allow myself to cower from him it would only please him, and I wasn’t going to willingly please this man.
“Hello Sara,” his voice felt like sandpaper against my skin. It makes the hair on my body rise. It was beyond deep, it was haggard and heavy.
“You like your accommodations?” he eyes me, then glances around the room.
“No,” that single word comes out stronger than I fell.
“That’s too bad. I guess I could get you a blanket. I’ll do that the next time I’m upstairs. It gets cold down here at night,” he says this casually as if this is a speech he’s had too many times before. It’s now rehearsed to perfection making the note of concern in his voice not at all mocking. Though from the look of the girl a few feet away I would be getting no blanket to keep me warm.
“You’ll be staying with me until I don’t find a use for you anymore,” he says casually.
“You won’t get away with this,” I say with confidence I certainly didn’t feel.
“Oh no? And who will save you? Your friends at school, wait you don’t have any. Do you mean your boyfriend The Kid?” his smile is evil.
“Yes,” I snap out, “He’ll look for me.”
“He’ll be looking for a long time. I’ve had him running around on errands looking for that one over there,” he points to the girl, “He won’t ever find you, or her.”
Since he pointed to the girl he hasn’t looked back to me. The look that comes over his face, the one that makes sparks lighten his eyes tells me nothing good will come of it. The lunch I had earlier threatened to come up when I hear the pop of his jean button open. I put my head down instinctively, and then away. The zipper is loud in the room, even louder than my heart which is trying to beat itself out of my chest.
“Don’t you want to watch what your fate will be Sara?” he says smoothly. My eyes shut tight. I hear him spit, then groan.
“Sara,” he taunts.
“Sara,” this time sharp, “If you don’t watch I'll kill her.”
My eyes fly open, and my head turns instinctively void of any emotion. He’s standing his feet hip length apart stroking his length. Bile comes into my throat and my head turns away.
“Sara, you want her to die?” not so quickly this time I return my eyes to where he stands, but refuse to look at his hand, or his face. My eyes pinpointed somewhere at his neck.
Panic rises when he walks closer, but he veers off in the opposite direction at the last second. Then a different type of panic grows in me. I was scared for the girl on the floor, and panicked that I had no way of stopping him. The tip of his boot toes her, but when she doesn’t move, he increases the force. I watch her body move with the force of his kick. When she comes down she flinches away and lets out a moan. He leans down and grabs her face. Even through all the bruises and cuts she’s younger than I had thought. His grip is punishing, making the areas around his fingers grow white where he grasps.
“Don’t, please don’t,” I beg. I can’t watch him defile this poor girl anymore than he already has.
He breaks his gaze from her to look at me, “You want to take her place then?”
I could do that, couldn’t I? She has had enough I can see it in her eyes that were soon becoming as dead as his.
“Yes,” but the conviction is less than convincing even to my own ears. So I say it again, “Yes I will, as long as you don’t hurt her anymore,” and I do mean it this time. I could do this.
This makes the sick bastard smile. He drags the girl by her hair. She doesn’t even lift her hand to stop him. He meets no resistance from any form of restraints either. How long has she been down here? Apparently long enough for her to lose fight, or the will to try and escape. When they are a few feet away he drops her into a heap at his feet, “Darling, you’re too kind, but you’ve got to wait your turn,” his attention goes back to the girl despite my protests, and pleas.
“Brianna, we’ve got an audience. What do you say about us putting on a show...no a demonstration for her?” she says nothing, and he waits for no answer as he takes his position behind her. The tears that start to flow on her face are answer enough for him.
“Please don’t do this. It’s not right!” I scream loudly.
“Sara, if you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make you,” unable to face the consequences of that threat my pleas continue to scream but only in my head, “Brianna and I have had long conversations about what she’s done. She understands that this is what her worth is. If she had just given into my nephew I wouldn’t have needed to teach her a lesson.”
He yanks down her leggings and with no preamble or grace drives into her body with a grunt. I shut my eyes, “Sara,” it’s a bark, and my eyes open with a start, “If you don’t watch I’ll kill you too.”
He pulls a revolver with a pearl handle from the strap at his waist and to my horror he cocks back the hammer and points it right at the back of Brianna’s head. So not wanting to be responsible for either of our deaths I watch. Sometimes I watch the gun, and as she whimpers I’m unable to avoid looking at Brianna’s face.
“You’ve gotten loose Brianna. I bet you’re not Sara.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask shakily.
“Because your boyfriend stuck his nose in something he shouldn’t have. He should have stayed out of my families business. If he had then I wouldn’t have felt the need to get all up in yours. Which I can’t wait to do by the way,” he grasps Brianna harsher in his hands, “It’s going to be my fucking pleasure to break you, and that pretty mouth of yours.”
Her tears seem endless, carving tracks around the cuts and the harsh coloring of her skin. Every tear she sheds is carving out a piece of my heart, and I feel useless for not being able to think of something, anything to make this stop for her. She is pleading with me, with the watery depths of her eyes, and once he was gone I'll do whatever I can to ease her pain. I'd do what I could for this girl, and I was going to find a way out for us. Trying to convey all of this in my eyes.
The familiar noises of a man getting close to his release fills the air, and in my peripheral I see him jerk over her, but I wish I had seen the more important movement. The twitch of his finger. At first I'm too stunned to do a thing but to watch and take it in. Then, I scream. I watch as the face I’ve been concentrating on so fiercely blows apart. Brianna’s face, that had been beautiful despite what this animal had done to it, was now in pieces and in many directions even some now on me. It seemed to happen in such slow motion. The wicked smile on his face. The smoke wafting in the air from the shot fired. The facets of each feature of her face growing tight right before it came apart, leaving a hole in the middle, her jaw hanging uselessly to one side. I start to cry. He slips from her, and her body released from his grasp slumps to the floor. Her blood still pulsating, shooting onto the floor.
“Oops, my finger slipped,” I can hardly hear him over the ringing in my ears. I forget to try and appear strong. I go to my corner when he comes close to me. I cringe from him when he leans over me. He grabs my face as he did to Brianna, and I cry harder.
“Don’t worry. I’ll recover in a few hours, and I’ll come back and clean that up, then we can start our time together,” he lets me go, and I hug my corner and cry even harder curling into myself as small as I can get.
By the time he comes back her blood has reached me, started to thicken. A wet wash cloth is flung in my direction landing on my face and shoulder. I jerk away instinctively, and I wish I hadn’t opened my eyes. He stands over me with a malicious grin on his lips, his boots in the congealed blood of his victim.
“Clean yourself up,” I do it mechanically, not really knowing if I’ve gotten all of it, but when I hand it back he seems satisfied. He throws the cloth towards the body, before turning his back to me to clean up his mess. Closing my eyes once more I do my best to block out what comes next.
I flinch every time he goes back and forth disposing of a little more of Brianna’s remains from the room. I just couldn’t bare to watch, even if I was scared of what he might do next, but it’s not like I needed my eyes to see. My ears catch every sound. My nose smells the slow decay, and the masculine scent of his cologne. And the new whiff of blood every time there is a pass of a mop that brushes against my toes. When he’s done, the evidence packed away in plastic bags, that crinkle with every movement as he leaves me to my silence once again, I’m not sure if I feel relief or dread.