Author: Dreamers-Requiem PM
Amy wakes up in a strange room, where she finds help from a very unusual source.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Supernatural - Words: 2,218 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 01-04-12 - Status: Complete - id: 2985514
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Silence surrounded her. She hated silence; all it did was push, to the forefront of her mind, things that she did not want to think about. And there were a lot of things Amy did not want to think about. For one, her failing relationship. Secondly, the loss of her job. Thirdly, the position she currently found herself in.
She couldn't even whistle or scream or sing to stop the lack of noise. The black tape across her mouth made sure of that. And the desire to rip it off was not powerful enough for her to get out of the rope that tied her hands together. Her back was against a wall, her hands pushed uncomfortably between the small of her back and the wall itself. They ached, and she could feel them growing numb, the unfortunate sensation of pins and needles setting in.
As if the quiet wasn't bad enough, she couldn't even see anything. She hadn't been blindfolded, but the darkness was complete. If there were any windows in the room, they were either boarded up, blocking out any light from outside, or covered in thick blinds.
She knew the ground beneath her was covered in carpet. Strangely, it was thick and full, the kind that would have been comfortable on her bare feet if it wasn't for the forced sitting position she was in.
Amy had no idea how she had got here.
All she remembered was talking on the phone to David, telling him she would be home in a few hours, that she was grabbing a taxi with one of the girls. They had been at a club, one that had just opened up, and had managed to get VIP tickets, thanks to one of the girls dating one of the bouncers.
Fear had yet to fully take its grasp on her. She was sure that the girls would have noticed her disappearance, sure that David would have alerted someone when she did not return home. Unless he thought she had run away with someone else.
No matter how bad things were between them, she would never have done that to him, and he knew it. Too much good had passed between them, and the bad had yet to outweigh that.
She vowed to herself that if she got out of there, she would throw herself in his arms and tell him, for the first time in a long time, that she loved him. She would work on their relationship. They would work on it. They could make it better, make it back to how things used to be...
All she wanted, right then, was David.
And with that thought, came the very real realisation that she may never see him again.
She felt something brush against her arm, and out of the corner of her eye, something flickered.
If she could have spoken, she would have cried out.
Suddenly she knew she was not alone in the room.
Amy tried to turn her head, but her neck was aching, the pain spreading from her clavicle and upwards.
"But you do need to look."
The gag stopped the gasp from escaping.
There, out of the corner of her eye, she could see her. Beside her sat another woman, with her arms wrenched behind her back, exactly like Amy's, and her head hanging forward. Long, dark hair fell over her face, but she flicked her head back and the hair went with it. Amy, pushing her pupils as far to the right as they could go, saw another pair of eyes staring back at her.
The only source of light in the room seemed to be the girl, emitting an odd glow. The girl smiled at her, although there was no happiness there. Only darkness and fear.
Amy's eyes widened as she saw the wound stretching from the base of the girl's neck down to her waist. The skin around it was peeled back, blood staining every inch of her. The clothes were ripped to shreds, and her hair was matted with sweat and red, crimson blood.
There was no way the girl was alive.
"Of course she isn't."
Amy's eyes snapped to the other side to see another girl, in the same position. She turned her head slowly around, and Amy could see the line drawn across her neck.
"Neither of us are, Amy."
"You should fight," the first girl said, her eyes fixed ahead of them, into the darkness where Amy couldn't see. "You need to fight or he'll kill you, too."
"And he'll keep on doing it," the second sighed. "He'll do it again, and again, and again."
They expected her to fight in her condition? She fixed her eyes ahead, feeling her body trembling in its restraints. How could they expect her to do anything?
"He'll keep on drugging girls," the first muttered, "and snatching them away from the clubs he finds them in. He'll keep on bringing them back here, raping them before he kills them..."
Rape? The word jumped out of her as she felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Her eyes darted down to stare at her legs, trying to find, through the rest of the pain, if she was hurting down there, too.
"Don't worry. He hasn't done that to you. Yet."
"But he will," the other one sighed. "He will."
"You have to fight. You need to fight. For us. For you. Because otherwise you'll be just like us."
"I wonder how he'll do it this time?" By now, she couldn't tell which side the voices were coming from. They seemed to echo around her, bouncing off the walls, and she didn't know which girl was speaking. "Neck, chest...maybe he'll just chop off her head, this time?"
"He has this tendency to let his guard down, when he's about to go for it," one of them said. "He'll untie your hands, hold you down, but then...then...when he's hard, he'll let you go for a few seconds while he undoes his belt." The sigh, then, was heart breaking. It filled the whole room, and Amy could feel the sweat on her forehead, could feel it dripping down towards her eyes. She wanted to wipe it away.
"I picked up on it!" the other voice cried, sounding proud of herself now. "I didn't see it with me, but I saw it with her and...but it was too late. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. But we know, and now you know. And you can fight."
She heard something outside the room, heard a click before a squeak and suddenly light was filling the room. Amy blinked, the suddenness of it painful. All she saw at first was a shadow in the doorway, a strangely small figure compared to what she had imagined.
Watching, she saw him lift an arm up and flick a switch. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, bright enough to make her squeeze her eyes tightly shut.
"Don't close them, baby. I want you to look at me."
Biting on her bottom lip, Amy kept her eyes closed, praying to God for the strength to get out of there, or for someone to burst in.
Maybe she'd seen too many films, too many TV shows, but she couldn't help but imagine David sweeping in, kicking the door down and slamming his fist against the man's cheek, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the hell-hole.
"Even if they are looking for you," one of the voices said, as she felt a hand grab her chin, "they won't get here in time."
"Look at me!"
"It's on you."
A thumb was under her eye, a finger above, pulling it open. Amy stared into the cold gaze of her abductor, of the man who had brought her to the hell-hole. And she remembered. She remembered being stupid enough to accept a drink from him, while she was waiting near the bar. She was stupid enough to be flattered by the sort of attention David no longer gave her.
A grin twisted his mouth as his hand dropped from her face. "That's better," he muttered, running a finger along her cheek. "Much better. You really are beautiful."
The words had made her smile the night before, had sent her into a giddy schoolgirl mode, despite the fact that he was nowhere near attractive. Now, the thought of her reaction sickened her; what had she turned into?
She tried to twist her body, tried to turn her head away from him. Either side of her, she could still just about see the flickering light emitting from the bodies of the girls. No, not bodies.
First, he grabbed hold of her legs and yanked her forward, causing her back to fall to the ground, her hands becoming trapped between floor and the small of her back. He climbed forward, straddling her, pushing himself against her as his arms snaked around to her back, fingers untying her wrists. She could feel his breath on her skin, shivers of repulsion running through her. He yanked her arms outwards, forming a cross shape.
The smile on his face simply grew more twisted.
Her bones ached, and she felt tired, weak, as he wrapped his hand around one of her wrists. He laughed, as she stared up at him.
"Now, this is going to be fun, it'll be fun for you, too, darling, if you let it," he whispered, leaning towards her ear. He kissed the spot just below it, and she wrenched her head away, managing to smack her cheek against the floor in her desire to get away from his lips. He laughed again. "If you don't, it'll just be worse for you."
His other hand didn't have as strong a grip. She listened to the encouraging words of the voices in the room, telling her again and again that she could do it, that she could fight.
Quickly, almost too quick for her to notice if she hadn't been waiting for it, his hand was at his belt.
With as much strength as she could muster, she closed her hand and threw her fist up, landing it in the side of her face. A strange strength had overcome here, filling her with the power to send him reeling off her and smacking onto the floor. The man slammed down, his hands snapping to cover his face and, before he had time to recover, she'd lunged forward.
The glint of metal on the floor was soon in her hands, and she couldn't believe her luck; firstly, that he'd even had the knife on him and secondly, that he'd dropped it when she hit him.
"Go!" the voices screeched, as she cut quickly through the rope. The man sat up, twisting his body towards her. He lunged. She would have screamed, if it weren't for the gag still over her mouth.
Before his body collided with hers, she turned her waist and threw her leg towards him. He'd left her heels on her, a fact that had gone unnoticed until the spike plunged into his side.
He howled as she scrambled to her feet, holding the knife in front of her as she backed away, towards the door. Her legs were shaking. She could only just about walk, but something else, something in the room, was ploughing through her, giving her the strength she needed to get out of there.
He climbed back to his feet, face twisted, ugly. She knew it would haunt her, knew it would plague her dreams. But for that to happen, she had to get out of their first, and it was a small price to pay.
"You bitch!" he screamed.
"Get out, Amy." The voice was quieter now, calm. "We'll take care of him."
The two girls stood and she watched as they seemed to fly towards him.
Their bodies disappeared into him and he fell to his knees, screeching with pure animal pain as Amy stepped out of the room. The door closed on its own, and she turned the key, locking him in.
Suddenly the strength left her. She dropped the knife and, leaning against the wall for support, started to make her way to the door of the house, panting heavily, head spinning, but alive.
And indebted to two dead girls.
Her hand reached for the handle of the front door. As her fingers closed around it, she heard one more thing from the voices.
"He'll be here for the police. Oh, and Amy?"
She reached up, her fingers grabbing the end of the black tape. In one quick, painful motion, she yanked it off.
"Yes?" she whispered over her shoulder, surprised at how strange her voice now sounded.
"Help them find our bodies, will you?"
She smiled, closing her eyes as the tears began to fall. "Yes. I will."