This is a little story that I've been working on. Its based on a recurring dream that I've been having recently. It does get a little graphic, so don't read, if you're squeamish.
My eyes began to open, my head feeling groggy and weak. This confused me, I didn’t remember drinking anything last night, and I would have remembered taking a sleeping pill. I thought about this for a moment, and then it hit me. I couldn’t see anything. My eyes were wide open now, and there was a blackness that scared me. It was right then that I noticed that something was covering my face. I reached up, horrified. Or at least, I tried to. As I raised my hands, a searing pain ran up arms. I couldn’t move my wrists, it was as if I had been handcuffed. I moved my arms, testing what was keeping them still. I HAD been handcuffed. My arms had been pulled behind me, and handcuffed through the back of the chair, which seemed like one of my dining chairs
My body went into shock. Why was I handcuffed? I didn’t have any enemies. I didn’t know anybody that would want me taken. I didn’t know any girls. Nobody would want me handcuffed. What was going on? I began to struggle. My legs began to kick. My claustrophobia began to close in. I couldn’t see anything, and my arms were trapped. My chair was rocking now, my movements taking it from side to side. My arms were hurting, but I needed freedom. I need to get that mask off. I had to. It was right then that my chair fell over, and I slammed my head into the ground.
Sometime later, I woke. I could feel a sticky liquid on my scalp, sticking the mask to my head. Blood, I knew it. I felt woozy. I also noticed that I was sitting up again. Somebody had come and checked on me, while I was unconscious. I grimaced. It was right then, that the mask was pulled off my head. The pain, from the mask ripping away flesh on my head as the blood went away with it, burned, and I screamed in terror and pain. I was blinded as bright light flooded into my eyes, and I felt woozy, as if I had a concussion, which I was certain I did.
I felt a shove, and fell to my knees. My head rung, and I turned around, a grimace on my lips. A man was standing there, a pistol in his hand, and a balaclava over his head. He pointed it at me, with the .45 barrel staring me in the eye.
“Get up.”
I did so.
“Come here.”
I did so.
The man smiled at me. “Look, kid. We have a job to do. Your father sent us to get you to do something. We have permission to do whatever we want, until you do it. So you’d better listen up.” That was who was behind it. My father. The man behind all my misery. I nodded. There was something about this man that I recognised, but I couldn’t tell what. I would have to bear with him, until I could figure it out.
“Your father wants you to learn what its like to kill. So that you can get into the family business.” I knew that this was going to go bad, quick. I used to refuse to kill, back then. “We’ve got somebody here, a young woman. Nobody you know, your father needs her in the ground. We figured we would kill two birds with one stone.” He snickered at his extremely unfunny pun.
“Why don’t you follow me? And don’t think about running. Those handcuffs are set to explode. You make a break for it, and we’ll blow your hands off. This gave me pause. I needed my hands. Couldn’t really do much without them, could I? I fell into step behind the man, as he walked out of the room, and down what seemed to be a stone corridor.
His hand was clutched tightly around the pistol, as if he was nervous. Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with this either. I figured that this was the time to ask. “Who are you?” I stammered, my nervous teeth chattering together.
“You don’t want to know, kid.”
That made my fears worse. I did know this man.
We kept walking down the corridor, me stumbling a little, my head aching, and what seemed to be vertigo settling in. We reached a large wooden door, and the man pulled it open. He pushed me through, and I fell to my knees, grazing both of them. I stood up, stumbling to my knees, and felt blood dripping down them. I grimaced again, knowing that that wasn’t the worst of what was coming.
Still on my knees, I look ahead of me. There was a girl sitting there. She was about 5’7. Maybe four or five years older than me. She was gagged, but her eyes were wide in terror. She had long, blonde hair, which was grimy and tangled. She must have been in here for a while. Her eyes were blue, and she was quite a pretty girl. How could my father do this to somebody?
The man turned to me. “That’s her. She was giving your father some trouble. Snooping around, something about the college paper. He needs her gone.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to have a part in my father’s twisted games. I’d escaped him once, and I didn’t know how he’d found me this time. I wasn’t going to get back into this. “I’m not going to kill this girl for you.” The girl shrieked at this, or tried to, as her gag muffled it. The man smiled. “Oh. You’re going to want to, soon enough. Just to end it.”
The man nodded behind me, and I felt a massive pain in the back of my knee, as a large wooden object slammed into it. I cried out in pain, and looked down, my leg bent at an awkward angle. It wasn’t broken, I could tell that. But I couldn’t put weight on it. The man smiled at me. “Do it. Or it’ll get worse.” I looked at the girl, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. I shook my head again, and again, the object, which I thought to be a bat, slammed into my leg. This time, from the front. I felt my knee crumple under the blow, and I bit down on my tongue in pain. Blood began to drip out of my lips, and I feel to the ground once more.
“I won’t do it. You’ll have to kill me.”
“Oh, you know we can’t do that, boy. Your father will kill us. And this girl still needs to die. So even if we killed you, we would still have to off her. Might as well do it yourself, and save yourself in the process.”
I shook my head once more.
“I admire your bravery, kid. But I can’t have any of that. Stan, take off his handcuffs. I don’t want to wreck his legs anymore. Let’s deal with his hands now. “
The man with the bat, standing behind me, chuckled, and removed the handcuffs from my wrists. I rubbed them, feeling the raw skin hurt as I touched it. I felt my hand being grabbed, and the man behind me saying, in a slight Irish accent, “Your last chance. Either you do it, or I’ll break your fingers.” That gave me pause. I needed my fingers for my job. Without them, I would be nothing. I told the guy to wait a moment. To let me stand, and catch my breath.
I stood, or tried to, as I had to catch myself when I tried to put weight onto my left leg. I looked at the girl. She couldn’t have done anything that awful. She was young. My father was evil. I couldn’t kill her. I turned to the first man, who’s name I still hadn’t figured out.
“I’ll do it.”
The girl shrieked again, and began to shake. I looked at her, sadness in my face. I had to do it. If I didn’t, they would hurt me more, and kill her anyway. I might as well come off ahead.
My eyes began to open, my head feeling groggy and weak. This confused me, I didn’t remember drinking anything last night, and I would have remembered taking a sleeping pill. I thought about this for a moment, and then it hit me. I couldn’t see anything. My eyes were wide open now, and there was a blackness that scared me. It was right then that I noticed that something was covering my face. I reached up, horrified. Or at least, I tried to. As I raised my hands, a searing pain ran up arms. I couldn’t move my wrists, it was as if I had been handcuffed. I moved my arms, testing what was keeping them still. I HAD been handcuffed. My arms had been pulled behind me, and handcuffed through the back of the chair, which seemed like one of my dining chairs
My body went into shock. Why was I handcuffed? I didn’t have any enemies. I didn’t know anybody that would want me taken. I didn’t know any girls. Nobody would want me handcuffed. What was going on? I began to struggle. My legs began to kick. My claustrophobia began to close in. I couldn’t see anything, and my arms were trapped. My chair was rocking now, my movements taking it from side to side. My arms were hurting, but I needed freedom. I need to get that mask off. I had to. It was right then that my chair fell over, and I slammed my head into the ground.
Sometime later, I woke. I could feel a sticky liquid on my scalp, sticking the mask to my head. Blood, I knew it. I felt woozy. I also noticed that I was sitting up again. Somebody had come and checked on me, while I was unconscious. I grimaced. It was right then, that the mask was pulled off my head. The pain, from the mask ripping away flesh on my head as the blood went away with it, burned, and I screamed in terror and pain. I was blinded as bright light flooded into my eyes, and I felt woozy, as if I had a concussion, which I was certain I did.
I felt a shove, and fell to my knees. My head rung, and I turned around, a grimace on my lips. A man was standing there, a pistol in his hand, and a balaclava over his head. He pointed it at me, with the .45 barrel staring me in the eye.
“Get up.”
I did so.
“Come here.”
I did so.
The man smiled at me. “Look, kid. We have a job to do. Your father sent us to get you to do something. We have permission to do whatever we want, until you do it. So you’d better listen up.” That was who was behind it. My father. The man behind all my misery. I nodded. There was something about this man that I recognised, but I couldn’t tell what. I would have to bear with him, until I could figure it out.
“Your father wants you to learn what its like to kill. So that you can get into the family business.” I knew that this was going to go bad, quick. I used to refuse to kill, back then. “We’ve got somebody here, a young woman. Nobody you know, your father needs her in the ground. We figured we would kill two birds with one stone.” He snickered at his extremely unfunny pun.
“Why don’t you follow me? And don’t think about running. Those handcuffs are set to explode. You make a break for it, and we’ll blow your hands off. This gave me pause. I needed my hands. Couldn’t really do much without them, could I? I fell into step behind the man, as he walked out of the room, and down what seemed to be a stone corridor.
His hand was clutched tightly around the pistol, as if he was nervous. Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with this either. I figured that this was the time to ask. “Who are you?” I stammered, my nervous teeth chattering together.
“You don’t want to know, kid.”
That made my fears worse. I did know this man.
We kept walking down the corridor, me stumbling a little, my head aching, and what seemed to be vertigo settling in. We reached a large wooden door, and the man pulled it open. He pushed me through, and I fell to my knees, grazing both of them. I stood up, stumbling to my knees, and felt blood dripping down them. I grimaced again, knowing that that wasn’t the worst of what was coming.
Still on my knees, I look ahead of me. There was a girl sitting there. She was about 5’7. Maybe four or five years older than me. She was gagged, but her eyes were wide in terror. She had long, blonde hair, which was grimy and tangled. She must have been in here for a while. Her eyes were blue, and she was quite a pretty girl. How could my father do this to somebody?
The man turned to me. “That’s her. She was giving your father some trouble. Snooping around, something about the college paper. He needs her gone.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to have a part in my father’s twisted games. I’d escaped him once, and I didn’t know how he’d found me this time. I wasn’t going to get back into this. “I’m not going to kill this girl for you.” The girl shrieked at this, or tried to, as her gag muffled it. The man smiled. “Oh. You’re going to want to, soon enough. Just to end it.”
The man nodded behind me, and I felt a massive pain in the back of my knee, as a large wooden object slammed into it. I cried out in pain, and looked down, my leg bent at an awkward angle. It wasn’t broken, I could tell that. But I couldn’t put weight on it. The man smiled at me. “Do it. Or it’ll get worse.” I looked at the girl, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. I shook my head again, and again, the object, which I thought to be a bat, slammed into my leg. This time, from the front. I felt my knee crumple under the blow, and I bit down on my tongue in pain. Blood began to drip out of my lips, and I feel to the ground once more.
“I won’t do it. You’ll have to kill me.”
“Oh, you know we can’t do that, boy. Your father will kill us. And this girl still needs to die. So even if we killed you, we would still have to off her. Might as well do it yourself, and save yourself in the process.”
I shook my head once more.
“I admire your bravery, kid. But I can’t have any of that. Stan, take off his handcuffs. I don’t want to wreck his legs anymore. Let’s deal with his hands now. “
The man with the bat, standing behind me, chuckled, and removed the handcuffs from my wrists. I rubbed them, feeling the raw skin hurt as I touched it. I felt my hand being grabbed, and the man behind me saying, in a slight Irish accent, “Your last chance. Either you do it, or I’ll break your fingers.” That gave me pause. I needed my fingers for my job. Without them, I would be nothing. I told the guy to wait a moment. To let me stand, and catch my breath.
I stood, or tried to, as I had to catch myself when I tried to put weight onto my left leg. I looked at the girl. She couldn’t have done anything that awful. She was young. My father was evil. I couldn’t kill her. I turned to the first man, who’s name I still hadn’t figured out.
“I’ll do it.”
The girl shrieked again, and began to shake. I looked at her, sadness in my face. I had to do it. If I didn’t, they would hurt me more, and kill her anyway. I might as well come off ahead.
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