CHAPTER Eight
Samantha was broken and didn’t even realize Jimmy had returned to the room with another girl until the hand touched her face. Even then she couldn’t really register what was going on, the pain being the only thing her mind understood, though even that was fading and turning into nothing more than a noticeable ache.
Sounds echoed from her left.
Samantha eased her eyes toward the source of the struggle, but didn’t really see what was going on, nor did she care because it didn’t seem to have an immediate affect upon her. The idea that one of them could free the rope didn’t enter her mind because the very idea of being free no longer seemed real. Instead she just watched what was happening without any emotion or opinion, the way a dog might watch a little league sport match outside the window.
* * *
Megan drifted in and out of consciousness the way a person on a twilight drug during a medical operation would come and go, her mind seeing and registering things, but not really processing them, at least not at that point in time. Even the tug of the rope above that secured her hands wasn’t fully understood, yet the discomfort was. She also made several attempts to stand up even though her body couldn’t balance itself, her feet always trying to find a firm spot on what seemed to be a wobbly floor. All of these attempts failed and caused the tug of the ropes to be more intense, though the association between the two wasn’t understood.
* * *
“What happened to you?” Alan asked as Jimmy walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“I fell off my bike into a thorny weedy mess on the side of the road,” Jimmy said.
“My God, are you okay?”
Jimmy looked at his left hand and wrist which had suffered the worse of Megan’s nails, huge gouges marking where the flesh had been peeled away, and said, “Yeah, I think so, though these hurt like hell.”
“Was it Brett?”
“No, though it might as well have been him because I was looking back to make sure it wasn’t him coming up behind me when I hit a broken patch of road and went right into the brush.” He winced as he ran his arm under the water. “But I guess I should be thankful nothing is broken and that I didn’t hit the bump and fall right in front of the car.”
“Yeah really.”
He added soap to his arm, his mind not even wanting to consider trying the peroxide on this, and squeezed his lips together for a second before saying, “F*ck!”
“You know, on Mythbusters they found out that swearing helps you manage pain.”
“You’re shitting me!”
“Honest.”
“F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!” he shouted while rubbing the soap in. “It still hurts!”
“But maybe it doesn’t hurt as much. Cut up the other arm and try it without the swears so we have a base line to compare it to.”
“F*ck you!”
“Did it hurt less during that microsecond?”
Jimmy rinsed off the soap and then toweled off his arm with a disposable sheet.
“Better?”
“I hope so. The last thing I need is an infection from her.” He tossed the paper towel away.
“Who?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said get an infection from her?”
Jimmy froze, but then quickly said, “The bush. Her. Get it?
Alan stared at him.
“Bush as in p-ssy. STD. It was a joke.”
“Okay, yeah, a real Jimmy original - all the greatness of a professional joke, minus the annoying need to laugh afterward.”
“F*ck you,” Jimmy said though with a smile.
“Okay, on a scale between one and ten how was your pain while swearing?”
Jimmy shook his head.
“Did you at least get measured for your tux?” Alan asked.
“No, I didn’t make it to the place before falling and then came right home. You want to go with me later on once Mom is home with the car?”
“Sure, or we could just walk there.”
“Let’s drive. I’m sure they will still be open after five.”
“Probably. Battle?”
“Battle!” Jimmy confirmed one arm raised up in the air as if wielding a sword and commanding a charge.
* * *
Megan’s understanding of the situation returned slowly and wasn’t pleasant, especially when she vomited all over herself. With the vomit came a kind of clarity, one which allowed her to focus on the situation, though some parts of it still took a few moments to register.
Her hands being tied was one of them.
A part of her knew they were tied, and that the constant pull from above against her wrists was a result of it. The understanding of the ropes, however, wasn’t fully realized until she tried to touch the back of her head, her fingers wanting to assess the pain. The ropes would not allow this.
She looked up at the bindings, her head moving slowly due to the dizzy spells that threatened.
The knots seemed tight and very far away.
A nasty tickle hit the back of her throat, one which she recognized as a precursor to throwing up. Thankfully nothing did venture toward her mouth, and everything settled once she lowered her head back through her arms.
I want to show you something.
The words echoed in her mind, but without reason, the memory fuzzy.
She pushed it away and carefully tried to take in her surroundings. Earlier, while only semi-conscious, she had thought she was inside a small boat, one that was rocking in the waves. The idea now seemed ridiculous due to the concrete floor and walls. Plus the events from that afternoon were starting to fade in again.
I want to show you something.
She could see Jimmy Hawthorn talking to her, but it didn’t make sense. Weariness about his presence, or supposed presence, did appear, however.
She saw herself trying to grab the gun and then felt the pain of his foot coming down on her fingers.
Megan looked up again, slowly.
Though slightly shadowed due to the light being behind her she could tell her right hand was busted up.
Pain followed, though because of the ropes, it wasn’t as bad as it should have been, the numbness working to her advantage.
She thought about her failure to fire the gun. Just a simple pull of the trigger would have been enough, even when the gun had been on the floor and his foot on her hand, her mind thinking he would jump away from the blast, but her finger hadn’t been able to make the necessary movement.
Frustration swelled.
She looked down at the floor.
Small bits of vomit decorated her shoes.
A moan echoed.
Megan slowly twisted to her right.
Someone was sitting on the floor next to her. No, not sitting, hanging, only low enough that she could have been kneeling on the ground, her hands raised over her head. Instead her body just lifelessly dangled there, her legs making no move to support her weight.
Samantha!
Everything flooded back to her.
“Samantha,” she said, voice barely audible.
Nothing.
Megan moistened her lips, the taste of vomit being activated again.
Once a good glob of spit was ready she hacked it onto the floor. Some of the vomit taste went with it, most stayed behind.
“Samantha,” she said again. This time her voice was able to fill the room. “Can you hear me?”
Her friend didn’t respond.
Silence settled.
Megan screamed while pulling at the ropes, but this didn’t help the situation, and after a few seconds she gave up.
Samantha shifted, moaned, and then peed herself.
Megan watched with dismay as the urine pooled on the floor beneath her, its journey hindered only by the thin pair of panties her friend wore.
Fear followed, not of the waste, but of the fact that her friend was so badly hurt that she couldn’t even control herself - so badly hurt that she didn’t even seem to realize what was going on, nor cared.
How could this happen?
She examined her friend, her eyes taking in the colorless hands that jutted out above the knotted ropes, and then looked at her own hands, ones which were starting to turn purple as the blood pooled in them. What would they look like tomorrow or the next day?
Two days.
Samantha has only been here for two days.
This frightened her even worse than the fact that she had peed herself because she wondered what Jimmy could have done during those two days to make her like this. Worse, would he do the same thing to her?
Yes!
Megan pulled at the ropes again, her mind thinking that with enough force she might be able to snap the pipe or the rope, or both. All she managed to do was hurt her hands.
At the same time the smell of the room hit her. Of course it had been there the entire time, but just hadn’t fully registered. Now it did, and made her gag. Nothing came up, her stomach already empty.
Will there be anything to come up ever again?
Her eyes settled on the shelves of food and wondered if she would be fed, a thought which caused her stomach to shrivel. Later she knew this wouldn’t be the case. Once the hunger really began to set in she wouldn’t care about the smell or even the condition of the food and would eat it all.
I won’t be here that long.
Not if I focus and find a way to get free.
She looked around again, her mind envisioning her seeing something long and sharp and slowly but surely working it toward her feet, which then would carefully lift it into the air and cut the rope.
On TV things like this happened all the time when someone was caught in a situation like this.
Unfortunately nothing but her purse was within reach, and even if something sharp had been she doubted she would have actually been able to use it the way a TV or movie character would. Still, it would have given her some hope.
Samantha stirred and cried out, the sound startling Megan.
Nothing followed.
“Samantha?”
Her friend twisted a bit and looked at her with lifeless eyes.
“Samantha, it’s me, Megan.”
Samantha just starred at her, eyes completely vacant.
* * *
Tina hesitated for a while once she was home, a debate on whether or not Rebecca would even leave the prom ticket at home or keep it on her while at work raging within her mind.
And even if you find it she could still call the school.
The question was would the school really listen to her, especially if Tina went to the office and explained the situation? Furthermore, would the people at the door checking tickets actually inspect the name to see if she was on some sort of ‘Her mother doesn’t want her attending’ list?
Tina didn’t really have an answer for this, but did know one thing, having her prom ticket would be better than not having it, because without it she couldn’t get in - especially if Rebecca called them too.
Tina got a glass of juice while thinking about this and decided she had to look. If the prom ticket wasn’t there, then it wasn’t there, but if it was and she found it, things would be much better.
Unless Rebecca really flips out.
Tina thought about this while heading up to Rebecca’s bedroom, one which apparently had been her mother’s bedroom before the old woman had died from colon cancer a few years earlier - that’s gotta be a pain in the ass, Tina had said when Rebecca had explained this the day she had moved in, which wasn’t received very well - and pictured Rebecca trying to punish her. Last night Rebecca had said her mother used to take her over her knee while also putting a bar of soap in her mouth, her gasps from the spanking causing the soap to hit the back of her throat. It sounded absolutely horrible, and she felt sorry for Rebecca’s younger self for suffering at the hands of such a bitch. At the same time she knew if Rebecca tried something like that with her she would just find herself suffering even more, because Tina would kick her ass. It was one thing to raise a kid to fear you, something which often seemed to follow the kid up through adulthood. It was another to expect a grown woman of seventeen who was the same size who you’ve never spent any real time with to fear such things. Nope. The minute Rebecca touched her Tina would split her lip and break her nose, no questions asked, no apologies given.
The image of this brought a smile to Tina’s face. It quickly faded once she actually stepped into Rebecca’s room and began her search. It was the faces that did it. Rebecca had lined the walls of the room with pictures of her late mother, ones which seemed to constantly glare at her as she examined the contents of each dresser drawer.
It was the actual location of the prom ticket that stopped her dead in her tracks. It was sitting on the surface of a drawer full of unframed photographs, the small blue and white slip of paper clipped to one of the pictures.
At first Tina didn’t think much of this and just slipped the ticket free of the connection. A second later a chill slipped down her spine as she realized what the picture displayed, her father’s face easily recognizable despite the time that had passed. Rebecca’s face was harder to make out, the years between then and now having taken a serious toll upon what was once an incredibly pretty and youthful appearance. The two were formally dressed, her father wearing a tuxedo with a flower, Rebecca wearing a royal blue gown, one which seemed to enhance her beauty the way a nice frame will enhance a painting. Her father’s tuxedo didn’t have the same effect and instead made it look like he was trying to pull a fast one on everybody.
Enchantment Under the Stars - Prom of 1992.
Tina stared at the picture for several seconds, and then peeked into the drawer to see what else was in there. A wedding photo greeted her. It sat atop a wedding album.
She pulled it out. Together Forever - Memories of Stanley Thompson and Rebecca Collins Wedding - August 26, 1992 was embedded in gold on the thick cover, an image of the two kissing in front of the altar pressed into it beneath the words.
Tina opened the book and started looking at the pictures, her eyes growing wet as she saw the happy, yet nervous face of her father captured time and time again throughout the wedding ceremony and celebration. Rebecca looked happy as well, though her thick white gown did not have the same effect that her prom dress had had in the other picture. Truth be told, the wedding dress almost looked as if it was holding her hostage, the thick layers of fabric acting like restraints.
Your mother probably picked out the dress and made you wear it, whereas you were the one deciding on the prom dress.
Tina shook her head and closed the book, her mind wondering what the hell her father had been thinking. Why marry the bitch, especially right after school like that? Why not go out and enjoy life for a while? It just didn’t make any sense. Her father should have been smarter than that. Shit, her father was smarter than that.
But he was in love.
She looked at the prom picture again and saw it in his eyes. Rebecca had it too.
Puppy love.
She peeked into the drawer after that. Other photo albums were there, as were dozens upon dozens of loose pictures that had just been dumped in. Each one was a picture of Rebecca and her father, or just her father.
Tina pulled out a pink album that had the words It’s A Girl printed across the front.
A chill crept down her spine.
She opened the book.
A picture of Rebecca lying in a hospital bed, face plastered with sweat, looked back at her. Her father was in the picture as well, leaning over the bed and looking at the camera, smiling. Tina lay between them, eyes closed, her tiny body wrapped in a small blanket, pink socks covering her feet.
Several more hospital pictures followed, and then one of the two standing outside of an apartment building, Rebecca holding Tina. Snow covered the ground and each of them was wrapped up tightly, Tina included, a warm baby outfit hiding just about every part of her body. Written beneath the picture on the caption spot was Home For the First Time - January 1993.
Tina smiled.
She remembered the apartment, but not her mother being there. Instead she had memories of her grandparents coming over and staying with her during the day while her father went to work and then night school, something which he finished when she was in first grade. Her grandparents and she had sat in the hot sun while her father had gotten his diploma, her grandmother taking pictures like crazy, her father looking funny in the black square hat. Tina remembered the event. She had no idea what was going on at the time, just that it was important and that soon after they were able to move into a house rather than an apartment, the same house they had lived in until his death last year, one that wasn’t displayed in any of the pictures she found in the drawer.
Daddy, where is Mommy? Tina remembered asking once.
She lives with her Mommy, her father had said.
Why?
The answers had stayed pretty simple until she had been old enough to understand the reality of the situation.
She put the baby album away and looked at some of the stand alone pictures. In some her father and Rebecca looked happy, in others they just looked like any other married couple who had grown used to the constant companionship.
Tina dumped the pictures back into the drawer, and then replaced the two albums, her mind still startled by the wedding one because she had never seen any of those pictures before.
She wondered why Rebecca had been the one to get the album, especially since she had been the one to walk away, but then figured her father probably hadn’t wanted the constant ‘in your face’ memories the album would carry. Plus he probably figured it would act like a thorn in Rebecca’s side, its purpose being to constantly remind her that she had abandoned her family.
He wouldn’t think that way, Tina said a few seconds later.
She looked at the prom picture.
God, if only you knew what she would do.
She wondered what her father would have thought at that moment if he knew that within a year he would be married and have a daughter.
Hell, not even a year, more like - she quickly counted the months in her head - nine months.
She shook her head and put the picture away and started for her room, the prom ticket safe and sound in her pocket where it would stay until prom night.
* * *
Megan was staring down toward her purse, but not really seeing it, her mind projecting a pleasant fantasy as she took one of the boards in the corner and beat in Jimmy’s head until his skull split like an oversize eggshell, when suddenly the purse sprang to life with a series of barks and growls.
Shouting, Megan tried backing herself away from the small leather bag, but the ropes wouldn’t let her get very far and for one brief moment she had a vision of something horrible exiting the purse and coming for her, her body unable to get away and moving in small circles as she danced around the angry creature.
But then things clicked and she realized it was not the leather coming back to life, or some other horrible monstrosity, just her phone, which had different ring settings for different people, her mother’s being a dog barking and growling because sometimes the lady could be a real bitch. Her other family members had personalized rings as well, her little brother’s being ‘If I only had a brain’ from The Wizard of Oz and her father’s being a series of Barney Fife statements from the Andy Griffith Show, though she had been planning on changing the latter one because none of her friends understood what they were.
The phone stopped growling after six series of rings.
Please no voicemail, Megan said to herself, but then the happy little half ring echoed once the message from her mother was complete.
Oh God!
Her phone was programmed to beep every ten minutes when she had a message. Normally such a feature didn’t bother her because she didn’t get that many messages, and when she did she usually listened to them right away. Now, however, the stupid phone would beep every ten minutes, driving her crazy, and she would have no way of turning it off. Even worse, the thing was fully charged, and had a really long battery life, one that lasted even longer when no one was talking or texting.
At least they are wondering where you are, her inner voice said.
The question was, would they be able to find her in time - in time meaning before Jimmy spread her legs and f*cked her. Or would she be a withering mess of flesh, simply dangling from the ropes when they finally discovered the secret location.
Or a rotting mess of flesh tossed in the woods - one that the coyotes and birds have been picking at for days?
The thought chilled her to the core and once again brought up the question of why Jimmy had done this? Why would he kidnap Samantha? Why would he kidnap me?
Not to kill her, obviously - unless of course killing was just the dessert after a very satisfying meal.
Her eyes once again took in Samantha.
What has he done to you?
More important, what is he going to do to me?
Dozens of different possibilities ran through her head, none of them pleasant, all of them frightening. After a few moments of this she tried to block everything out but her mind wouldn’t stop.
The phone beeped.
Ten minutes since the call.
Time was moving slowly.
Megan shifted her arms and stretched herself so that she was on her toes for a moment all in an attempt to ease an ache that had started to develop in her back. At first the stretch worked, but then the ache returned the moment she allowed her body to sag against the ropes again.
Samantha moaned.
Megan twisted around to look at her, but her friend still had an empty look behind her eyes.
She didn’t bother trying to communicate with her, not yet, maybe not ever. It all depended how badly Jimmy had hurt her.
Don’t let him touch you! her inner voice ordered. Even if he threatens to hurt you, make him pay dearly.
Megan could see herself hitting him in the balls every time he tried to f*ck her to the point where he lost all his desire to do anything. Of course if she did that he might kill her, and then her family would never find her.
They might not find you anyway!
She thought about the entrance to the fallout shelter and how she had never known about it or heard anyone ever talk about it. That said, someone had to know about it, and Jimmy had been able to find it, so there was a chance she would be found.
Still, would she want to give in to Jimmy just to stay alive? If rescued could she live with herself after being raped repeatedly?
She thought about that girl in California who had been kidnapped as a young teenager, or maybe even before she was a teenager, and held in that perverts backyard in a tent for something like twenty years. The girl had given birth to his children and raised them in the tent, finally being found only when the family went to the police station or something - Megan hadn’t paid too much attention when the story had been on the news but now was curious on what that girl’s mind was like.
Will Jimmy make us bear his children?
The thought sickened her, especially when she imagined it all taking place in the small little concrete room, one which didn’t even seem to have a toilet or shower.
Worse, she saw herself giving birth while standing tied, Jimmy trying to pull the child out, his actions those of someone who had no clue what they doing and screwed everything up.
And then, even worse than that, she saw the baby as a girl, one who grew up thinking this was all the world was, her body there solely for Jimmy, who would spend years molesting her.
No! No! No! Megan’s mind screamed. The horrible timeline would not stop, however, and got more and more disturbing until she finally tried to rip her hands free, the ropes tearing the damaged skin to the point where blood actually hit her face.
The cell phone beeped.
“Shut up!” she screamed and kicked at the purse.
Her foot caught one of the straps and jerked the purse in the air, but at a sideways angle which caused several items to fall out, the lipstick getting a good bounce and rolling all the way to the wall.
The phone, however, stayed within.
She let the purse fall back to the floor and removed her foot from the strap.
On cue the phone started to ring, the growls of an angry dog once again echoing through the fallout shelter.
This time her mother didn’t leave a message, not that it mattered since the phone still beeped every ten minutes to remind her of the first message.
* * *
“Will you guys be home for dinner?” Kelly Hawthorn asked once Jimmy and Alan told her they needed the car. “I was going to make spaghetti.”
“Um yeah,” Jimmy said. “I think?” He turned to Alan while saying this last part. “How long will this take?”
Alan shrugged. “I don’t know. They just have to measure us.”
“Us?” Jimmy said.
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,” Alan said with a shrug. “I’m going to prom too. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Kelly said. “Who’re you going with?”
“Some senior chick. I guess her boyfriend bailed on her.”
“And how did you come into the picture?” Kelly asked.
“Art class. We sit together.”
“What’s her name?” Jimmy asked.
“Good question,” Alan said while scratching his head. “I should probably figure that out.”
“Seriously, who is it?”
“Rachel something or other. Long brown hair, cute face - ” he checked to see if their mother was looking and when he saw that she wasn’t cupped some imaginary breasts “ - and huge . . . ”
“Huge what?” Kelly asked while turning toward them.
“Huge stores of art talent and opinions on history, science and philosophical theory,” Alan said.
Kelly nodded. “Go on, get those tuxes. Oh, and Jimmy?”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“See if you can teach your little brother how to be respectful toward women and understand how to treat them as a person not some eye pleasing object.”
“Hey!” Alan snapped. “I look for more than just beauty in women. I know they need to understand how to cook, clean, and fold clothes.”
“Oh you better run,” Jimmy said.
Alan did, though his mother was still able to nail him with some spray from the sink.
A few seconds later the two were in their mother’s car heading into town, both of them laughing.
“You know,” Jimmy said as they neared the shop where they could rent tuxedos. “We should probably stop by Taco Bell on the way home.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom is so going to poison your food.”
* * *
“Well what do you know,” Brett said as Jimmy and his little brother walked into the clothing store on the corner, one which had been pretty busy lately thanks to the upcoming prom and their tuxedo rental program. The place even had a large banner telling those planning on attending prom to hurry up and get their tuxedos before it was too late. “You don’t actually think he’s going to prom?” He stood up while asking this and then added, “Let’s go make sure he gets something nice.”
“Ah man, just leave him alone,” Matt said.
“What?”
“Leave them alone.”
“Like hell I will. I told you what he did to me yesterday.”
“Yeah, after we took his bike.”
The two were sitting on the bench in front of the old rundown video store; one which Matt had worked in for two years before it finally closed its doors and sold off its inventory. They had been there for twenty minutes watching the grocery store a few doors down, hoping someone would help them buy beer.
“Since when did you become such a p-ssy,” Brett demanded.
Matt shrugged. “I’m just not in the mood.” Truthfully he hadn’t been in the mood since a year earlier when Jimmy had shoved him up against a gym locker between classes back in the corner of the Men’s Locker Room where the gym teacher couldn’t see from the office, pissed that Matt had told everyone what he had rented from the video store. Matt couldn’t remember what the movie title was, just that it had been a kinky soft core porn flick, nor did he really care. Instead all he remembered was the look in Jimmy’s eyes, a look that said if you ever f*ck with me again I will kill you.
Since then he had slowly started to lose heart in the torment of Jimmy, yet for some reason couldn’t bring himself to completely separate himself from Brett and Ron, not after spending so much of his childhood by their sides.
He was also a little scared of Jimmy, though he would never allow such a thing to become known. Something was seriously wrong with the guy, something which he couldn’t put his finger on but knew to be true nonetheless.
“Oh, not in the mood,” Brett said, voice rising. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t know you had such a delicate schedule.”
“Can we just get the beer and go?”
“Yeah, as soon as someone takes the stick out of their ass and helps us buy some,” Brett snapped.
“Why don’t we just call your brother?”
“I’m not f*cking calling my brother. I told you want happened.”
Yeah, Brett had told him. He had told him a dozen times, his mind completely obsessed. Matt, however, hadn’t really cared and like so many other moments when he had been around Brett, started to realize just how immature the guy was and wondered why he still put up with it. It was stupid. Even worse, he knew that ten years from now Brett would still be like this and it brought to mind something one of his teachers had said a few years earlier about her high school reunion and how the ‘cool kids’ had become the ‘lame adults’ yet didn’t realize it and still expected everyone to think they were all that. It was a position he didn’t want to find himself in ten years from now.
“Come on, let’s - ” Brett started but stopped as a sheriff deputy cruiser pulled up, the deputy inside giving them the look that told them to move it.
Matt stood up to head to Brett’s car, but Brett stood his ground.
The passenger window slid down.
“You can’t arrest us for just sitting here, Paulie,” Brett said before the deputy even got a word out.
“You want to test that theory out, Mr. Murphy?” Deputy Paul Widgeon asked. “Now move along and do something productive for a change.”
“Come on Brett, let’s go,” Matt said. He reached an arm out to tug Brett away, but Brett shrugged it off.
“You should listen to your little friend, Brett.”
“Why’s that Paulie?” Brett asked.
“Because even if he was missing half his brain he’d still be smarter than you,” Deputy Widgeon said. “And that’s on the conservative side of things.”
“You know, you think you’re tough shit now that you’ve got a gun and a badge, but I know how you used to run home crying because my brother and his friend’s shoved rocks and leaves down your pants on the way home from school and made you eat dog shit.”
Matt had heard about the first part, but never the dog shit part and had a feeling Brett was embellishing the story.
“Yeah, well a lot has happened since then, Brett, now move along before I run you in for failure to comply with a police officer.”
“More like failure to comply with a wannabe police officer who sadly lost his package in Iraq,” Brett said, though he did start heading toward the car.
Matt hesitated before following, his eyes watching Deputy Widgeon for a moment to see if he was going to do something. Thankfully the deputy kept his cool and a moment later Matt followed Brett to the car.
* * *
It wasn’t a conscious decision to start counting the message beeps from her phone. Instead it just started to happen because there was nothing else to do. Sometimes Megan would even try to count down the time till the beep occurred, her mind saying something like it will be in ten, nine, eight, seven . . . until she reached zero, her mind never able to actually match the countdown with the beep. Sometimes the beep would just happen, her mind not really focusing on anything when suddenly the beep would echo. Other times she waited for it, her mind wanting and needing the beep. No matter the situation, however, her mind always registered the number, even if she was simply staring at the wall, drifting. The phone would beep and her mind would say FIVE or SIX. It didn’t make a big deal out of this, nor did it attach any significance to it, until the twelfth beep.
TWELVE, her mind noted. This happened at one of her staring at the wall moments, her mind wondering how thick the concrete was and whether or not it had been built to withstand some sort of blast, or just a place to hide for a little while.
After the beep she thought to herself: Twelve beeps means it’s been two hours since she called, and then went back to thinking about the wall thickness.
Another beep echoed.
Two hours and ten minutes, her mind said.
It was then that she realized she was able to keep track of the time, something which momentarily seemed monumental despite its simplicity. Of course, being able to pinpoint that time passage on a clock would be even better, but she would take what she could get. Other discoveries would follow, ones that seemed even more significant, but at the moment she relished this one.
* * *
Waiting for Rebecca to come home from work was nerve-racking and for the hour or so after finding the prom ticket Tina did nothing but pace the house, her body unable to relax, her mind envisioning the horrible confrontation that would take place. Rebecca would be pissed, there was no doubt about it, and once things got started there would be no stopping the verbal abuse that would follow. Tina also had the feeling things would turn physical, especially if Rebecca tried to forcefully take the ticket away from her. Tina would not tolerate it, and if Rebecca laid one finger on her Tina was going to hit back and she wouldn’t hold herself back.
She’ll call the school.
This thought was a constant companion to the vision of the fight, one which chilled Tina, yet also made her question how effective the call would actually be. Parents and guardians always had the ultimate say when it came to things like prom, but her situation was so different, and Rebecca was so weird that the school might let things slide.
It was a risky bet; one that Tina hoped to God would pay out in the end. If not, well, there wasn’t much she could do about it. All her cards would be on the table.
Occasionally during this hour of pacing another thought would enter her mind, one which had nothing to do with her own prom and instead focused on her father and Rebecca’s prom.
Was I conceived that night?
It was a question she had never really given any thought too, mostly because the possibility had never occurred to her. She always knew her father and Rebecca had married young and that her father had been forced to cut back on the amount of classes he was taking due to the financial responsibilities, but the true reason for this never really clicked. It was the year changes that did it. Her father had graduated high school in 1991, prom and their marriage had been in 1992, and her birth had been in 1993. Because of this she had always assumed things had been planned out - not well, yet still planned out - and that she had been conceived after the marriage, the two feeling that they could bear the responsibility despite the burden it would place upon them. In reality Rebecca must have gotten pregnant around the time of prom and her father did the honorable thing and married her, which of course explained why everything was so ill fated and eventually broke apart.
Stupid teenagers, she said to herself. Probably didn’t have any condoms.
At the same time she knew she wouldn’t have been born if they had been wiser, which meant she couldn’t condemn them too much. It was crazy.
Did Rebecca plant the ticket there so I would find it?
This was another question that was bothering her, one which she couldn’t seem to figure a reason for. When first starting the search Tina had had a strong feeling that it was a fruitless endeavor because Rebecca would never leave the ticket where she could find it. A part of her had even tried to convince her against the search all together because it would be a waste of time. The other part had needed to try it, though, just in case it wasn’t. Now it seemed incredibly doubtful that Rebecca would have left the prom ticket lying around because she would have known Tina would search for it. Sure, the two still didn’t know each other all that well, but the experiences learned from living together gave them enough insight to predict the others actions with a high degree of accuracy.
Why leave it?
Whatever the reason Tina knew it wasn’t going to be so she could simply stumble upon the photographs and come to the realization that she had been conceived out of wedlock. No. As horrible as such a situation might have been for Rebecca and her family, she was sure Rebecca understood that it wouldn’t faze Tina. Another reason was behind it, and whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. To the outside world Rebecca could portray herself as a poor tragic woman who was being abused by her newfound daughter, one who she just wanted to be loved by, but with Tina she knew she couldn’t pull this off and for the most part didn’t even try. Tina knew the truth and knew the goal of anything that seemed calculated was supposed to hurt her.
It won’t work.
Nothing Rebecca could say or do would get to her. Tina just didn’t care.
Downstairs the garage door suddenly opened.
Tina put the prom ticket in her pocket, which would be its permanent place until the actual dance, and went to her room to wait. The calm before the storm would be broken soon and Tina was ready for it.
* * *
Megan was waiting for the eighteenth beep to echo, marking the third hour since her mom had first called, when she heard a sudden gasp from Samantha and turned.
Her friend was moving around, only this time her actions seemed calculated rather than the simple shifts her body had been making earlier.
“Samantha?” she asked.
Samantha twisted her head and looked up at Megan, her eyes growing wide as she recognized her friend.
“Megan?” she asked, her lips unable to muster much sound.
“Yes,” Megan said. “It’s me.”
Samantha’s closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. A second later she started gagging and twisted her body away from Megan. The vomit came in small harsh sounding clumps, and instantly filled the room with its stink.
Tears began falling from Samantha’s eyes as she spit out some leftover residue. Small bits clung to her lips and chin. Snot dangled from her nose.
Megan felt terrible for her friend but didn’t know what she could do. Above her head she could feel her hands automatically straining against the ropes without much success. There was no way to get free.
A few more gags followed but nothing else came up. Hearing it, however, and smelling the fresh stench as it flooded the room, made Megan feel nauseous once again. Fortunately there was nothing within her stomach to come up.
Samantha moaned on the floor and straightened herself into a sitting position, one which would allow some slack in the rope if she was able to lift her hands. At the moment such action did not seem possible, however.
Watching Samantha move about like this intensified Megan’s discomfort and for a moment she yearned to be on the ground as well.
But at what cost? her mind warned.
Jimmy hadn’t allowed Samantha to lie on the ground like that because he was kind; he had done it because she was broken. The question was what had the bastard done to her to make her this way?
Rape. That was obvious. But what else?
The phone beeped.
“Eighteen,” Megan said without much thought.
Samantha looked up at her and then toward the purse.
“My phone,” Megan said. “My mother tried calling me three hours ago and left a message. Ever since then it’s been beeping every ten minutes.”
Samantha did not reply to this.
Megan didn’t like how quiet her friend was being and wished she would talk with her, but also knew not to push it. Samantha would talk when she was ready and then the two would be able to start planning their escape.
* * *
Samantha herself couldn’t remember much of what had happened, the pain being the only exception. Every second she had been hanging from her wrists had seemed an eternity. It had gotten so bad that she had actually scolded herself for trying to escape and had wanted nothing more than to have Jimmy come into the room so she could apologize and be let down.
Freedom no longer seemed possible. No one was going to find her and Jimmy wasn’t going to make the mistake of tying the ropes too loose in the future. Hell, even if he did she wouldn’t be able to use her hands afterward so it didn’t matter. Despite the time she had been sitting on the ground her hands still felt as if they had been cut off at the wrists.
“Samantha,” Megan said. “What did he do to you?”
Samantha looked over and up at her friend still unsure if it really was Megan or just her imagination. She didn’t answer the question for several minutes.
“What did he do to you?” Megan repeated; her words a bit forceful.
“Hung me,” Samantha said while looking down at the floor.
Hanging from her wrists had been so terrible and exhausting that she had actually forgotten about the whipping Jimmy had given her, though the bruises and welts that covered her body still throbbed.
She shuddered at the experience, her mind hoping he would just kill her next time.
There won’t be a next time, unless . . .
She looked up at Megan while thinking this and pictured her friend fighting with Jimmy. Some of the images were real images from earlier, though she didn’t realize this. Instead she just saw everything as a future event, something Megan would do if given the chance, which then would result in them both being punished.
Emotions hit.
Jimmy would be punishing her again and this time it wouldn’t be her fault. It wasn’t fair.
Tears started falling again and carved new paths through the drying dampness of her earlier tears.
“It’s okay,” Megan said.
Samantha didn’t reply. It wasn’t okay.
The phone beeped again.
“Three hours and ten minutes,” Megan said.
Samantha looked over at her friend and then back at her own wrist, her mind realizing that she might be able to take the pressure off of them by bending her legs a bit and resting her elbows on her knees.
Would Jimmy be okay with that? she wondered.
He wouldn’t have lowered you to the ground if he wasn’t, another part of her mind countered.
Samantha agreed with that part of her mind and quickly shifted herself so that her knees were scrunched up toward her chest. The movement hurt her back a bit, but only in an ‘it will only hurt until something pops’ kind of way.
A few twists and the pop echoed up her spine, relief following close behind.
Slowly Samantha lifted her arms, the muscles barely able to function, her mind having to focus everything on the simple task of getting her elbows on her knees.
It took several seconds, but eventually, despite the numbness and exhaustion, she got her elbows positioned correctly and balanced them on her knees.
Pain followed as the blood flow increased, her fingers once again filling with the much needed fluid. At first it wasn’t much more than a discomfort, but within moments it got to the point where she couldn’t stop herself from screaming, her dry crusty lips opening just enough to allow her anguish to bounce back and forth across the concrete room.
* * *
Megan couldn’t stand the screams as Samantha tried to keep her wrists elevated above the ropes and quickly tried to distract herself by looking at the shelves of food. She also pressed her biceps into her ears, but that did little to drown out the sounds. Thankfully they didn’t last too long, though the gasps Samantha continued to make once the screams faded indicated that the pain hadn’t eased up any. Megan didn’t care just as long as the screams had stopped.
* * *
Tina could somehow tell that Rebecca had made the discovery, and prepared herself for the coming confrontation, but it never happened. Instead her mother stayed in her room for a long time, and then headed downstairs for a while, never once speaking to Tina or even venturing down the hallway toward her room. The situation was unnerving, especially given how uncharacteristic it was. Just the fact that Rebecca hadn’t said anything about Tina not making dinner since it was her night to cook was bizarre, but stirring it in with the prom ticket situation, that made it unreal.
It’s all part of a scheme, Tina said to herself while waiting on her bed.
Unfortunately she had no idea what that scheme was, which in turn meant she couldn’t prepare herself for it, thus causing her anxiety to skyrocket.
What is she waiting for?
The silence almost made Tina want to go confront her, but she knew that would be a mistake. Instead she would just mirror Rebecca. If she wanted to play the silent game Tina would play as well.
* * *
“Did you two stop by Taco Bell again?”
Jimmy looked up at his mother and then down at his plate, which he had barely touched.
“Jimmy did,” Alan said. “I told him not to and tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen and forced me to go with him and then threatened to tie me up and shove tacos down my throat all day if I said anything.”
“Shut up!” Jimmy snapped. He shook his head and said, “We didn’t stop at Taco Bell, I just got lost in thought there for a moment.”
“Where you able to get yourself all measured for your tux?” Kelly Hawthorn asked.
“Tux?” George, their father, asked.
“For the prom,” Kelly said.
“Prom,” George said. “You’re going to the prom?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said. His father always seemed one step behind when it came to current events in the Hawthorn household, despite always being around when things happened or hearing about them. It was strange and frustrating.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“George, we talked about it last night at dinner,” Kelly said.
“You talked about the prom, but no one ever mentioned anything about going.”
Jimmy stood up from the table and grabbed his plate, his mind too high strung to deal with a conversation like this, and his stomach too tense to handle the heavy spaghetti dinner.
“Honey, you haven’t eaten a thing,” Kelly said.
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just not hungry.”
“Well at least sit with us while we finish dinner,” George said.
“I can’t,” Jimmy said.
“Why not?”
“I just need to get out for a while.” Jimmy didn’t know what else to say. All afternoon he had been thinking about Megan and what he had done after school. It had been way too risky and probably unnecessary because chances were she wouldn’t have found a thing even if she searched the Hood place. At the time, however, his mind hadn’t really thought about the risk and instead just wanted her and her thoughts on the kidnapping out of the way. He also had been excited about the idea of having another girl down there. Two was better than one.
And they are best friends.
It was this final thought more than any others that was really tormenting him now because he wondered if he would be able to use that friendship against them. Would he be able to force one to do something on the threat of the other being punished? Even better, would he be able to force the two to compete against each other.
In his mind he saw both girls on their knees before him taking turns giving him a blowjob. Whoever made him cum first and swallowed everything would get to spend the night handcuffed to the post while sitting down - no more ropes for a position like that - while the other would be stretched to the very tips of their toes all night long, or maybe even put into a strappado position.
His pants bulged with the thought.
Of course, he didn’t even have the handcuffs yet to make such a situation possible, nor did he think he would be able to muster up the courage to stick his penis down their throats even though it was something he desperately wanted to experience. It was just too risky. In time maybe this wouldn’t be the case and they would be broken enough to do whatever he asked without question, but now that wasn’t possible.
I should knock out all their teeth, he thought to himself. That would solve the problem.
He wondered if such a thing would be possible. Could he safely remove their teeth without having to worry about infection killing them?
In his mind he saw the pliers yanking free a tooth. Once they were removed he would grab a bottle of peroxide and make them swish it around.
This led to another thought. What if the girls got tooth infections and cavities because they were no longer brushing or flossing?
God, he hadn’t even thought about this. A tooth infection could be fatal if left untreated.
He would have to start having them brush their teeth, or brush them for them if they refused to cooperate.
“Jimmy, why don’t you put the plate in the fridge in case you want some later,” Kelly suggested.
“Okay,” Jimmy said. He had already been planning on doing just that. Moments later the plate was sealed up with saran wrap and sitting on the bottom shelf.
He headed down to his room, his plan being to head to the fallout shelter once everyone went to bed, the way he used to wait to watch bondage flicks he had ordered in the mail or downloaded, the distance between his room in the basement and their rooms on the second floor making it so he could have the sound on low without worrying about them hearing it. Of course, one hand was always ready to mute things if he heard movement above.
Unfortunately, once he was in his room he couldn’t stop thinking about Megan and Samantha, a mix of excitement and terror illuminating the situation.
You shouldn’t have grabbed Megan, his mind would say. Not with her father being the sheriff.
This was always followed by an image of how hot she looked with her hands stretched over her head, her large breasts thrust forward against her tight shirt, her body waiting for whatever violations he had in mind.
The thoughts led him to look at some bondage sites on the computer, his goal being to find pictures similar to the image of Megan that he carried in his mind. Several of them appeared on screen without much effort, but there wasn’t any real thrill or excitement at seeing them. This didn’t stop him from saving the pictures to his hard drive, but it did make him realize he wasn’t going to wait until his family went to bed to go see Samantha and Megan. Nope. He was going now.
* * *
“What are you doing?” Samantha asked.
Megan didn’t answer right away and instead focused on turning her purse upside down. It wasn’t an easy task despite how simple it seemed. Every time she hooked her foot through the strap and tried to flip the purse, her foot would slip free, and every time she tried to simply scoot her foot under the purse and flip it over she would only manage to push the purse farther away. Once that happened she would have to hook the strap again and pull the purse back. It was frustrating.
“What are you doing?” Samantha asked again.
“Trying to get my cell phone out,” Megan snapped.
Anger at herself for not thinking about the possibility of calling someone this entire time was getting the better of her. The fact that they had gone so long without Jimmy coming back also added to this because it would have given her ample time to get the phone in position, get her shoe off, and dial a number with her toe. Now, however, Jimmy could return any second, and would surely take the phone away, especially if he heard one of the beeps.
She just couldn’t believe how stupid she had been.
Five hours.
They could have been rescued by now and Jimmy in custody if she had made the call right away, but instead she had just stood there like a fool, her body getting weaker and weaker, her mind growing more and more terrified.
“Why?” Samantha asked.
“So I can f*cking call someone!” Megan shouted as her foot once again slipped free. God dammit!
“Don’t,” Samantha said. “He’ll punish us.”
“Not if I can get the phone out and call my dad before he gets back.” She hooked the purse again and once again it slipped free.
The phone beeped.
Five hours and twenty minutes.
“Megan please!” Samantha cried. “He’ll hurt us bad!”
“Samantha! This is our only chance!” Megan couldn’t believe her friend. “Now help me flip over the purse. You are close enough to tip it with your feet.”
Despite her pain Samantha inched toward the purse, but rather than helping Megan tip it over she kicked it as hard as she could.
“What the f*ck!” Megan screamed, her foot stopping the purse at the last second before it slid too far away. “Samantha!”
“He’ll hang me again,” Samantha cried while trying to kick it again, tears falling from her eyes. “He’ll hang me all day!”
Megan tried getting the purse out of Samantha’s reach, and then kicked at her feet. “Stop it!”
Samantha didn’t and Megan was forced to hit her friend as hard as she could in the shin. The impact hurt her own foot and caused her friend to scream again.
“Samantha, listen to me,” Megan said, her voice stern. “We are going to die down here unless someone finds us and this phone is our best chance at the moment.”
Wet sobs were the only reply she got to this.
Megan couldn’t believe her friend, yet knew it wasn’t fully her fault. Still, one good kick and the purse would have been completely out of reach. One good kick and Samantha could have sentenced them to death.
“Samantha, I’m going to get this phone,” Megan said. “Now, if you don’t want to be a part of it just stay right there and don’t move, okay?”
Samantha continued to cry.
“If Jimmy finds out I will tell him you had no part in this.”
“It won’t matter,” Samantha said.
“Are you going to help me?” Megan asked.
Samantha shook her head.
“Fine.”
Megan turned back to her purse and quickly tried to think up a way of flipping it over. A moment later an idea struck and she used her left foot to take off her right shoe, something that would have to have been done anyway once the phone was free, and started reaching into the purse with her toes in an attempt to scoop everything out.
It worked and the phone came free, only it landed face down.
Megan tried to grab it with her toes to flip it, but her socks made it impossible to grab. She needed to remove them.
Beep!
God, he could be here any second!
Needing her other foot free from the shoe, Megan used her right to push against the heel making it possible to slip free. Once that was done she attempted to slip the toes of her left foot into the sock of her right and pulled. Once again the task was harder than it seemed and she spent several minutes trying and failing, her mind growing more and more desperate, until finally she managed to slip the sock over her ankle and then her heel.
Beep!
The sock was free.
Now she just had to grab the phone with her toes, flip it over, and call her father.
Samantha’s foot came out of nowhere and nearly hit the phone, the surprise strike only being deflected at the last second by Megan’s ankle, which hurt.
“God dammit!” Megan screamed at her friend and kicked her as hard as she could, the nail of her big toe cutting in the flesh of Samantha’s calf. “STOP IT!”
Samantha didn’t and Megan was forced to deflect several more attacks and then went on the offensive again.
Beep!
Things settled for a moment and Megan went back to trying to grip the phone, her foot hurting from the battle, her eyes going back and forth between the task at hand and watching Samantha, her mind wishing Jimmy had just left her hanging from her wrists so she couldn’t reach the phone.
It took three tries before she got the phone flipped over. Once that was done she tried using her toe to start dialing, her mind so focused on her father’s phone number that she didn’t even realize she could have just done nine one one, which would have been a whole lot simpler.
Her toe hit the forth button needed. At the same moment a sound echoed from the door.
Oh God!
She found the fifth button and then the sixth.
One more to go.
She heard the door starting to open.
She got the seventh button. The number was complete. All she needed to do was hit SEND.
Jimmy entered the room.
Megan hit SEND.
The sound of the phone ringing on the other end filled the room.
Megan looked toward Jimmy and saw his eyes go wide. At the same moment Samantha managed to kick the phone, which went across the room and shouted that she had told Megan not to call.
“Megan, is that you!” her father cried in the phone. “Are you all right?”
Jimmy lunged across the room.
“Daddy help me!” Megan screamed. “Jimmy Hawthorn has got us at the Hood place!”
There was no reply. Jimmy had smashed the phone with his foot before she had finished screaming. The question was, had her father heard enough to find them?
* * *
Jimmy looked back and forth between the smashed phone and Megan, panic building, his mind unable to comprehend anything but the words Megan had screamed into the phone: Jimmy Hawthorn has got us at the Hood place!
He didn’t know what to do.
“I told her not to call!” Samantha said, her lips repeating the words over and over again. “I tried to stop her!”
“Shut up!” Jimmy snapped.
“I told her not to,” Samantha continued.
“SHUT UP!” He grabbed her by the hair while shouting this and yanked her head back so that her throat was completely stretched and vulnerable.
“Let her go, you bastard!”
Jimmy turned and started at Megan. Beneath his panic was anger, both at himself and at her, all of which would be taken out on her.
Samantha whimpered beneath him.
He let go of her hair and started toward Megan, who took a few steps back, fear momentarily touching her face before being replaced with one of defiance.
Jimmy grabbed her by her cheeks and said, “I smashed the phone too soon. He doesn’t know you’re here.”
Megan tried to twist free of his hand, but couldn’t.
“And now you will pay for trying - ”
His voice was cut short as her knee smashed up into his testicles, the sudden sharp pain making his entire body seem too heavy to fight gravity as he tried to back away, his feet managing two small steps before everything simply collapsed.
“Try to get it up now you f*cking pervert!” Megan screamed.
Jimmy heard but didn’t really register the words, his mind only able to focus on one thing, and that being the strange hollow sensation that encased his groin region.
On the other side Samantha was sobbing uncontrollably.
Jimmy lay on the ground for a long time.
Slowly the sharp pain fizzled into a dull throb, one which was unpleasant but manageable. The hollow numbness faded as well, but didn’t go away completely.
He tried to get up, but his legs were barely able to support his weight, and his stomach turned over.
Thankfully he hadn’t really eaten much so nothing came up.
He stayed on his knees for nearly a minute, his hands palm down on the cold concrete floor helping to support his weight.
A few feet away Megan continued to taunt him.
* * *
Fear crept into her head as she watched Jimmy struggling on the floor, one that competed with the enormous amount of satisfaction kneeing him in the balls had produced. Fear of both him and the fact that her father might not have heard enough to come rescue her.
Please come, her mind begged. Please come before he gets up and hurts me.
Kneeing Jimmy in the groin had been completely involuntary, and was something she would have done to any guy who grabbed her like that. Now, however, a part of her wished she hadn’t done it simply because she knew it had created a pain debt that Jimmy would make her pay. At the same time she knew he would do tons of horrible things to her, so hurting him wouldn’t really matter much. Fighting back was also better than lying down and letting him do whatever the hell he wanted with her.
Still, she worried what the consequences of the knee strike would be, her eyes looking at Samantha while thinking about this.
Her friend whimpered on the floor like a frightened dog, one which feared daily beatings from its owner for stupid infractions.
I will not become like that.
I will not openly show fear.
* * *
It took several minutes, but eventually Jimmy did manage to stand up and move around, his legs still weak yet finally able to support his weight once again.
Anger filled the void as the pain started to leave, but for the moment he held it in check because he knew he needed to see if Megan’s call had accomplished anything, or if he had broken the connection in time.
What if the police are swarming the Hood place?
Jimmy had no idea what his actions would be, but did know one thing; Megan would not live to see the results of her call. No. If it became apparent that he would not leave the Hood place on his own accord then the last moments of his freedom would be spent killing Megan, his hands working as slowly as the lawmen up above allowed him to work.
“What’s the matter?” Megan taunted. “You gonna go home and cry to mommy?”
Jimmy did not reply, though the words did anger him, and continued toward the door. Once on the stairs of the fallout shelter he crept up slowly until his body was pressed against the trapdoor, his hand slowly lifting it so that he would not give away his position if anyone were around.
The area above was silent. Nothing seemed to be stirring around the Hood place.
That doesn’t mean they aren’t on their way.
Jimmy hesitated.
If he went home now he could get a running start if they discovered he was responsible for the two girls. At the same time he doubted he would actually be able to get away, and wondered if it would be better to just stay in the shelter and take all the pleasure he could get from the girls before being locked up.
I should have brought the gun.
With the gun he could hold the police off for a long time, especially if they knew the two girls were down here, his body enjoying them for as long as the food and water supply held out. Things would get pretty nasty after a while, especially without any bathroom facilities, but it would be worth it.
The thought caused the start of an erection, one which hurt like hell yet still felt somewhat pleasurable. It was an odd combination.
Minutes came and went and still nothing stirred, the only sound being a car that drove by on the road, one which seemed to be going the normal speed for cars taking the wooded turn - forty to fifty miles despite the speed limit sign stating twenty five.
Jimmy checked his phone a few times, his mind deciding that if no one came around by eight o’clock it probably meant he was in the clear.
Unless they are at your house.
Shit. Megan had shouted his name before the Hood place, which meant they might know it was him but not where he had them.
Do I have anything at home that could point them in this direction?
Jimmy thought back but knew the only thing he had ever brought back from the Hood place was the gun he had found, one which had been left inside the fallout shelter, the Hood family having probably forgotten it given how many guns they possessed and grabbed while fleeing.
The bondage videos.
Nothing he owned was illegal, but if the police found the tapes they might grow incredibly suspicious of him. Then again, even without the tapes just the fact that Megan had said his name might make them suspicious as well.
F*ck!
He had no idea what to do. A part of him wanted to ride home and get rid of the tapes, that is, if the sheriff wasn’t already there waiting for him. Another part wanted to stay here and take out his anger on Megan.
Don’t be stupid, you can take out the anger any time.
This was true.
He looked at his phone again. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock yet but he had a feeling nothing was going to happen here, and quickly headed back into the fallout shelter. Five minutes later he was back on the surface of the Hood place unhooking his bike from the tree he had chained it to, a chain which he had found in the garage at home and used a padlock to secure. Brett and his friends would need bolt cutters to get at his bike, and he doubted they carried them.
Once free he hopped up onto the bike, and then quickly jumped off with a curse, his mind having not even given any thought to how painful the seat would be to his swollen testicles.
He tried again a minute later once things cooled off, his movements much slower this time. The pain was still there, but it was manageable.
* * *
Megan found herself struggling for breath minutes after Jimmy left, her lungs feeling as if her breasts and ribcage were squeezing them to the point where they couldn’t expand. Her wrists also screamed in agony. In fact, they had been screaming since the moment Jimmy had pulled her off her feet, feet that were now desperately trying to find the ground.
Samantha was hanging too, though she didn’t struggle, the tears streaming down her face the only sign that she was suffering as well.
Oh God make it stop!
Megan couldn’t take it. Her entire body hurt. Jimmy hadn’t even done anything to her after pulling her off the ground, yet it felt like she was experiencing the worst punishment ever.
And his words as he was leaving promised worse to come when he returned. What could be worse than this?
“Ughhhh!” she moaned while trying to touch the ground. Her feet couldn’t even get close. It was only about five inches below her, yet might as well have been a mile.
And her wrists! God they hurt. The ropes felt like they were chewing their way through her flesh, and beyond them her fingers strained to move around, each one trying to find a spot to grab the ropes to ease the pressure but unable to find a hold.
Torture.
This is what torture was. It was something she had never understood before. Now she knew why people confessed. She would do anything to be let down.
Nothing she could do would work, however, and her body would continue to slowly twist in the air, her feet unable to touch the ground until Jimmy returned.
She hoped it was soon even if worse was to come. She didn’t care what it was just as long as he lowered her.
No, don’t give in to him!
The part that was in pain ignored the words from the stubborn part of her body, a part that was quickly shrinking.
Her body twisted around and came face to face with Samantha who stared back at her.
Megan wanted to apologize but couldn’t find the words and then twisted away, her body unable to control the sway the rope caused.
She kicked her legs, her mind thinking that if she jerked on the rope hard enough something would snap. Unfortunately all she managed was to create more pressure on her wrists, which was something she couldn’t handle.
Her body twisted back the other way and once again she was looking at Samantha. I’m sorry, she mouthed, no sound arriving, her lungs still straining to get in normal breaths of air.
Samantha did not acknowledge her. She didn’t react in any way at all, her own body slowly twisting away.
* * *
The ache in his groin and testicles reached the unbearable mark six minutes into his ride home and he was forced to jump down from the bike and walk. While doing this he noticed an obvious increase in the amount of Sheriff Department vehicles that were patrolling the area, but was relieved when none of the deputies paid him any attention.
He probably didn’t hear my name, just the screams from Megan.
Still, he felt very uncomfortable out in the open like this and wanted to get home. At the same time he knew that pacing himself would be best because he didn’t want any one to think he was running from something.
No one was waiting for him at home, but just to be sure it wasn’t a trap, Jimmy entered through the front door and then hurried out the back door, Alan giving him a puzzled look from the family room couch where he was watching TV.
No one swarmed the house upon his arrival, and eventually Jimmy left the cover of the bushes in back, ones that were completely in shadow now that the sun was nearly set, and went back inside.
“What was that?” Alan asked.
“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see something,” Jimmy lied. “I think Brett was following me.”
“Again?”
“Yeah, so I left the bike on the front porch and then ran around to the side of the house and waited. I figured I could jump him when he tried to take it.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“That’s good, but you should have had me hide with you. I want a piece of that bastard as well.”
“Oh, sorry. Next time.”
“Yeah. Battle?”
“Um, okay.”
The two battled for nearly an hour, Alan winning every game, even the ones where Jimmy should have dominated given the level they chose. Jimmy wasn’t surprised, though. While playing he had only been able to think about two things: one being the fear that the police would find him, two being the image of both Megan and Samantha hanging from their wrists.
Stop! Stop! Stop! Megan had cried while Jimmy lifted her off the ground, her words turning into screams as the rope bit into her flesh, her legs kicking every which way in an attempt to relieve the pressure by finding something to stand on.
Samantha, on the other hand hadn’t protested at all, her body simply sagging against the ropes as he lifted her off the ground by them, her whimpering the only evidence that she was even aware of the situation.
Watching them both being lifted like that had been incredibly stimulating and for a moment he had considered sticking around with them just so he could watch as they suffered. But then the fear of the phone call and what Megan’s father might have heard once again expressed itself and he knew he had to head home.
He thought about his bondage tapes; the idea of getting rid of them weighing heavy on his mind. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to destroy items that he had once waited days to receive, his eyes constantly watching the mailbox, his heart racing every time he saw the mail truck outside, his mind trying to picture what the scenes would be like, but unable to even comprehend what it was he had ordered. It had been an amazing moment, though one that he hadn’t realized would mark the start of his dissatisfaction with the staged scenes, especially when so few of them had long term hands over the head displays. He also never again waded through countless hours of piss poor movies just because their was a chance it would contain a hands over the head scene, something which he done for years, first with movies and shows on TV, and then, once he had his drivers license, with movies he rented from every video store he could find.
“Another battle?” Alan asked.
“Nah, I have to get some work done.”
“Oh, okay.”
With that Jimmy headed into his room and waited, his ears listening for Alan to head back up the stairs. Once that happened he dug into his closet and pulled out an old box, one that was completely filled with VHS tapes. A series of red numbers marked the front of each. It was his way of coding the tapes so that his parents wouldn’t see the titles if they ever stumbled upon them, titles like Asian Schoolgirl Bondage Vol. 5, Pain and Punishment Vol. 2, and European Girls Bound and F*cked.
The first bondage tape he had ever ordered had been The Witchfinder. He had thought that with such a title the movie would have countless scenes of medieval dungeons where peasant girls were chained up in shackles and tortured without mercy until they confessed. Instead the dungeon location had been nothing more than a painted on brick wall with modern day bondage items, the girls wearing costumes that didn’t have any historical accuracy to them, their torture more of an erotic torment. Jimmy had still gotten off on it many times, but had also been incredibly disappointed.
Other videos hadn’t been so bad, but none of them had ever given him the scenes he really craved. Even the Internet had been a disappointment, though that hadn’t stopped him from searching out images and videos daily, his eyes always on a lookout for something good.
The really sad thing was that his favorite bondage scene moments, before grabbing Samantha and Megan, had been ones he had stumbled upon on TV when he was younger. The People Under the Stairs, The Lair of the White Worm, Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity, The Howling 2, No Retreat, No Surrender 2, Chained Heat 2, American Ninja 4, and Burial of the Rats had all been movies he saw on TV or rented from the video store without knowing whether or not they would have a scene in it, and watched with growing anticipation as the story unfolded just to see, his heart always starting to race if a female in the movie was ever taken prisoner. The Howling 2 was probably one of his favorite moments. Alan and he had just finished picking out pumpkins to carve for Halloween from a local farm and he had gone into his room to make sure the VCR was taping the movie, which he had read about in TV Guide. The description hadn’t said anything about a girl being strung up from her wrists, but had mentioned they would be in Transylvania and that there would be castles, which meant the possibility of dungeons, which was enough for him to tape it. Sure enough a scene came on where the main female girl was captured. After that Jimmy sat down and waited to see where the girl ended up, heart racing, mind unable to focus on anything but the TV screen. And then the scene arrived. It started out with the camera zoomed in on a wall of skulls while a girl moaned in the background. The moan was what really got him excited. After that the camera started to shift to the left. Jimmy’s heart raced even faster, his groin tingling, his mind begging for a ‘hanging from the wrists’ scene, and then, there she was, hanging from her wrists. It was an amazing moment, one which other guys might compare with an early discovery of Playboy or Penthouse. Afterward Jimmy had watched the scene over and over again, his hand constantly bringing him to orgasm until finally he grew tired of it and went in search of other scenes.
What happens when you get tired of Samantha and Megan? Jimmy asked himself suddenly.
An unpleasant answer followed.