Kidnapped by a Killer (Edited Version)

Chapter 12

Sam and James looked over dozens of files on Clifford Dine, but after a report of him leaving the last foster care home he had been placed in, there wasn't much on him until several years later when he surfaced as a student in a local college. However, he didn't have a job at the time and he wasn't receiving aid from the government, so the agents knew he had to have been getting help with his tuition costs from somewhere else. That was when they caught a break.

His tuition was being paid by a man named Rowen Thompson. When Sam called the home address listed on the man's file, they were greeted by a man who introducing himself as such. "Thompson speaking, who is this?" a smooth voice said.

"This is agent Sam of the FBI," Sam said, looking at James. "We're looking for any information you may have concerning a man named Clifford Dine."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I know Clifford. I looked after him for a while when he was going through a rough patch," the man said. He sounded concerned to hear the FBI were the ones asking questions. "Is he alright? He's not in trouble, is he?"

"We just need to know anything you can tell us about his behavior when he was in your care," Sam said. "Was he ever eratic? Angry?"

"No, no. Nothing like that at all. He was a quiet kid, real sweet once you could get past his walls. He had a bad past, his family died, and I think it messed him up for a while," Mr. Thompson explained. "But I helped him get through college, and so far as I know, he's been doing well for himself. I just talked to him the other day actually."

"Really? Was he stressed about anything?" Sam questioned.

"Mm... No? Not that I could tell," Thompson said. He paused. "Is there anything else?"

"Just one last thing," Sam said. "Do you know if he has any property other than the 300 acres he owes near the hospital?"

Again, the man seemed to think very deeply about the question. "I don't think so," he finally said. "Cliff doesn't really like socializing. He spends most of his time either at work, or in that little house he has on his land; it's sort of his sanctuary."

Sam said that he had been quite helpful and they hung up. Back to the drawing board.

*******

I had been in Rowen's home for three days now, and I was beginning to think I'd never leave. Most of the day, I would be left alone to shiver in the chilly torture room. Then at night, when Rowen was home, I would be given "lessons." He would beat me, and strangle me, and when I was close to passing out, he was lay with me and talk like we were just having a friendly conversation. By the time that came around, I would be so exhausted that I wouldn't try to fight him, and I think that was exactly what he wanted.

It was late on the fourth day, maybe afternoon time, when Rowen came to visit me a little early. He brought with him a plate with a piece of toast and a glass of water. "For my pet," he said, setting it down in front of me.

I didn't even look at the plate. "I'm no one's pet," I said with little motivation to sound awake. Those words had become more of a mantra than real defiance. If Rowen wanted to put a stop to me saying them, he wouldn't have to try very hard.

Rowen exhaled slowly, possibly debating on if he was going to put up with me talking back, but in the end, he didn't comment on it. "Suit yourself. See if I care," he said. "It won't be me starving."

He had a point, but even if the food had actually looked good, I wasn't hungry. Not to mention, I had felt so sick by the smell of the room, I hadn't been able to keep down any of my previous meals. The remnants of such was splattered across the floor in the adjacent corner; that certainly didn't help the smell.

"I got an interesting phone call earlier," Rowen said. When I didn't react, he prompted me with more information. "It was a call from the FBI. They're looking for you."

I looked up. "They are?"

Rowen nodded, rubbing at a bloodstain on the wall next to him. "They asked a lot of questions about Cliff. They seem to think he may have you somewhere besides his home," he said. "They must have searched the place sometime after you came here."

My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach. They had already looked for me, and even in the right place. But I hadn't been there for them to find... What rotten luck, I thought dismally.

A firm hand patted the top of my head and I flinched at Rowen's touch, shifting away. "Don't feel too bad," he said grinning. "Trust me, you'll be glad they never found you after I'm through with you. In fact, I'll bet you won't even want to go back to Cliff."

The way he said those words made me shiver. "You're sick," I said.

Rowen chuckled. "Cliff was a lucky man to have you," he said. He brushed a strand of my hair away from my face. "Too bad he couldn't hold on tight enough."

I hated when he touched me, even more than when Cliff did, and Rowen knew that. So, he wasn't surprised when I pushed his hand back and scooted several feet away from him. However, it did seem to irk him and he grabbed my arm.

"Let go," I said, glaring at him.

He didn't. Instead, he pulled me to my feet and towards the door. "Stop being difficult or I'll gag you," he warned.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he dragged me out of the room.

Rowen shrugged. "Cliff neglected to tell me how you were in bed, so I guess I'll just have to figure it out myself," he said. "But I don't feel like fucking you on the floor."

My breath caught and I dug my heels into the living room carpet. "No! Let go of me!"

I started shouting as loud as I could, hoping a neighbor may hear me, but Rowen slammed me into a wall hard. As I was recovered from the blow, Rowen covered my mouth with his hand. "Shut. It," he snarled, and dragged me away from the wall into another room.

*******

I don't know how long it went on, but when Rowen was finished having his fun, he dumped me back in the secret room. He didn't bother to give my clothes back, however ruined they had been, so I didn't have anything to keep me warm as I sat shivering in the darkness. I felt humiliated, vile, and I hurt. I hurt a lot. My whole body ached like I had spent the last several hours being thrown around in an industrial dryer. But not all of it was physical pain.

Cold enough to feel my lips turning blue, I shifted to look in the mirror. In the dimness of the room, I could see where bruises circled my neck and arms from the moments when Rowen had gripped too tight, and others that littered my skin in purple dots. My hair was tangled and my face was red from crying. I looked worse than I had ever seen myself. Just the image made me feel disgusting and I dropped my eyes to the floor. I didn't want to see myself. I didn't want to know myself.

*******

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