Kidnapped by a Killer (Edited Version)

Chapter 13

When I awoke, I was immediately greeted with a relieving, yet concerning reprieve. Normally, I would be jolted into consciousness by that damn whip that Rowen seemed to love so much. He would beat me awake without a moment's notice just to watch the terrified expression on my face. However, that morning -or night; I wasn't sure which anymore- I awoke alone.

Pushing myself into a sitting position, I looked around the empty room. Though it was nice to be able to breathe in my first few hours of wakefulness, it was bittersweet. The only other time Rowen had done something out of schedule, it had meant bad things for me. Not only that, but I was also still just as exhausted as I had been before I had fallen asleep. It apparently didn't matter whether or not I slept through the night, I still looked and felt like shit.

My stomach growled, indicating I was low on food. Unfortunately, it was more than likely I wouldn't see another plate of dry toast for at least a day. Rowen had been forgetting the last few times he had visited me, and I doubted he would remember now. As I put my arms around my naked shoulders for the barest amount of warmth, I pulled my legs up to my chin. Best to just sit still and wait than waste my energy trying to escape, I told myself.

I didn't move from that spot for the rest of the day, and I was beginning to think with rising relief that maybe Rowen wasn't coming. However, that dream was dashed several hours later when, just as I was drifting off, the door was thrown open and Rowen stepped in with a scowl.

I shrunk away as he stormed up to me and grabbed a handful of my hair. "What the hell have you been doing?" he asked.

I winced. "What? Nothing-"

"I got a call from my neighbor telling me he thought he heard sounds coming from my house," Rowen said, voice growing louder with each word.  "So, I'll ask you again. What have you been doing?"

I shook my head, still confused. "I didn't do anything, I swear- Ah...!"

He yanked on my hair relentlessly. "Tell me," he demanded.

My nails dug into the back of his hand as I tried to wriggle free. "I promise," I gasped. "I've just been here. I haven't done anything-"

He slapped my cheek to shut me up, and I yelped in surprise, eyes wide as he glared at me. "You better tell me now, or so help me, I'll beat the answer out of you," he threatened. "Are you going to keep lying to me?"

I shook my head, tears rolling down my cheeks as the pain to my scalp became almost unbearable. "I'm not lying!"

Rowen threw his fist into my stomach. I cried out and doubled over, but he yanked me back up to face him. "I can hurt you in so many ways right now, and I don't care if I kill you." He pointed to the heads hanging from the ceiling. "Do you think I had second thoughts when I killed them?"

I shook my head, gasping out, "No," as I blinked stars from my eyes.

He made me look at him again. "Then you better start talking before you get the same treatment they did," he warned.

For the next hour, I swore to the high heavens that I hadn't made a peep all day, but in the end, he didn't believe me and I received several new injuries on top of my existing ones. 

When Rowen was finished beating me, he stood over me breathing almost as hard as I was. He threw the whip in a far corner and smoothed his hair back. After composing himself, he said, "The only reason I'm not killing you right now is because of Cliff, but don't think for a second I won't if I ever catch you causing problems for me again."

His words were meant to scare me, but I barely even hear them. I lay on my side, shaking as blood dribbled from my lips and mixed with the tears pooling between my cheek and the cement floor. The world looked fuzzy, but I wasn't sure if that was from my tears or the struggle to keep my eyes open. I didn't even notice when he left the room until the slamming of the door made me involuntarily flinch.

At some stage of my grief, I must have begun sobbing because the ringing in my ears became deafening and my head throbbed from the effort. Part of me knew I shouldn't cry, that it was a waste to do so, but I was so past caring that I let myself indulge in my sorrows for what felt like hours. I wanted to die. Death, at this point, sounded like a welcoming embrace, and if crying would get me there, I was more than happy to cry until I suffocated myself.

Unfortunately, I didn't suffocate. But I did eventually run out of tears and resigned myself to laying emotionlessly on the floor like a corpse. I was just starting to pick myself up again and declare my pity-party officially over when I heard the lock on the door begin clicking like it was being unlocked. The thought that I would have to endure even a second more of Rowen's torture was devastating and I dragged myself into the farthest corner without even getting up. What else was there to do than sit though it and pray for release, I told myself.

I sat there with my face in my knees, and when the door finally opened, I braced myself for whatever was to come next. But instead of pain or harsh words, I heard a gentle voice say, "Zane, is that you?"

I lifted my head and there, standing in the doorway looking like he wasn't even sure who he was seeing, was Cliff. Our eyes met and I almost whimpered with relief. Without a word, I stumbled over like a desperate animal, and he knelt down to catch me in his arms.

"Oh, God. What did he do to you?" he asked, pulling me closer.

I clung to his shirt and buried my face in it, unable to answer in the form of words the atrocities that I had endured in his absence.

Thankfully, that was answer enough and his face hardened. "I'm taking you home," he said, pulling away only long enough to tug his shirt off and pull it over my head. It was warm and soft, unlike so many of the things I had been put through, and my head went fuzzy at the touch of the shirt. It was such a relief.

I was readily reaching up to hold Cliff's neck so he could carry me when there was a thud and Cliff grimaced. I stared in confusion as he fell forward, then at Rowen as he entered the room, club in hand. He was laughing, but it sounded strained and just a little bit angry. "Well," he said, "that was unexpected, wasn't it, Zane?"

*******

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