Never Alone

Chapter 29

            Sitting in a hard, wooden chair, Annie gazed through hazy vision at the lanky, bearded man they called Bagwell. Her head ached, and her mouth filled with the copper taste of blood.

"I'm not going to ask you again, girly. Where is Doctor Winthrop?" The black streak of malice in his voice sent a deep chill down her spine.

"I...I don't know who you're talking about. Please let me go." She hated to whimper and beg like a child, but her shredded nerves left her with no other recourse. Who is Dr. Winthrop? How would I ever know where he is?

"You want to do this again?" Bagwell motioned to the bucket and cloth on the table and tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head.

"Please don't." Her words were no more than a strangled whisper. "Please."

The hardness in his hazel eyes softened slightly his shoulders drooped and he knelt down beside her. "Look," he said. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I've got to know where Dr. Winthrop is. If you don't tell me, someone who enjoys hurting people will take over, and I'd hate to see what they do to you."

Her hands trembled beneath the ropes holding her wrists firm against the arms of the chair. "If I knew who you were talking about...I would tell you. I've never met anyone with the last name of Winthrop in all my life. I don't have the information you want. I wish I did."

"You have to know something." His eyes pleaded with her.

The pock-marked metal door across from her burst open and an unfamiliar figure filled the door. "Any progress, Bagwell?" He wore his hands firm on his hips.

Bagwell shook his head, and the stranger strode into the room. "Let me show you how it's done." A wicked glint sparked in his dark eyes.

Without the slightest tinge of pity or compassion, he leaned her chair backward, covered her nose and mouth with the cloth, and jerked the chair back. She watched in horror as he lifted the bucket of water and tipped it until a rush of cold, murky liquid slammed against her face. The cloth did little to absorb the moisture and it crept up her nose and inched down her throat until her lungs caught fire in their frenzied struggle for air. Fighting against the ropes at her wrists sent lightning bolts of pain zapping up her arms. She tried to cry out but opening her mouth invited more water in choking her.

Oh God, Trevor said he'd find me, but he's dead. Please, either get me out of here or let me die quickly. I don't have the strength to handle this much longer.

Her heart ached in tandem with her throat and eyes, and after what felt like hours, the man slammed the chair back to the ground and tore the rag away from her mouth.

"Ready to talk now, beautiful?" His warm breath hit her neck tying her stomach into a knot. He eyed her like he truly saw her for the first time. "You know...you really are a looker." Licking his bottom lip, he eyed her like a lioness eyes a gazelle. He trailed his fingers up her arm as the fire of shame and revulsion burned on her skin. "Maybe there's another way to deal with you. Something a little more...enjoyable for me."

The unmasked hunger burning inside him dilated his pupils. She swallowed hard. "I don't know who Dr. Winthrop is," she croaked through her burned throat. "I don't have what you want."

"Oh, but I think you do." His gaze snapped to Bagwell. "Get out of here," his voice was husky. "We need a minute...or an hour. Yeah...make it an hour."

As the door clicked behind Bagwell, her heart quaked and her skin tingled. He inched closer eating her alive with his gaze.

Fighting against the ropes, a sharp sting pricked her wrist, and blood trickled from a fresh rope burn. Jerking her eyes back up to him, she watched as he knelt down and caressed her face with his fingertips. When Trevor did this to her, the electricity of his touch sent the butterflies in her heart fluttering. When this man stroked her cheek, a dirty, sickening feeling settled all over her.

"You are beautiful." He bruised a kiss against her pressed lips while his hand unfastened the button on her jeans. She struggled, but her efforts fell flat.

His hand crept underneath her shirt, and fire ignited within her. Parting her lips, he hungrily took it as permission to deepen the kiss but she clamped her teeth down on his bottom lip until he screamed in pain. Pulling back he looked at her. Blood trickled down his chin and he wiped it away.

"You're a feisty one." A wicked smile tilted his lips. "I like that in a woman."

As he neared her once more, she prayed. God, please let me die before he... She couldn't even pray the word. It was too vile. So she finished the petition with one word. Please.