credits:evansdoll (tumblr) go follow them:) warnings: contais gore, torture and swearing.
word count: 1302
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Darkness...
My name is (Y/N). Yes, (Y/N) March, the wife of the successful businessman James P. March, owner of the Cortez, a hotel in Los Angeles. I was abducted. I think I've been here for about seven days, but this isn't an exact projection. I might be here much longer or even less. I don't know, I've lost track of time down here. All I have left is the darkness and dripping wetness of this nightmare that I am at. My head hurts. I feel very cold. I'm here, trapped, inside this dark, filthy , tight, stifling hole ... I know I'm here because of James.
I have never done bad, evil things. I have always helped people, close or far, I have participated in charity events, I donate a lot of money to the poor, I finance works of art and academics from those who could not, I have always acted with fairness and ethics at work, and especially in the family. I don't deserve this... I'm stunned. I don't wanna credit someone to whom I have done good, this cruel, violent and inhuman act of putting an individual under these conditions in which I find myself at.
I believe that I've done something wrong, involuntarily.- I think it would be a horrible punishment, an unacceptable torture even for the worst criminal. And yet, here I am. In a hole about half a meter in diameter and ten deep. Walls of a black smelly land, as if it were sewage. Yeah, maybe that's right: given the depth of where I am and the poorly finished walls of the place.
My head seems to want to explode. Darkness obviously affects my visual perception of things, my reasoning, my ability to disagree...I have not eaten well for a long time. Before, they'd throw pieces of bread, some fruits already eaten or rotted... water? Only when it comes from some corner of this hole, and then I have to lean my tongue against the wall to suck the black cauldron that flows, with putrid taste and bitter as gall. But this is what is keeping me alive in these days (or hours?).
I don't remember how I ended up down here...
The last thing I remember, before waking up in this fucking chamber of terror, is to be crossing the street to get into the Cortez, and hearing someone calling me by my name. As I turned around, I felt someone gripping my arm and the blow made me faint. Thick ropes tie my wrists and ankles, and however great my efforts, the most I can do is getting hurt.
Impossible to escape from this trap. Brilliant and sadistic! I'm not gagged. So I scream! I scream for hours. Every now and then, I hear laughter, far away. Pure mockery of my meager efforts. I'm tired, hungry, weak, almost ragged. I can't take it anymore.
I'm going to faint right here...
*
Hours Later...
I feel my body shaking, which makes me wake up startled. I cannot see. I guess I'm blindfolded. By the continuous swing, I am able to deduce that I am sitting in the backseat of some car.
"I am glad you're awake, little one."
The voice that I hear gives me shivers. A knot begins to form in my throat and my skin acquires an even paler tone.
"John?" I am able to whisper with a shaky voice. The gag doesn't allow me to yell, though.
"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, (Y/N). It kills me to know it had to be you. But you know your husband destroyed my life...Unstructured my entire family. I need to get my revenge, (Y/N). I know, I know! You've always supported me, heard me when I needed to rent, were my shoulder to cry on..." John stayed in silence for a few, it seemed as if he was trying not to cry. "You have to forgive me. I really thought about killing Elizabeth instead, but it wouldn't work out. It would never work out. You are March's newest obssession, the only light that shine through the darkness of his pathetic post-death immortal life."
"GOD DAMN IT! COULD YOU PLEASE STOP CRYING, (Y/N)?" John yelled, making me cry harder. God, I wanna stop, but I can't...I am too weak...
I feel the car braking abruptly...
"I am so sorry...but I can't stand seeing you in that way...I love you..." John says before opening the door, closing it with certain violence. Then, I hear him opening the trunk, and the silence prevails for about twenty minutes, I am not sure about the exact time.
Moments later, the door next to me is open and John roughly pulls me out by my arm. A muffled scream escapes my throat as I'm dragged to god knows where. It rains a lot, and the mud dirties my bare feet. John whispers a few words sweetly, wrapping me in a tight hug. So he pushes me. I fall backwards into a deep hole.
Judging by the soft earth and the tight environment, it is a grave. I despair. I feel the earth hitting my skin. I'm being buried alive. I begin to consider a faster death, like a shot in the head. This is macabre stuff...
And suddenly, all the unforgettable memories with James come flashing into my disturbed mind. How cruel he could be with other people, but how kind and romantic he was with me. James was the first man who gave me flowers, who besides telling me, show me and make me feel how beautiful I am. He made me feel a strong, sensual, independent woman. Many consider him a monster, but I knew his innocent side. A path with no return. Because a villain, is nothing but a victim whose story has never been told."
John keeps throwing down the earth, and eventually I stop struggling. Soon, the mud is already hitting my face. Yup, I'm going to die right here...
"You traitorous bastard!"
I hear the piercing voice and my husband's striking accent echoing through the thunders that cut through LA's nightly sky. His words are filled with hatred, and the weight of betrayal seems to weigh on his shoulders. John Lowe. The man who James trusted, now stabbed him on the back. He was a perfect illusion.
Punching, growling, jerking and shrieking can be heard from within the grave, and my heart races,violently hammering my chest.
Finally, I feel a gentle, kind of desperate touch gripping my arm, gently pulling me into a man's lap. My man. My James.
The blindfold that is tied around my eyes is ripped off, along with the gag. Tears fall from my eyes, trickling down my face, my skin dirty from lack of hygiene. A relieved scream escapes my throat as I feel James's strong arms being tightly wrapped around my waist.
"Darling, I am right here. I am so sorry I ever let this happen to you." He says softly, pulling my face to press against his chest, probably being shameful of his tears.
"James...It's Halloween, what about Devil's Night?" I ask through my tears, slightly shaking.
"I couldn't care less about Devil's Night, my dear!" James mutters, a tone of disbelief in his voice. "You are far more important than anything else, (Y/N). I promise that he will never harm you again. Do not worry your pretty head about that, sweetheart."
"I love you, James. So much..."
James gently scoops me up, bridal style. He kisses my forehead, starting to slowly walk away from that horrible place.
