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My eyes snapped open, and instantly my heart started to pound hard and fast in my chest. I had no idea why, but I felt panicked. I sat up, thinking something must have woken me, then instantly lay back down as the world around me spun way too fast. A feeling of nausea hit me next, almost instantaneously rushing over me, and I clamped my hand over my mouth, worried I was about to vomit.
I took some deep breaths to gain back control as I tried to remember why I felt so terrible. I felt hungover, but magnified by a hundred times. And I knew that couldn’t be right. I had been hungover exactly three times in my life, all of which were during high school and college, and the last time it had been so bad I swore I would never drink heavily ever again. And I had stuck to that rule for years now.
Eventually the spinning of my head stopped enough for me to dare to open my eyes, but the light that greeted me had me slamming them shut again quickly, as pain shot through my head blindingly.
“What the fuck?” I gasped as I grabbed my head in both hands to try and make the throbbing pain stop. When my right hand touched something wet and sticky on the side of my head and in my hair, I pulled it back and forced my eyes open again to look. Blood. That was enough to have me sitting up, alarmed. I expected to be in my bed, or maybe a hospital bed with the blood issue, but no.
My breath left me as I tried to take in my surroundings, dimly lit by a single, dull lightbulb on the ceiling above me. I was on a mattress which lay on the floor of a room that couldn’t have been more than two meters across each way. And ‘room’ was a generous description of the dank, damp smelling cell surrounding me. There was no window, and the walls looked like they were crumbling, mold growing up every one of them. A door sat opposite me, and it looked to be made of steel or some other solid metal. There was no handle on that side of it.
I struggled through the dizziness to get to my feet as panic completely consumed me. Once I was up I stumbled over to the door and tried to push it, but it didn’t budge. I slammed my hands on it, hoping it was just stuck, but of course nothing happened.
“Hello?” I yelled as I tried hard to make my muddled brain think straight. What was the last thing I remembered? Dean- the cheating bastard! My family helped me get my stuff from his place and move it back home to mom and dad’s. That was the last thing I could recall but obviously something had happened!
I looked down at myself for other injuries. I was still in the shorts and tank top I had been wearing last I remembered, and apart from an ache at the back of my neck, I felt unharmed. Well, except for the wound on my head.
When no one answered to my calls I turned back to the room and looked around for any clue as to where I was, or better yet, a way to get the fuck out. Tears were burning my eyes, but I refused to give into them. I was going to be okay. I was going to get out of there. My brothers would know I was gone now and they would come for me. Whoever had put me in this hole was going to die when Kyle got his hands on them.
Rattling on the other side of the door had me freezing in place. It took a second for my addled brain to work out someone was coming in, but when I did I sprang into action, darting across the space to hide at the side of the door. I wasn’t in great shape with the knock to the head I had clearly taken, but I was clear minded enough to take the chance for escape. Besides, I didn’t need to think. My brothers and my dad had drilled the self-defense, that they had taught me so many times over the years, that I was sure it would just be instinct.
The door was opened violently and a whoosh of cold air rushed in as though the cell was outside. When I heard heavy footsteps move forward into the room, I didn’t hesitate, swinging around so I was face to face with whoever stood there, my knee rising straight up to where I hoped to god there was a crotch.
But the guy in the doorway was huge, and I ended up kneeing him in the thigh. Not as effective as I had hoped. He was taken by surprise though, so I used that to my advantage, using the heel of my right hand to thrust up into his nose. He saw the move coming though, and grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back. I kicked backwards, catching his knee just as I had hoped, but it was like hitting concrete. He barely even made a grunt before he shoved me across the room with such force, I smashed into the wall opposite, then crumpled into a heap, my head spinning violently once again.
“Don’t try that again,” he panted, sounding a little out of breath. I looked up to where he was towering over me. He was tall, dressed all in black, and his face was covered with a black balaclava. “You can’t escape.”
“What the fuck is this? Where am I?” I gasped as tears once again threatened.
“Not important,” he replied, his deep voice making me shudder. This was so bad.
“What do you want with me?” I asked instead, trying hard to keep my shaking voice steady. Adrenaline was coursing through me, making my entire body rattle.
“I want you to beg,” he sneered, the joy that lit his eyes with those words completely terrifying.
“I will never bag for a damned thing from you, you sonofabitch!” I growled low, my fear being overridden by anger.
“You’re strong,” he told me. “But you will beg eventually, Eight. They all beg me to end them eventually.” It felt like all of the blood rushed from my head as I heard those words, and suddenly the nausea was back.
Eight. He called me Eight. I had seen the story on the news for months – the serial killer the FBI were working overtime to catch before he struck again. This was him. It had to be. I was trapped at the mercy of a serial killer who had already left six victims in his wake.
“Fuck you!” I hissed as I looked up at him with dread and hatred in equal parts.
“That fire is good. Gives me something to break,” he told me coldly, then he lunged at me, gripping me by a handful of my hair and dragging me from the room, across the cold, rough, concrete floor.
“NO!” I screamed as I grabbed at his hand and tried to fight him off of me.
“Evie! Evie, wake up!” My eyes shot open at the feel of hands on my arms. I didn’t take the time to register who it was or where I was. Panicked from the nightmare and consumed by my terror, I shoved my knees up between me and my attacker and kicked out, sitting up and just running when he was launched backwards, away from me.
I couldn’t think straight, didn’t even consider where the hell I was. I just saw a door that led outside and ran for it. I was almost there, my fingertips touching the doorknob when strong arms banded around me, trapping my arms at my sides, and lifting me clean off of the ground.
A scream ripped from me, but I didn’t hesitate to throw my head back in a headbutt – something my brothers had always taught me should be a last resort. But it worked, even if my head was throbbing, and the room spinning. Whoever had grabbed me, cried out and released me enough for me to get an arm free of his grip. I thrust my elbow into a hard chest, which earned me another grunt and finally I was free.
I could hear shouting behind me as I reached for the door, but it barely registered past my fight to get free this time. I got the door open, tears of relief filling my eyes as I leapt all three steps in one huge bound. I ran across cold, rough stone, then hit the snow covered lawn. Fences surrounded me, but I would climb it if I could just get there.
But I didn’t get there. A huge weight hit me from behind, lifting me clean off of my feet before I toppled over. Before I had time to fight, arms banded around me again, my own arms pinned just as before, then we were on the ground, my legs pinned too as he wrapped his huge ones around me, completely incapacitating me. I could feel him beneath me, his body firm and huge.
“No!” I cried as I realised I had failed again. Soloman had caught me. I tried to throw my head back, not even considering I likely already had a concussion, just frantic to get away, but my energy was depleting, and whoever held me saw it coming and dodged the brunt of the hit.
All of my fight left me as I realised it was over. He had me and I didn’t know if I could really survive another of his sessions. This was it. He was going to get what he wanted from me. He had won. I started to sob, unable to stop it from happening. I hated that he would see me break. I had fought so hard to survive, but I didn’t have any fight left.
