AllFreeNovel
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He stepped inside and froze. The bucket was knocked over, and surrounding it was dried human waste.
Shit. Piss. What might be puke.
He tried to swallow but couldn’t. Hell, he could hardly breathe. He took a step deeper into the tiny shed and moved his phone in a circle, lighting up the corners, the walls, the floors as he inspected it all.
The floor was concrete, so she had no chance to dig free.
No lights. No electricity. Nothing. No bed or bedding. No clothes. Not even a fucking goddamn blanket.
Nothing.
Not even a window.
Just a small hole up at the top of one wall, where they pumped in the heat. Probably just enough to keep her from freezing.
Heat rose. Didn’t those motherfuckers know that? If she was on the floor, how was she supposed to benefit from that fucking heat?
Dark spots dotted the dirt-crusted concrete. Bloody fingerprints were along the wall in one corner. Two long tracks marked the filthy floor from the door to the center of the shed. Like she had been dragged and her heels had left a path in their wake.
He turned and glanced at the inside of the thick wood-planked door. Solid, handmade, too strong to kick in or kick open. With gaps between the boards just large enough to let in the wind, the cold and the sleet or rain.
He moved closer and held out his phone, lighting it up.
On the inside of the door, at the edges of those boards, were bloody gouges and scratches. Like someone had been clawing to get free.
Someone.
Red.
He wondered how many times she had pressed her face against those gaps and screamed for help, begged for her freedom, or hoped someone would come along and save her.
He had no idea how she got out of this sadistic jail. This cell no bigger than the ones he’d lived in for years. Though the concrete boxes he’d lived in were more humane than this.
He’d had a toilet, a sink, a mattress pad, even if it was shitty. He didn’t have to sleep on the concrete floor. He had clothes and had a chance to shower, to work out, to get sunlight during his time in the yard. He could buy snacks and cigarettes if someone put money on his account. He could read a fucking book. He could take fucking classes.
He knew what day it was and how long he had left until he’d be free.
She had none of that!
FUCKING NONE OF THAT!
Their goddamn pigs had a better life than she’d had.
He needed to get out of there before he rushed up to that house and sliced everyone’s throat. Or he choked the goddamn clan leader with his bare hands until he was dead. Then filleted him with his knife from nuts to neck.
Or cut off his fucking dick and shoved it down his throat until he suffocated.
Any one of those would do.
He didn’t come prepared for that. To be able to do a hit and run.
He stepped out of the shed and walked a few steps away until he found some air that didn’t burn as badly. Sucking in a breath through his nose, he held it for a count of five and blew it out of his mouth.
Then he did it again when it didn’t work the first time.
When the second time didn’t work, either, he circled the shed to get one more good look at the lay of the land and stopped dead.
“Holy fuckin’ motherfucker.”
He took two more steps and blinked to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” He hit the power button on the side of his phone and lifted it once it lit up.
What the fuck was that used for?
What. The. Fuck. Was. That. Used. For?
Whatever it was reminded him of a sawhorse. But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t used for construction.
Fuck no.
No.
He lifted his phone higher to see it more clearly. Then he moved the light along the object built out of plywood and two-by-fours using some nails and screws.
And four thick leather straps with metal buckles and holes punched into the wide leather.
Those straps were to keep someone in place. But where they were attached on the wood “bench” were at the very bottom of all four legs.
That meant whoever was strapped down was on their belly, spread out, all four wrists and ankles secured tightly.
She had been laid over it and tied down, her hands and feet stretched almost to the ground and her...
Her...
What they needed for easy access to “breed” her exposed.
Jesus Christ. It was some sort of breeding bench.
Being strapped on it, she couldn’t fight. She couldn’t escape.
She just had to lay there helpless.
He jammed his phone back in his pocket and slammed a hand over his mouth to muffle the roar that rushed up.
Falling to his knees, his forehead hit the dirt. Like someone had taken him down with a hard kick to the middle. Someone had sawed out his lungs and spooned out his gut.
