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One hand gripping my hair, his other yanks and secures both of my wrists behind my back.
“Stop.” He speaks in the only composed voice he seems to own. “I may not seem like it, but I’m actually pissed off right now. You don’t want to aggravate your situation, Mae.”
My lips tremble. Not only at the unbearable pain at the roots of my hair and the building pressure on my wrists, but also at the fact that I failed my escape and possibly signed my death certificate.
He lifts and throws me over his shoulder. My head dangles on his back. The act so effortless as if he’s carrying an empty bag.
I squeal and thrash in his grasp. My legs kick at his chest, my hands hit his back and shoulders. Anywhere I can reach. If I’ll die, may as well do it while I fight.
His grasp on my thighs tightens, so hard, I’m momentarily paralysed.
“I can drag you by the hair if you find the idea tempting.”
My limbs freeze.
I’m such a coward. Seconds ago, I was going to die fighting. But the simple thought of the biting pain turns me into an obedient fool.
With the position I’m carried in, my head’s veins almost pop at the amount of blood rushing into them. I have to clutch the sides of his shirt to stop my head from hitting his back at every move. I’m acutely aware of my breasts pressing against the warmth of his back muscles. I curse myself for not resenting it.
A mixture of musk and cedar scent creeps into my nose as my kidnapper’s steady strides lead us through the dark grey corridors. Oddly enough, they don’t turn into ghosts of the dark. But again, they never do when I have company.
“So what happens to me now?” I’m proud that my voice comes out normal.
The hushed sound of his shoes fills the silence. It tightens my stomach and raises my pulse even more than words.
“Are you going to kill me?”
Again, no answer.
“Torture me?”
Nothing.
“Would you say something?” I shout, gripping his shirt harder.
“Shut up or I will make you.” His gentleman’s voice takes an irritated turn.
I’m smart enough to abide by his threat. The rest of the walk is spent in deafening silence. Only the sound of my heartbeat buzzing in my ears keeps me company.
Images of butchered dead girls come back to haunt me. Will I be one of them soon?
Don’t go there, Mae. Don’t.
We enter the box-like room, and he kicks the door shut with his foot. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but I’ll take the faint light in this room before the darkness outside any time.
He puts me to my feet with a gentle gesture as if I’m a precious prize.
Maybe I am.
Perhaps he’s one of those psycho killers who, by killing their victims, think they’re doing them a favour.
He’s wearing a tuxedo’s black trousers and a dress shirt. The refined-looking material screams status and wealth. He’s not a stereotype kidnapper, is he?
Trails of blood travelling from his forehead to the left side of his neck, soaking his white collar.
I did that?
A smudge of remorse tugs at my chest. Never in my life have I been violent. But he made me. I had to hit him or I would’ve died.
