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All I can do is stand rooted, my eyes wide with shock and my heart racing like a wild horse trapped in a burning barn.
The world slows down around me yet everything races inside of me.
Every shot he takes hits a target, red blossoms, exactly like you’d see in the movies. Only this isn’t a movie. These are real bodies dropping to the ground, real blood, real screams of terror and for a change I’m not the one screaming.
“Stay there,” he growls. I stand frozen as I watch him shove open a heavy looking door to my right. I hear cursing. “Fuck!” someone yells and then there are more shots.
Any normal person would run screaming from this nightmare, but I stand frozen as I watch them die. I imagined a lot of ways for them all to die, but not this, not such easy deaths. I wish they were burning, just like the container outside.
Predator comes back into the living room. His face looks grim, his eyes constantly searching for a target.
He looks like a predator. Now I understand his name.
His eyes settle on me, and just a look from him makes my heart leap to my throat. He lifts the gun a few inches higher and it points directly at my head. The second it takes for his finger to squeeze the trigger, I look into his eyes. They are cold and calculating. There are no emotions, only a loud bang, louder than all the others and I can’t make myself duck for cover. I don’t even flinch as I feel a slight burn on my cheek, and then I hear something heavy drop behind me. I exhale a trembling breath as terror makes my blood race hot through my veins.
Shit, he could’ve shot me! I can’t even bring myself to curse him.
“Good girl,” he breathes darkly. He takes my hand and he pulls me toward the front door. I do my best not to look at the bodies but my eyes are drawn to them, soaking them in with a crazy sense of relief.
We’re almost to the door when I spot the camera. I pull at his arm to get his attention. “Wait, it’s the camera.” It’s lying on the coffee table with the tripod and a small stack of memory cards next to it.
“And?” he snaps. Obviously he doesn’t know about it.
“They made recordings of me for-” I stop but I don’t have to say more because he catches on.
“We need a bag. Touch nothing but the bag.” He’s starting to sound really tense. I don’t like that he’s tense. So far he’s been the calm one between the two of us. We can’t both lose our sanity and it’s clear I’ve totally lost my mind already.
We find a paper bag in the kitchen. As we rush towards the living room, my foot slams into something hard and I almost trip. I’ve been trying not to look at the dead faces and blood that’s all around me, but my eyes dart down. I see blood, fuck there’s so much! Then recognition sinks hard to the pit of my stomach. It’s Steven! I recoil back with revulsion.
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“Don’t start that shit now. We need to get out of here,” Predator snaps at me. He nudges me forward and with shaking hands I help him shove the camera and memory cards into the bag.
He grabs my hand again and pulls me out the front door. I look straight ahead of me and then I see grass. I yank free and rush forward as if I’ve finally been set free. Once I’m off the porch, I run as fast as my trembling legs can move.
I don’t get far before my legs give way and I eat gravel, not grass. I didn’t even make it that far.
I’m too scared to move.
I’m too petrified to look back at what’s coming.
I hear the gravel crunch behind me and my heart sinks. My insides drop and I start to cry. I sob because not even God will help me.
“Cara.” My head snaps up at the sound of my name. It’s the way he says it, as if he actually cares. It sounds comforting. “It’s time to go. You’re safe now.”
When he crouches next to me, I get my first good look at him. His dark brown hair is short and neat, shaved at the sides. His face is grim and hard, with a beard that only makes him look grisly and dark. He looks like he’s made of stone. Then I see his eyes, gray eyes. Ferocious eyes.
I drop my eyes from his. He definitely has eyes that see everything, just like the walls I was trapped between saw everything.
For a moment emotions threaten to bubble up, to drown me in the horror of what has been done to me, but I close my eyes and focus on the emptiness that’s blackening my soul. I’d rather take the empty feelings over the memories of the nightmare I’ve been living through.
“We’re going to leave now. Can you walk?’ he asks, ripping me from my dark thoughts. I try to get up but what adrenaline I had is gone now. “Okay, no walking then,” he says. His arms slip under me and he lifts me. I feel small in his arms. He’s so much bigger than me, but I feel small because there’s nothing left of the person I once was.
He walks and I don’t even care where, as long as it’s far from the container.
It feels like I’m shutting down, my mind, my body, my soul – every piece of me is tired of fighting.
“You’re safe. I have you now,” are the last words I hear.
