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I try to run the moment he stops the car, even though I already know it’s pointless. That’s why I went with him, after all. But there’s something so cold and psychopathic about him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent some dismembered part of my body to Celeste in the mail, and I would prefer to keep all my limbs.
We stop outside of the city, where the landscape has flattened into rolling fields and the occasional grain silo. The horizon is ominously orange, sunrise so close my skin feels hot and prickly. He lets me get all the way from the lonely hangar he’s parked his car beside to the road. When he does follow, he trails behind me for a while. I know he’s playing with me and I still keep running, too proud to simply give up.
When he’s finally had enough and catches up with me, he wraps his arms around me, pinning mine to my sides. He’s strong enough he could probably pop me like a party balloon. Now, if I’d had some of Celeste’s blood… but no.
He drags me along the abandoned street and back over the gravel driveway to his car. I kick and bite, trying to wind my way free. It makes him laugh.
“What are you trying to achieve?” he asks. “We’re moments away from sunrise. Do you really want to cook yourself alive rather than spending some time with me?”
“Yes,” I spit.
“That’s the spirit.” He kicks open the sidedoor of hangar and throws me inside.
Immediately, I get up and try to run. He holds me back with ease, catching me by my hair and dragging me further inside. Overhead lights blink awake, illuminating the dreary space. My feet slip on the polished concrete floor as I try to fight back. There’s nothing to hang onto in the wide open space. Only the walls are lined with tool benches, metal drums, and other similarly unhelpful items.
He drags forward a chair and tries to sit me down on it. Twice both the chair and I topple as I resist being slotted between the armrests. The third time, he kicks me a few times while I’m down so I’m too busy with seeing stars to fight.
He’s not sloppy when it comes to tying me down. I’m cocooned in rope, each arm firmly attached to the wood beneath it. There is no moving.
“What do you want?” I try to bite him when he gets too close as he wraps me tighter but miss by a hair’s width. “What’s the point of this?”
He cups my cheek with his palm, carefully avoiding my teeth. “The point is that I know my girl, Deni. She’s a sucker. If I want to hurt her, I have to hurt you.”
I kick at him and shake my head. “You’re wrong. She doesn’t care about me.”
He laughs. “Whatever you say.”
“It’s true!” I’m not sure anymore whether I believe what I’m saying or not. “She’s no better than you. She was just using me.”
“I do agree that she’s no better than me.” He steps back and admires his work. “By the way, you haven’t had any of her blood lately?”
Before I can reply, he seems to have an epiphany.
“Actually, it doesn’t matter!” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “I forget how far technology has come sometimes. We didn’t even have telegrams when I was growing up!”
He rolls up one of the toolbenches and props up his phone so the camera is facing me. I squirm, flexing against the rope.
“Do you want to say hello?” he asks. “You could beg! She might like that.”
I glare at him. “Fuck you.”
With a shrug, he walks past me and toward the rolling gate. I try to crane my neck – what is he doing? An electric whirr tells me the gate has begun opening.
What? He can’t do that. It must be light outside by now.
A narrow strip of newborn sunlight appears to my right, widening with every second. It’s not particularly bright –it’s not even spring and the sun is only just creeping over the horizon. But on a bluebird day even a sliver of winter sun is a death sentence.
I wriggle in my bonds. “What are you doing? Stop it!”
There’s no response. A moment later, the strip is wide enough to touch my elbow. I clench my jaw so I don’t scream. It feels like someone has taken my arm and is pressing it against a hotplate. The pain radiates through the bones in my arm and into my shoulder, hot and white. Smoke starts to rise from my skin and I watch in horror as it begins to bubble up and blister.
Still, the doors are continuing to open. With every inch the sun claims of my body, the smell of burnt flesh becomes more intense. My skin cracks and recedes, leaving fat and muscle bare. Flames lick up of my forearm as it disintegrates, the burns weeping plasma and blood. I howl, unable to contain the pain. The sun creeps over my shoulder and back, blistering the side of my neck and face. Heat and pain radiate through my ear and jaw.
I’ve long forgotten my determination not to beg. “Stop it, please! Stop!”
The vision in my right eye flares orange and then darkens like a dying star as the flames lick over my skin. I can hear the sizzle and burn of my flesh.
“Please!” I sob. Am I crying or melting?
