CW: No one is safe. Part 3.

“Write a story about how eight murders have taken place in your character’s town in the past 8 weeks. Once a week, on the same day, at the same time. When your character gets abducted after being out past the town’s new curfew, they have only 48 hours to discover why this is happening and how to get free…all while being tortured by the murderer.”

– a prompt for this week’s CW piece.
[Source: Self-publishing school]

 

This is the third (and final) installment of “No one is safe”. If you have missed the previous two, you can read part 1 –>HERE<– and part 2 –>HERE<–.

 

“It can’t be” – she thought to herself, but before she could say anything else, he cupped her mouth with his hand.

He turned around and pointed towards the direction he came from.

The door was now open and she could see a girl sitting in the middle of the room. Mouth taped. Hands tied behind her. Presumably with zip ties.

She saw in his eyes that she could either remain quiet, or die right there and then.

There was no need to try and call out to the girl, either. She was visibly sedated and wouldn’t even hear her.

“I really didn’t want to hurt you, but you just wouldn’t back off” – he said, pulling her pants down.

“You’re insane.”

“Luckily you’re not someone who can officially diagnose me.”

Only now did Martha notice multiple cuts on her legs.

“Let me change the bandages. They’re soaked.”

But before he did, he cut her more.

“Wha-?”

“I’m tired of hearing you talk” – he said and taped her mouth shut.

He then pulled his pants down and proceeded to enter her.

Martha tried to fight it, but the more she did, the more aggressive he was and she could not go through any more pain for nothing.

He would cut her, change her dressings and rape her multiple times during the next day.

Martha had no idea how long she has been in the smaller room, but she knew the bigger room was coming soon.

Her hands were zipped tied behind her back and her feet were bound as well, but unlike other times, her hands were not tied to a bolt in the floor. Maybe her captor was getting sloppy, or maybe he didn’t think she was capable of doing anything. After all, she was acting in a subdued manner whenever he entered the room. She had lost a lot of blood from all the deep cuts.

It was time to escape. Or at least put up a fight. She jumped towards where she thought the door was and sat down. She was going to wait for him there and jump him the moment he enters the room.

After a couple of tries, she was able to pull her lower body through the loop her bound arms made. Her zip-tied hands were now in front of her instead of behind her. She stood back up, lifted her arms up and then trusted them against her chest. Her wrists were burning, but the zip ties did not break. The second attempt was successful and her hands were finally free. She then took one of her paracord shoelaces out and looped it through the rope that bound her feet together. After a few minutes of pedaling, her feet were free. She could not wait to tell other officers how she freed herself, saved a kidnapped girl and arrested the perp.

Martha was so deep in thought that only after a while she noticed the sliver of light coming from under the door. The scent of his cologne was strong. Citrus and spice. Her eyes widened. Before she could think of a strategy, she placed her hand on the doorknob and pulled the door open.

He was standing behind the blonde girl, whose eyes were glazed over. Only now she realized what all those victims had in common – they all looked like her.

He pulled out a knife from his pocket…

Like every week for the past eight weeks, Sargent Adams was watching the feed from his office.

“My God” – he exclaimed when he saw one of his newest employees – Martha Wattersman.

“Kyle, don’t!” – she shouted and launched in his direction, hoping she could close the distance quicker than he could slash the girl’s throat.

All of the sudden, the note taped to his desk made sense.

“Track me” – it said, but he thought it was a prank.

Adams dispatched his best units to the old shoe factory, but by the time they got there it was already too late. Martha and the nameless girl were too far gone, and Kyle was in the wind.

If only she told her boss what she was planning on doing before she got taken…

***

P.S. As always, you are more than welcome to use this prompt to inspire your post. If you decide to write something, be sure to pingback to this post, so that I can get an alert and check out your post. (A post on how to do pingbacks can be found here.) If pingbacks are not your thing, feel free to simply leave a link to your piece in the comment section below. The more, the merrier!

Stay golden,

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