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Mercy Killing --
Part 6
by Cynthia Piromalli
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I have no idea how long I was unconscious for. Robert hit me good after my failed murder attempt on him. A justified hit I suppose, considering the circumstances.
The first thing I felt when I woke up was the sensation of burning on my wrists. My eyes followed my arms, stretched upwards, joining the shower curtain rail with industrial rope, tied much too tight.
Chris was hanging beside me in the same fashion, our feet barely kissing the floor. My shoulders were aching. I guess we must have been there a while before I awoke.
Robert sat, oh so calmly, on the hand basin. The bullet from the gun that had plummeted into his arm only a while before was now ling in a small pool of blood next to the pair of pliers he had evidently taken it out with.
"Tough bastard."
He gave me an ugly smile. "A lot tougher than you thought."
He laughed - a dull, ugly roar that bounced off the porcelain tiles viciously. The echoes continued when he stopped laughing and rang in my ears. My head hurt.
Robert stopped laughing and looked at us, his grin turning into a grimace. He stood, walked over and loomed over us, even as we hung up there like that. He looked at us hard. Chris shook harder than ever before and the curtain rail rattled so hard above us that I was sure it would give way at any moment. I remained as still as I could and returned Robert's stare with cold knives.
The silence was broken as Robert raised his hand and suddenly slapped Chris hard on the face. She screamed sharply. I didn't flinch.
He moved over to me, closer and closer, until our faces were only millimetres apart. "I know you, little girl. I know what you think of me. And I know you know what I did to your mother."
"Damn right I do, you ..." he interrupted me with a slap across the face which made my ears ring, my cheek sting and my eyes water. He sure knew how to deliver those goddamn things.
"Shut your smutty mouth, you little cow."
"Screw you!"
He seemed somehow satisfied with my response. He gave me that revolting smile again and stepped away slowly.
He sat on the basin and lit a pre-kill cigarette.
© Cynthia M. Piromalli 2002
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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Connecticut
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