Adventure
All Ezines
Best of Stories By Email
Crime Drama
Fantasy
General Interest
Horror
Inspirational
International
Magical
Military
Mystery
Poetry
Romance
Science Fiction
Self-Help
Thriller
Travel
Western
Young Adult
Bumps In The Night
Long
Distance
|
 |
|
Mercy Killing --
Part 7
by Cynthia Piromalli
|
|
|
It was late into the afternoon now, the sun belting down into the bathroom window which made my eyes sting more than they already were.
I tried on several occasions to move my hands around in the rope to maybe make myself a little more comfortable, if not to possibly free myself and finish Robert the bastard off. But the struggling only made matters worse. The skin was beginning to rip from my wrists, and I could feel droplets of bloody trickle down my arms until they settled on my shoulders where the deep rich colour hit the corners of my eyes menacingly.
And the effort was telling on me. I had lost strength and energy, and finally I was almost swaying with exhaustion, the rope creaking with every movement.
The shower curtain rail had begun to bend so we were now almost standing. I was still waiting for the damn thing to drop on our heads. I'd rather it kill us than Robert.
Robert practically went about his daily routine, eating and perching his worthless self in front of the television. Every now and then he came in to check on us, to see if we were dead yet most probably. And he couldn't leave the room without giving one of us, if not both of us, one of his well executed slaps. They were usually given to me.
The gun was kept perched in front of us on the basin to remind us of our sins or something. I just wanted to grab the bloody thing and jettison bullets from it into his deranged brain.
Christina spoke.
"It's no use. He's going to kill us, I know he is."
She sobbed uncontrollably, but I was too exhausted to even answer her. I just hung my head and moaned. She cried even harder.
Robert, roused by the noise, came in. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head up to meet his ugly face. I could barely open my eyes.
"How's it hangin'?" He laughed, then slapped me again. I don't know how many times I had been slapped by this stage, but it felt like someone had been giving me a facial with liquid nitrogen.
"You wanna come down from there, little girl?" He laughed loud, and I knew this wasn't an invitation. He cut me from the curtain rail with a huge kitchen knife in one swift action. I hit the floor with a thud and only had the energy to lie there while his heavy work boots thundered around me. I was waiting, almost patiently, for one of them to come down on the back of my head. Instead, he yanked me up by the rope that still bound my wrists.
I heard Christina scream.
I was dropped carelessly to the floor again as he made his way over to her. I heard Chris pleading, but what she said sounded muffled to me. I only heard Robert, with that awful booming drawl of his.
"Don't hurt her? Don't hurt HER?! Look what the little moron did to me!" There was silence, then "Yeah, pretty disgustin' ain't it?"
I was hurled up again in the same fashion as before. He moved in close to me.
"You stink, kid. How about we give you a little bath?"
I was kept held up as I heard a tap being turned on to what sounded like full speed. Chris pleaded again through choking sobs. Robert paid no attention to her and simply waited for the bath to fill. He turned the tap off finally and pulled me close to his face again.
"We're gonna get you nice and clean." Then the next thing I knew, my head was shoved violently into a tub full of water as cold as a domestic water supply could get. He pulled me up after a couple of seconds. I spluttered, my eyes wide open. If anything was going to wake me up, that bloody well was.
"You're still not clean. This may take a while." And before I knew it, my head was shoved back into the bath. My head met the bottom, though the impact wasn't as bad as it could have been and I remained conscious. For a while anyway.
I could just hear Christina's screams through the water.
I had a feeling that there were worse screams to come.
© Cynthia M. Piromalli 2002
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
|
|
|
|
MPEG-4 Website Video
|
|
|
