by Ian Fox
“Wherever it is you’re going to, John, be happy there,” she told him. She kissed his forehead, then his lips, and went over to his car. “I must get away,” she said aloud to motivate herself.
Her body seemed to weigh a ton and she found it difficult to move. All the muscles were aching and she had deep wounds all over her body that were hurting badly. She looked up at the sky. The stars and the crescent moon were shining brightly. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair.
She opened the car door and climbed in with difficulty. Kitty jumped in after her. Emely resisted looking back; it would be too painful. She just wanted to get away, to go home. I’ve survived, she thought. That’s the most important thing.
Automatically she put her hand under the steering wheel to turn the ignition and speed out of there. Where’s the damn key? She looked around, looking for the key. She thought she noticed something moving outside and checked whether it was true. With horror she saw that it was Ronald.
“Oh no!”
She pressed the button on the door and all the locks engaged. Ronald’s heavy shape was slowly making its way toward her. She began to panic.
Not knowing what to do, Ronald banged his fists against the glass. He yelled, “You won’t get away!”
Emely was looking around in frenzy. She wanted to scream but what was the point in that wilderness with no one around? She kept looking for the key and every time there was a bang on the window, she forgot to breathe. Why did I throw the gun away? How stupid of me.
Her eyes stopped on a cell phone. She stared at it for a few moments, wondering if it was worth calling for help. I don’t even know where I am.
Finally she took it and punched in 911. It rang twice and a voice at the other end said, “911, what is your emergency?”
“My name is Emely Donnovan.”
“Yes,” the dispatcher said.
“I was kidnapped a few months ago. I need help.”
“Just a moment, I’ll put you through to the police.”
“Wait!” Emely shouted. Her eyes widened as she saw Ronald carrying a large stone. She pressed the phone closer to her ear in the hope that someone would appear at the other end.
“How can I help you?” a male voice said.
“My name is Emely …”
A strong bang came from the window on her left.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Emely. Emely Donnovan.”
Another bang.
“How can I help you, Ms. Renvan? I can’t hear you very well.”
When Ronald banged against the window for the third time, she knew she had only moments left. The fine cracks that had spread around the glass indicated that he’d soon be in. She dropped the phone and moved to the backseat. She pressed her legs against her chest, her teeth chattering in horror.
The fourth bang shattered the glass into thousands of small particles that showered onto the car floor. She began kicking her legs as if to ward him off. She was clenching her jaw so hard that her face looked distorted.
“Go away! Leave me alone!”
He took no notice of her words and waved his arms around in order to defend himself against her kicks. “You’re not going to manage it this time, you greedy bitch.”
When Ronald grabbed one of her legs, she gave an almighty scream of despair. Nonetheless, she managed to kick him with the heel of her other foot straight in the forehead. The blow was so unexpected that he let go of her leg and put his hands on the painful spot.
When he saw blood on his hand, he went crazy. “You damn bitch!” With his tongue between his teeth, he again went for her. This time he had more luck. “I’ll show you,” he hissed, his tongue still sticking out. “You won’t get away!” He began to crawl backward out of the vehicle, pulling Emely behind him.
In the hope of avoiding her terrifying destiny, Emely grabbed at whatever was within reach. She managed to wrap her arm around the headrest and refused to let go, but so did Ronald. He pulled her as hard as he could and finally she had to succumb. He was too strong for her and her arms were too weak by now to obey her. He pulled her out of the car and she smashed against the ground.
“Stop, please!”
After glancing at her, he began dragging her toward a small wooden hut for storing gardening and other equipment.
What is he up to? Emely wondered.
She tried to protect herself from the stones scratching her bare skin. She was kicking, but couldn’t get him to loosen his grip and he didn’t stop until they reached the door of the shed, when he stepped back and grabbed her by the neck.
“What … will you do?” Before she managed to ask anything else, she was in the shed.
“Well, now I’ll finish you off once and for all. There will be nothing left but a pile of ashes.” He slammed the door and bolted it from outside.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
She looked around the small space filled with old junk. She took the nearest shovel and tried to smash her way out. As hard as she tried, the door was too solid to budge. In her panic, she kept hitting it until the scooped metal blade of the shovel loosened and fell off. Emely dropped to her knees in despair, no longer crying, just staring at the floor, waiting for the inevitable.
Why didn’t I shoot him earlier?
When in a few moments she heard the sound of metal canisters banging against each other, she became alert again. After a few more moments she heard the sloshing of liquid around the shed. The terrifying smell of gas seeped inside and she could hear Kitty ferociously barking.
“Let’s see who helps you this time, Ms. Donnovan. I have to admit you’re very feisty. In fact, it’s rather a shame to waste you like this. Get away, damn fleabag.”
Emely could only hope that Kitty would be alright. This man is crazy, she thought, but said, loud enough for him to hear through the door, “This means that you’re actually afraid of me.”
“Afraid? … What do you mean?”
“You said you’d improve on the original plan and bury me again.” She bristled at the thought of this really happening.
“Yes, I did say that. But you must admit this new plan isn’t bad either.” He laughed.
Emely dropped the wooden handle. “No, I’m sure you’re afraid of me. I’ve hurt you a few times already.” She tried to make her voice sound as confident as possible.
“What, me afraid of you … how dare you!”
The sound of a match being lit announced what Emely feared most. Then she heard the deep, suffocating sound of fire that instantly spread around the perimeter of the hut and began to lick the thin wooden walls. Now Emely was truly scared.
Even as a child, she was afraid of fire. When she was seven, she had stuck her hand into a fire one day when the nuns were cooking a picnic lunch. By the time she could feel the searing pain, it was too late.
The thick smoke was already making its way through the gaps, irritating the inside of Emely’s nose. In despair she waved her arms around and said in a forcibly calm voice, “Yes, you’re afraid of me.”
The temperature was rising. Emely began hysterically turning over the cardboard boxes stacked neatly one on top of the other. She knew that once inside, the fire would spread within seconds. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t come up with an idea of how to save herself from this inferno. What can I do?
The fire was swallowing everything in its way, ready to turn into ashes the shed and Emely in it. The more it consumed, the larger it became. Emely was starting to realize there really was no help this time. The boxes, filled with all sorts of old things, were on fire now, releasing thick smoke. Emely tried to hide in the only empty corner, her hand on her mouth. The smoke prevented her from seeing and she knew that it was only a question of a few seconds before she died in a horrific torture. For a moment she sensed a white light and thought this was it, salvation, she was dead.
Instinctively she jumped away when the fire came closer. The second she wanted to scream again, the light appeared once
more. It’s daylight. Only a few feet away the wooden door was wide open. Why has he opened it? Because of the smoke she could barely make anything out. With a single leap she jumped over the burning boxes and the next moment she was outside the reach of the fire. She could hear crackling behind her, as if the fire were angry at her for breaking loose of its grasp.
A few yards away, exhausted, she lay on the cool, damp grass that caressed her skin, acting like a wet blanket. She was inhaling the fresh air deeply, coughing from time to time.
Only a few feet away, Ronald was watching her with his hands on his hips. He stood there calmly, watching her suffer. Then he walked over and took her arm. She did not resist, knowing that the door had not opened on its own. She was defeated, exhausted from her struggle for life.
“I’m not afraid of anyone,” he said with pride in his voice. “Least of all, you, Emely Donnovan.”
He pulled her to her feet. She was still catching her breath, grateful that she could breathe at all.
“If you like the original plan so much, let’s do it. I’ll take you there and it’ll all be over very quickly.”
*
Sweating profusely, Ronald wiped his forehead. It would be hard for him to describe the feeling of excitement he had experienced a few minutes ago while he watched the burning shed. Until then he had only witnessed scenes like that in movies and he had always liked them. But this was real. A live woman, made of flesh and blood, surrounded by a horrific fire, awaiting the cruelest and the most terrifying death. And he, who was responsible for it, standing a few feet away, shaking with excitement. He could have helped her, could have saved her, but instead he stood there enjoying the thought that at any moment now she would start screaming and writhing in pain, and then …. All he could feel was miraculous energy surging through his body, wonderful feelings that had occurred only once before: when he and John buried her alive.
With his mouth open he had observed the burning mass and nearly forgot to breathe from the pleasure he was feeling. She was dying in gruesome pain and it aroused him. But why was she not screaming? He expected to hear her last horrifying screams. She should be screaming for his ecstasy to be complete. You damn bitch, scream, scream! he kept repeating. He stood there with his legs wide apart, feeling like a god deciding the punishment for this greedy female being. The thought of having done anything wrong didn’t enter his head and he didn’t regret his actions. But what she had done was a dreadful sin. In times past, people were punished with death for much less. Scream, scream! He so much wanted to hear at least one last scream. Please, please. That was all he wanted. And then it can all go to hell.
But instead of a scream, he had heard: “This means that you’re afraid of me.”
Afraid … me, afraid? What is she getting at, the stupid bitch? I’m not afraid of anyone. His arousal was diminishing. What she said got on his nerves. “Scream, scream and die!” he said, his hands clenched.
She had said again: “Yes, you’re afraid of me.”
How dare she! He was livid and wanted to walk into that burning shed and pull her out. If he had her in his hands at that moment, he would have strangled her. “Damn bitch!”
He took a few steps forward, but a wave of heat hitting his forehead warned him that his presence was unfeasible. He thought, I’ll open the door and let her save herself if she can. His arousal was growing again. He was the one deciding about her death and it had the same effect on him as watching a gladiator fight in ancient Rome. If she’s smart and strong enough, she’ll live. If not, she’ll roast in that fire and die in torture. These thoughts again made him forget to breathe.
After a few seconds she did come out and he was slightly disappointed, but at the same time looked forward to the new games he would come up in which she would die sooner or later.
As Emely lay on that grass, damp from the dew, he was comparing his experiences and arousal of a few months ago when John and he put Emely in that coffin and she resisted them with all her strength before they managed to lower her into that hole. He had to admit to himself that he had been more aroused then than today. Maybe it’s because it’s no longer the first time. Who knows? But today’s experience was somewhat deeper. This was the second time, but he was not embarrassed about what he was experiencing and unashamed of his thoughts. In fact, he was proud and satisfied. This is how the highest and mightiest feel. Why would I be ashamed of my actions? Death is as natural as birth. If people kill animals, why not other people?
That first time he had been totally aroused, but he had also experienced moments of terror over what he had done. If John had not been such a calm and obedient assistant, Ronald would have called the whole thing off. He was scared. After all, it was something he had never done before. But at the same time he was unable to resist. Her struggling and screaming while she was tied to the tree and while they were pushing her into the coffin had brought him a sense of ecstasy he had never before experienced. He could not stop, even if he had wanted to. Deep inside he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. It was unforgettable and unique. No, no. I won’t be ashamed of something perfectly normal. He was sure that others would also feel like that if only they had a chance to kill someone. But of course, it’s not killing without a reason, God forbid. She was stealing and taking money that belonged to others. She didn’t care about the havoc she was causing. She didn’t care that people were committing suicide because she took everything they had. The greedy bitch.
*
While thinking about all this, Ronald was squeezing her throat tighter and tighter. He wanted to squeeze so hard that she would scream and try and resist him. If he had the strength, he would have broken her neck.
But she was barely moving. She felt pain, alright, but she didn’t scream, didn’t resist. Her strength was gone and she didn’t care what he did with her, only that he leave her alone at last. She wanted to die. Her lungs were still stinging from the hot smoke she had inhaled only minutes earlier. Her head was hurting so much that everything was going dark. Like an injured animal, she awaited, perfectly still, for that final blow.
Ronald was looking down at her, enjoying her suffering, and thought how lucky he was that he didn’t leave her in the fire. He turned to the shed. The fire seemed to be breathing like a crazed monster, emitting crackling noises. It danced around, asserting its power. The bright yellows and reds mingled and sparks flew all over. The strong light hurt his eyes and he raised his dirty hand to protect them. He likened it to the delaying of an orgasm, thinking that if you reached the climax immediately, the pleasure was soon over. Only those who could delay it, could keep the ecstasy going. He was glad to have another chance.
He imagined her screaming and banging in the grave while he threw soil onto the coffin and again he felt a surge of energy and he trembled with pleasure.
Emely could feel the pain in her head diminishing and her breathing was getting easier as well. She was still coughing and suffocating, but at the same time she realized that she was still alive. No, I’m not giving up. As soon as there’s an opportunity, I’ll strike. I won’t let him kill me. Not after all that I’ve been through. Her immense hatred toward him surged. She could have shot him or hit him with an ax without any hesitation. If only I could get another chance. This time I’d stun him and then keep hitting him until my strength is gone and I’m sure that his evil heart has stopped forever.
As if sensing her intentions, he grabbed her by the hair and lifted her up. Tears came into her eyes, angry tears, and she made a fist, but just as she was about to hit him he twisted her arm behind her back so that she screamed in pain.
“No silly business!” he warned her. “We’ll go to the car, where I’ll tie you. Don’t try to resist because I’ll break your neck if you do.”
She knew he meant it. He was much stronger than her and mad at her for having beaten him a few times. If only I could have another chance. She nodded and kept looking down, but still watching him with a corner of her eye. He stan
k of sweat and was wheezing as he led her to the car.
Only when he had tied her up and pushed her into the back of the vehicle did he straighten up and take a deep breath. He searched the surroundings, making sure everything was in order. The highest branches were swaying in the wind; the sky was turning light blue. The morning was near. His eyes stopped on John, who was lying motionless on the ground. Ronald took another deep breath and was overcome by sadness, thinking that his brother was never too smart, and feeling sorry about him. His feelings turned to pride when he saw himself as John’s savior. Ronald paused and enjoyed the sensation of the breeze cooling his hot forehead. As if intoxicated, he looked around him. When the wind changed direction and brought smoke to his nostrils, it irritated his nasal passages and he quickly came to and realized that he was about to commit a heinous crime. The corners of his mouth trembled for a moment and then widened into a broad smile.
“Life is wonderful,” he said out loud.
He went to search for the gun. He knew only roughly where she had thrown it and it took him nearly ten minutes to find it. Now he was calm and in a good mood, feeling that he had never been better.
He gave Emely a stern look, wanting to hit her with something, but nothing suitable came to mind. He wanted her to scream a bit. Trying to remember the spot where they had first buried her, he again felt that energy in his body. At one point he sensed that something was moving on his left.
“Oh my God.” It was John, dragging himself to the car. “Oops, little brother got up from the dead.”
Emely could not believe her ears. She lifted her aching body up in the hope that everything he said was true.
Ronald swiftly directed the gun at his brother.
“No!” Emely shouted.
“I’m not gonna kill him, stop shouting, you bitch.”
John could barely walk. He wanted to help Emely, but the pain was too strong.
