Tainted

by Dani Matthews

  * * *

  All too soon, evening arrives.

  Jill has been completely silent and has kept her back to me. When we hear the basement door open and the sound of footsteps descending, her back stiffens.

  I haven’t told her that I’m going to take her punishment. I’d wanted her to worry that I’d repay the favor and let him torture her so that I didn’t have to endure it. I didn’t avoid telling her out of malice. She needs to realize how dire our situation is, and I’m hoping this will open her eyes to the truth when I reveal that she never had a chance in the first place. But for her to be willing to risk her life to help escape, she needs to trust me. This is the only way to show her I’m not trying to play a rivalry game with her. I just want out of here, just as she does.

  “Evening, pets,” my father says as he enters the room. He’s carrying the familiar small, black case. The first night, it had held the sewing needles. Last night, it was the pliers. I’m dreading whatever is inside it tonight.

  When Jill doesn’t respond or even twitch, my father’s expression turns disapproving. “Jilly,” he warns.

  Reluctantly, she rolls onto her side so that she’s facing us, her eyes wide with fear. Tear streaks are noticeable on her cheeks, and her demeanor screams that she thinks she’s going to be the one hurting tonight.

  “That’s better,” he says with a satisfied smile.

  He folds his arms across his chest as he gazes at both of us. “Tonight, is Serenity’s choice,” he announces.

  Jill looks ill.

  He looks at me expectantly. “Will you take the punishment or pass, guaranteeing that Jilly suffers instead?”

  I look at him steadily. “I’ll take it,” I say in a clear, precise tone.

  Jill gasps.

  My father’s eyes narrow, and I can tell how displeased he is as his lips tighten. “Very well.” He doesn’t spare Jill a glance as he turns and walks towards me. He grabs the metal stool and drags it over.

  I study him as he opens the box and pulls out the pliers. The past two nights, he’s looked somewhat pleased to inflict pain upon me, but tonight is different. I think he’d genuinely thought that I’d turn on Jill, but he should have known better. Then again, he probably doesn’t. He only knew the weak ‘Serenity.’ He has no idea the person I’ve become.

  It also looks like he’s going to either break toes or fingers, or he’s going to pull teeth. All the options are awful, but I suppose the teeth would be the worst. I still need to be able to eat, and I’m barely getting enough to survive on as it is. Add pain to the scenario, and things could turn dire.

  He sets the pliers on the table and patiently pulls out the familiar spool of wire, drawing out the torturous moment as he gives me a hard look. “She’s causing you excruciating pain and leaves you minimal food. All she does is take from you, and yet you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for her? When will you learn that people are selfish and only put themselves first. She doesn’t deserve your empathy. I’m disappointed, Serenity.”

  Okay, no teeth. Thank God. “You should be used to it by now,” I say derisively.

  His eyes turn chilly, and he leans down and grabs my left ankle. Instinctively, I struggle, but he’s stronger. After he secures my ankle to the chair’s leg, he grabs the edge of the duct tape around my toes and yanks hard, causing me to shriek as my big toe breaks again. Sobs escape me as I struggle to breathe.

  My toe is on fire.

  He doesn’t give me a chance to catch my breath as he grabs the pliers and bends down again, snapping my middle toe. I’m howling now as he methodically breaks every toe on my left foot. My body is fighting the restraints, and I can feel the wires cutting into my skin as I scream until my throat is hoarse. I can’t take it anymore, and once he begins to set the bones, everything fades away.

  * * *

  I hate him.

  That’s my first thought when I regain consciousness and have no choice but to deal with the agonizing pain. My breath hisses as my eyes roam the darkness. It’s late, probably two or three in the morning. There’s a hint of moonlight shining in through the small windows, but it barely penetrates the basement’s darkness.

  “Serenity?” Jill asks in a small, uncertain voice.

  My head whips around in the direction of the bed. “Yes, I’m conscious,” I manage to grit out.

  There’s a long, drawn-out silence, and I wait, curious to hear what she has to say.

  It takes a few minutes for her to break the silence again. “Why did you do it?” she asks quietly.

  “I won’t be responsible for anyone’s pain—not anymore,” I say, knowing it’s time to reveal the bleakness of our situation—especially hers.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jill, have you wondered why I’m here with you?”

  “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I close my eyes as I try to focus on our conversation and not my broken toes and ruined fingernails. “He’s my father,” I say softly.

  There’s a long, thunderous silence.

  “What?” she squeaks.

  With great patience, I tell her about my childhood, and then my ordeal at the cabin five years ago. While I speak, she’s completely silent, and I know she’s beginning to worry about her own fate now that she knows what my father has done to his past victims.

  It’s ironic, I’ve avoided speaking of the horror I’d witnessed, but now it flows easily from me. I don’t know if it’s the situation that makes it easier or if I’m just tired of fighting the memories. Either way, I reveal everything.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Jill asks in a trembling voice.

  “You already know,” I say gently.

  “No…”

  “This is all for my benefit, Jill. He wants to turn me into him, and the only way to do that is to brainwash me into not caring about his victims. That’s why he’s leaving you alone and allowing you to pass on the punishments. He wants me to hate and resent you so that eventually, when it’s my choice, I’ll let him hurt you.”

  “Why didn’t you last night?” she asks quietly.

  “That’s not who I am. If I make it out of this, I want to be able to live with myself.”

  “So what you’re saying is I’m a terrible person,” she says bitterly.

  Shit. “That is not what I said,” I say emphatically. “I’m just telling you my reasons because you asked. Had I not witnessed what I had when I was younger, would things be different? I don’t know. All I know is he nearly broke me once, and I can’t allow him to turn me into a monster. You realize that’s what he wants, right? He wants an accomplice. He wants me to help him with the abductions and probably the torture. I won’t let him turn me into that,” I say fiercely.

  Jill’s quiet now, and I can tell she’s really beginning to think over our situation. I should let her come to the obvious conclusion on her own, but we don’t have that kind of time.

  “What do you think is going to happen if he continues torturing me? Sooner or later, he’s going to have to stop, because the point isn’t to kill me. When he has no choice but to let me heal, he will turn his attention on you. He’s a sociopath, Jill. You will die, and once I heal, he’ll choose a new victim so that the cycle will start all over,” I say steadily.

  “Just stop!” she says harshly, her voice echoing around the stillness of the basement.

  I fall silent, knowing I’ve completely and irrevocably ripped off the metaphorical rose-colored glasses she’d been wearing. She now has all the information she needs to conclude that we have to work together to get out of this.

  Unfortunately, she needs to be willing, and I’m going to have to wait until she’s ready to take that chance. Because that’s what it is, a chance. A chance that we could escape. A chance that she might survive. But the possibility works both ways. She’s disposable, so she could lose her life in the process of trying to save it. It’s a horrible decision for anyone to make, and I can’t make it for her. All I ca
n do is wait and hope that she comes to her senses and realizes that a ‘chance’ is better than not having one at all.

  While the silence stretches, I close my eyes and try to ignore the pain of my injuries. Instead, I think of Holden. I try not to think of him too much, because the idea of never seeing him again is unbearable. But occasionally, I let him into my thoughts so that he can ground me and help me sort out what I need to do to escape this nightmare. I have him to fight for. We could have a future, and I’d had no idea how badly I wanted it until I was snatched from Bull’s.

  Knowing Holden will be there when this is all over helps make the pain and suffering bearable. I know that there’s going to be a lot of bumps in the road, because there’s no way I’m coming out of this emotionally unscathed. I was a mess after the first time this happened, and I’m certain this will change me as well. But this time is different. I won’t be alone afterwards, and I won’t be on the run. I’ll have Holden to lean on.

  I draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale. I’m going to come out of this alive, and hopefully, I’ll be bringing Jill with me. I can’t stand the thought of another woman dying while I watch.

  Not this time, I think fiercely. We will find a way.

  The minutes stretch into hours, and the faint hint of dawn begins to lighten the basement’s darkness. My stomach growls loudly, and I ignore it. I am so hungry, and my dry mouth isn’t helping.

  “Ren?” Jill asks in a hollow voice.

  Relief courses through my veins. “Yes?”

  There’s a long pause. “What do we do?”

  Good question. I’ve been thinking over how to turn the tables on my father, and we’ve got one problem. I don’t think Jill is going to be strong enough—mentally and physically—to wrestle the knife from him and kill him.

  Am I even capable of it? I think so. It’s horrible to think about murdering someone, but I know it’s the only way we’ll escape. He needs to die, and with his death, this nightmare will finally be over and there will be no more victims.

  “I could try to get the knife…” she tentatively offers.

  “It would be a good move and completely unexpected, but do you really think you could do it?” I ask bluntly. “We’re only going to get once chance at this, Jill.”

  Her disappointed sigh reaches my ears. “I don’t think so, Ren. I’m so sorry,” she says remorsefully.

  “It’s okay,” I reassure. “My boyfriend, the cop that was watching over me, he taught me how to defend myself. I think I can do it, but I need an opening to get that knife from him.”

  “You need something to distract him,” Jill realizes.

  “Exactly.”

  I hear her shift on the bed. “What can I do?”

  “Our only chance is going to be when my hands are unbound, and he’s letting me use the bathroom.”

  “Will you be able to…? Your fingers and toes…” her voice trails off.

  “I’m going to have to.”

  Jill’s silent for a moment. “The only way I could distract him is to scream.”

  “Really loud and really shrill,” I encourage. “He needs to look your way.”

  “He won’t be expecting it since I’ve been careful not to draw attention to myself,” she says quietly.

  “We can do this, Jill. We’re going to be leaving this basement today,” I vow.

  “I really hope so,” she says with heartfelt longing.

  The sun is rising, and I can see the faint outline of her lying on the bed. “When he comes with breakfast, take the meal and leave the other option for me,” I warn. I have a feeling she would have given me the meal now that we’re working together, but that might clue my father in that we’re up to something.

  “But you need it more than I do,” Jill protests.

  “If you suddenly change the way you’ve been acting, he’ll suspect we’re up to something,” I point out.

  “Oh.”

  “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing, and after we eat, he’ll let us use the bathroom. That’s when we’ll make our move.”

  “I’m scared,” she confesses in a shaky voice.

  “Me too,” I admit. “But we can’t let it hold us back. We’re going to do this, Jill.”

  Thirty-three

  Ren

  The wait is the worst.

  There’s anticipation, because I am desperate to be free, but there’s also dread. Our plan could backfire, and she could lose her life, and I could end up severely injured. If this doesn’t work, there’ll be no way to try it again because he’ll be prepared.

  When the basement door eventually opens, and we hear his footsteps on the stairs, I tense and look at Jill. Her eyes are wide with fear, and her body is stiff.

  “Relax,” I mouth to her. If she’s bracing for something, it’ll give away that something has changed.

  She mutely nods and allows her body to go limp.

  While my father offers Jill her options for breakfast, I prepare myself for what will be happening shortly. I’d originally planned to knock the knife out of his hand, but there’s a good chance he might not release it out of surprise. If I fail to get the knife, I’ve lost precious seconds to injure him. My best bet is to go for the knife while hurting him at the same time. That’ll give me the best advantage.

  While Jill silently eats a delicious smelling omelet, I’m fed a can of cold peas. They’re disgusting, but at this point, I’ll eat anything to ease the ache in my stomach.

  Breakfast is a silent affair, and when I’m finished, my father sets the empty can on the table. His eyes drop to my left foot where he’d duct-taped my toes to help them heal. A frown mars his face, and I know he’s probably thinking the same thing I’d thought earlier. There’s a good possibility my toes won’t heal properly.

  “Do you need to relieve yourself?” he asks, his tone neutral as he studies my face.

  I nod as my heartrate kicks up a notch. We’d expected him to follow his usual routine—Jill first. Our plan is going to unfold sooner than we’d anticipated.

  While he carefully begins to unwind the wires from around my wrists, I inspect the areas where the wire had sliced into my skin. I’m certain they’ll leave scars. When the wire has been completely removed, I can feel Jill’s eyes anxiously locked on us as my father helps me rise to my feet.

  My back and legs crack as pain splinters throughout my body. Sitting upright in the chair for so long is taking its toll on my body, but I try not to let that worry me.

  When I take my first hobbling step, I can’t hold back the whimper as I try not to move my injured toes or allow them to touch the floor.

  The large bucket is three feet away, and I painstakingly move one foot at a time as I’m led to it. I draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale, praying that Jill will play her part.

  We’ve stopped by the bucket, and this is when I’m supposed to pull my pants down. Damn. My heart thunders in my ears, and then I hear her release the shrillest scream that has even me cringing. My father’s head whips around, and I ignore all the pain as I slam my right hand into his wrist while the other prepares to gouge his eye.

  The knife is almost knocked out of his grip, but then he quickly recovers—as expected. But as his head turns towards me, I use my left thumb and aim for his eye. Before he can dodge, I slam it into his eye socket with force and feel his eyeball burst as he roars with pain. Bile rises into my throat as blood and other matter soaks my thumb and the outer area of his socket. I quickly yank my thumb out as blood splatters.

  The knife is now swinging blindingly towards me, and it slashes into my shoulder. The second I feel the burn, I know I need to keep fighting because the second I pause, he’ll gain the upper hand. Instead of pulling away as the knife is buried into my shoulder, I duck my head and hurl myself into his chest, tackling him.

  He releases an ‘oomph’ as we fall backwards, the knife clattering to the floor a few feet away from us. I’ve fallen on top of him, and I aim to take out his other eye. He curse
s, blocking my hand before roughly using his body to buck me to the side. I fall to the floor, and he has me on my back in seconds, his hands wrapped around my throat.

  No, no, no! I stare up at him, taking in the sight of his ruined eye socket as it drips blood across my chest. My stomach heaves, and I see pure fury in his good eye. That’s not all I see though; I see his intentions, and I see death.

  He’s going to kill me.

  As his hands squeeze my throat, I blindingly reach my arms out, my fingers scrambling for the knife that must be nearby. My hands encounter nothing, and I try to turn my head so that I can find the knife. Black dots dance around my vision as my fingertip brushes against the handle. Yes! Just a little more! I stretch my arm and fingers as far as I can and manage to get a grip on it. The second my fingers close around the handle, I tighten my grip and arc it upwards, slamming it into my father’s good eye with a scream of desperation. It sinks in much easier than I’d expected, and it buries itself into his eye socket until just the handle of the knife is visible.

  The hands around my throat loosen, and my father’s lips part before he slowly goes still—his limp body beginning to crush me. I struggle against his heavy weight and shove him to the side as I scramble out from beneath him.

  Is that me still screaming?

  No, it’s Jill.

  Tears streak my face as I haul myself into a sitting position and stare at my father. He’s lying on his side, and the sight of him is like a scene out of a horror movie. I’m appalled that I’m the one that had done that kind of revolting damage, but I also know that it’d been my only choice. It’s a struggle to look away so I can focus on his chest. It’s not moving. I need to be certain, so I reluctantly move closer and press my shaking fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  He’s dead.

  I’m relieved but sickened, and I turn away and vomit the peas I’d just eaten minutes before. I retch and dry heave as tears continue to fall down my cheeks. When I’m finished, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look at Jill.