Killing Room

by Shawn Raiford

  What?

  Edward grabbed Kathleen by the crook of her arm and hauled her up to her feet. Dwarfed by the man, Kathleen tried to break his grip but it was futile.

  "Please let us go! I promise we won't say anything to anyone! Please, I don't want to die!" Kathleen yelled, her voice cracking.

  Edward forced Kathleen's head down onto the table, her face a few inches from mine. Our eyes met. For a second or two, I saw something.

  I told her, "Fight!"

  Behind her eyes, something flickered. Reacting like she had been injected with adrenaline, she squirmed ferociously. "No! Leave me alone!" she screamed, fear melting away from her face.

  He held her down with a tree trunk of an arm. Kathleen screamed and clawed at his wrist. But it was useless. Edward was strong enough to hold down most men with that arm.

  "Oh, my neighbor is so feisty!" he said, easing his grip.

  She got free, but she didn't run and hide. With her back to me, Kathleen stood upright and faced him. As he stood there laughing at her, she kicked him in the balls.

  "Yes, Kathleen!" I yelled.

  Edward stopped laughing, dropping the knife. Grabbing his crown jewels, he stepped back a couple of steps. He finally took a knee and laid down on the floor. "Bitch!" he grunted from the floor.

  "Run, Kathleen! Run! Get out of here! Find help!" If she got away, Edward wouldn't wait around for the cops, he would run.

  But Kathleen didn't listen to me; she climbed up onto the table, working on unstrapping my right arm. I did nothing to dissuade her, couldn't help myself. My reptilian brain, or R-complex, also known as the basal ganglia, deep within my brain, where my survival instinct existed, took over and repressed any statement that might make her think twice about what she was doing. Looking at being tortured then murdered, I did not want her to stop. She should already be out the door halfway down those stair, running towards freedom. It was not my fault Kathleen chose not to listen to me, for the second time.

  Her face hovered above my left boob, her hot breath caused my nipple to swell and become hard. It would have been sexy if we were in a sleazy hotel, and her husband was watching. But not so much in our current situation.

  The strap loosened just a tad, my arm wiggled. My wrist almost free. Just after she kicked him, I remember hearing his knife fall to the floor. When I got free, looking for it would be my first priority.

  Then Edward stood up. He came up from behind Kathleen and brought down a fist to the back of her head; her body deflated and slid down to the floor, landing with a loud thud.

  "I'm going to make you pay for that one, Kathleen!" he said, his voice deep and dense. He reached down and pulled her up to wobbly knees. He grabbed at her blouse like a horny teenager, pulling it up over her head, taking it off, throwing it to the side. Handling her like a rag doll, Edward grabbed her and slammed Kathleen onto the table, partially on top of me. Her long hair was in my face; the odor of her shampoo was quite aromatic. Strawberry.

  "No!" Kathleen tried kicking him again, but she missed. Edward grabbed one of her knees and squeezed—her entire body bowed.

  "You're going to beg me to stop peeling your skin from your body!" he said, slapping her. "You're going to scream so much!"

  Kathleen twisted around, lying out across my body. I almost had my wrist free from the strap. Edward took off her shoes and pants, tossing them to the same direction as the blouse. Only in bra and panties, she punched Edward in the chest.

  He punched her again, and she dropped.

  Resurgent fear flooded my brain as Edward loomed over me, and said, “It’s time!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Naked but free

  EDWARD WAS FUMING.

  THIS was it, I knew it. Everything was set up, years ago. When I died, everything would go to Henry. He and Julie would be able to retire with the amount of money I leave them.

  No god waited to welcome me into his (or her) heavenly kingdom or give me seventy-two virgins. I believed once we died, that's it. Eternal darkness. I didn't believe in any philosophy that ancient man created at the dawn of human civilization. Gods and government were the opiates of the masses; I had no need for them.

  Although I hadn’t done half the things I wanted in this life yet, like kill a shitload more pedophiles or make a baby with Tom Brady; I could not go into that eternal darkness being sad. Not that it was my intention, but I did make this Earth, at least Houston, a better place, however miniscule. It made me feel good to put those monsters down.

  Edward reached over me and I thought he was going to grab one of the hanging power tools and start cutting me up into hamburger meat, but he did no such thing. He unstrapped me.

  "Stand up!" he said.

  Not wasting any time, I got up on an elbow and brought my legs around and sat up. Fear quickly dissipating, I leaped off the table and before I took a step, Edward pushed me hard.

  Landing on the floor on top of Kathleen's discarded clothing, scraping my knees, and my face hit the edge of the bookcase hard, and it hurt. Dazed me a little, but I was as happy as teenage boy in a girl's locker room during shower time.

  Naked but free, I knew with every fiber of my being, I would live to see tomorrow. As I sat up quickly, a couple of the severed heads, from the bookshelves fell. One grazed my head and skidded off towards the right, and the other landed directly in my lap. I knocked the head away, spotting Kathleen's pants.

  "Hey!" he barked, his voice deep.

  Turning, I met his eyes.

  He pointed at me. "Don't think about leaving. You're next!"

  Yes, I am but you won't like it.

  He turned back to her with a grin. "Kathleen, you're going to scream for me." He reached up and turned on the video camera on the wall.

  No way would he ever put me back onto that table alive. He fucked up by letting me off that table. I was a dangerous female. But I couldn't focus on only hurting him; I had to get myself and Kathleen out of here. That’s all I was focussed on now.

  Kathleen tried fighting back. "Stop it, Edward! Let us go! We won't say anything!"

  He held her legs, strapping them down. She continued to punch and claw at his arms. He did not give any sign that her attack was working.

  Ripping off her bra, he said, “Damn, Kathleen, I thought your tits were bigger!” He grabbed them, pinching her nipples.

  “Ouch, stop that!” Determined to survive, Kathleen continued wriggling. Even though she couldn't free herself, she was keeping his attention away from me.

  "Be still!" Edward punched her again.

  She stopped flailing her arms, appearing to be dazed. Edward then grabbed a strap.

  "No, stop..." she muttered.

  He pointed. ”Smile for the camera, Kathleen!"

  Next he grabbed a small, circulating-saw with a round, mini blade from a hook on the wall. Plugging it into an electrical outlet near Kathleen's head, Edward pressed a button, and the machine whined alive.

  Ah shit!

  Jumping into her pants, a little loose but they fit. I scanned the floor for Kathleen's blouse, spotting it.

  Edward, not paying attention to me, laughed while the rotary blade cut Kathleen; her body bowed under the straps. Her screams cut through me.

  Kathleen, I'm coming!

  "NO! PLEASE STOP!" Kathleen pleaded.

  After grabbing her blouse, I put it on; I did not bother with the bra. It was a little snug, but helped hold down my tits. When kicking ass, girls had to make sure that tits weren't flopping around all over the place.

  Now, properly clothed, I found something in the pants pocket: my knife! The one I lent her to feel more confident back in the car. I checked the other pockets, but there was no phone. She must've left it in the car or Edward found it. Under the spare tire, in the trunk of my car, I had a spare burner.

  My boots were under the table—under Kathleen—with the rest of my clothes. It was not necessary to wear my own clothes, but wearing those boots would drastically help our odds. Pul
ling the knife from my pocket, I flipped it open.

  "PLEASE STOP!" Kathleen screamed.

  Edward tossed something over his shoulder.

  I ducked.

  The projectile landed on the floor, not far from one of the fallen heads. Glancing at what he tossed, I realized it was Kathleen's foot. Son of a bitch!

  Setting down the power tool on the table, he tilted his head back; Edward stepped away from the table. At his sides—as if holding invisible dumbbells—his hands became fists. "Keep screaming, Kathleen! I’m loving it!"

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Extreme violence

  JUST BECAUSE I HAD a knife, I still had to be careful how I approached this beast of a man.

  Well over three hundred pounds of muscle and meanness, Edward presented a unique problem; his thick hide protected him. Beyond strong, if I didn't strike him a death blow quickly, he'd kill me and Kathleen.

  I exhaled, thinking about how to make it to the door. Once there, his attention would be diverted to me and off of Kathleen. Gripping the knife in my right hand, I stared at the scene in front of me. Leaving this room might entice him to go after me. But I can't assume anything; which meant he could simply kill her first then chase me—I needed to kill him.

  To do that, my boots would help. I estimated four-to-five-seconds to lace up one boot once my foot was fully inserted. Feasible, but they were under the table. Definitely a serious problem, however not an insurmountable one.

  My attention turned to the pot; it'd make a good weapon. It was on the floor now, but it looked too bulky and heavy. Not to mention I would have to lay down my knife to pick it up, and that would not happen.

  Edward was not paying attention to me. As Kathleen released a blood-curdling scream, he released a deep belly laugh.

  That's when I decided to do something. I managed to move in behind him, raising my knife. I stabbed him, aiming for his spine—but I missed. At the last second, Edward shifted his weight. Not sure if he was lucky or he saw me and moved. Quickly, he turned away, yelling out in pain, reaching back—the knife still stuck in his back.

  "You little bitch! You stabbed me?" Edward pushed me down, and took a few steps back, attempting to grab the knife from his back. Big guys, like Edward, were not limber. Hard to reach that knife.

  "Help me, Rose, please!" Kathleen begged.

  "I am," I replied, reaching under the table for my boots, grabbing both of them. I moved for the exit.

  "Where are you going? Please don't leave me!" Kathleen yelled.

  Not wanting to waste precious seconds, I didn't bother explaining. I stopped on the landing, just outside the door, and placed a boot down. I shoved my right foot into it, but was the left boot. Removing it and putting on the other boot would wast time, so I didn't. A boot was on my foot, good enough. My fingers fumbled with the laces.

  Kathleen yelled, "Rose! PLEASE DON"T LEAVE ME!"

  "You fucking bitch!" Edward said.

  I glimpsed the psychopath; he was fast approaching.

  "I'm going to make it hurt real bad!" he said.

  He must've taken the knife out of his back or he was just ignoring it. My instincts told me—more like screamed at me—just run for it, but I figured I could make it outside at any time now, so I did not run. Finishing up, I tied the boot, tight.

  Edward came to a halt when he reached my position on the landing, grabbing me by the scruff. After Edward kicked it, my other boot descended down the stairs into the darkness below. One boot on the wrong foot was better than having zero boots.

  "I could just squeeze the life out of you right now, but I want to hear you scream. You are tough. You will scream loud for me. How long can you last while I am peeling the skin off your tits!"

  Ouch! What kind of mind even thinks of shit like that?

  Fear had completely dissipated from of my body. My right hand came up hard and fast; my palm connected with his nose violently. Blood spurted onto his face

  “Fuck!” he yelled. No matter how big and bad you were, a hard blow to the nose will make you cry out for your mommy. His grip loosened a little, and his knees wobbled like columns of a building in an earthquake. Gravity took over when he slipped—he took me with him. We went down the stairs to the warehouse floor.

  We rolled into the first three-sixty turn, his mass on top of me was dense and heavy. Luckily my knees were positioned between his body and mine. We turned end over end. At the bottom, I landed hard on my right shoulder and hip. I smacked the side of my head.

  Edward landed on me once, maybe twice, during our trip down the stairs. When we finally stopped, I laid there dazed, curious to how I was still breathing. It wasn't everyday someone took a tumble down some stairs with a man the size of a juvenile rhinoceros and survive, much less not break something. Although the right side of my body lit up in pain, I didn't think anything was broken. Various body parts hurt, but I was alive and that's what mattered.

  "Ah, fuck! That hurt!" he mumbled.

  Keeping quiet, I didn't move.

  He stood up slowly, stretching his back.

  My eyes narrowed. I did not want him to know I was awake. If he did, he might hit me. And if tried to get up he might hit me. I wanted him to think I had been knocked out.

  With a foot, he nudged my legs. "You dead?"

  My hip hurt bad, not to mention: an ankle, left knee, and my right shoulder were all spots of blossoming pain. I needed a few moments of rest to catch my breath. I still planned on killing him. At minimum, kicking his ass.

  The office light did little for visibility. But I was able to see him. Then I remembered something. The other boot! I wanted to find it, but I could not move my head. If I did, he's see me. Maybe I would find it later.

  He looked upstairs. "Damn, that was quiet a fall."

  Time to check all systems. I wiggled my toes, and they moved. Which meant the wiring from my brain to my feet were in working order. My right shoulder hurt. Flexing my fingers, I extended them a few times. Everything seemed to be in working order; I was ready to fight.

  He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, and multiple spots on my body rang out in agony. Dangling like an old dish rag off the edge of a countertop, I didn't see the knife anywhere in his back. He must have taken it out.

  Quickly, I inspected the floor area at the stairs. I did not see the other boot—too dark to see anything. I needed another minute for my vision to adjust. Every step he took upstairs, pain shot through my hip and down my leg.

  Finally we reached the top, and entered the room.

  "We're back!" Edward said, chuckling. "Did you miss us?"

  "No!" Kathleen screamed. "Please ..."

  Edward shrugged me off, and I dropped, landing hard on the floor where my body lay just a few moments ago. I made sure to land facing them and the door, laying on my left side. On my way down to the floor I saw that Edward had wrapped a cloth around Kathleen's stub. He did not want her bleeding out before he had a chance to torture her more. Also, I spotted my knife on the table next to her.

  Edward said, "Hello, neighbor! Did you miss me?"

  "What did you do to Rose? Is she dead?"

  "Not yet." He paused, turning my way.

  I shut my eyes.

  "Or I don't think she's dead,” he commented.

  Under me, the floor vibrated as he approached. His sausage fingers gripped my wrist, feeling for a pulse. "No, she's just knocked out. We both fell down the stairs!" He chuckled. “She hit me, but she'll pay for it when it's her turn on the table.”

  "Let us go, please, Edward!” Kathleen said.

  The floor vibrated again as he walked away from me.

  "Now, where was I before I was interrupted?” Edward asked.

  I opened my eye into slits.

  He stood at the side of the table.

  "Please let me go. I promise you'll never see me again!"

  "No, you are here already. Why leave when I'm having so much fun?"

  Kathleen must have noticed what she w
as doing wasn't working because she changed tactics. “Edward, I'll suck your dick. I'll make you real happy, just unstrap me."

  Being on that table made everyone willing to do anything to get off of it.

  My head throbbed fuzzily.

  He paused for a couple seconds before answering. "You know, I might fuck you while you're screaming. And I keep fucking you until after you're dead."

  If hell ever turned out to be a real place, there had to be a secret basement level there, housing the truly fucked-up and evil of humanity. Like Stalin, Pol Pot, and whoever invented skinny jeans. When Edward Rawlings died, the devil would fast track his ass to that basement.

  "No, please Edward, it'll be fun. I will do anything you ask. Nothing is off the table. I will make you a very happy man," she said.

  He mumbled something, but I could not hear what he said. It was probably something dark and twisted that would even make Jeffery Dalmer blush. To get a better look, I turned my head ever so slightly, and opened my eye about a sixteenth of an inch wider. He he turned on the power tool, and ran his hand down her leg. Kathleen made a god-awful sound as he continued cutting her.

  A wave of pain passed throughout me. My entire body throbbed in pain. It took everything I had to suppress a scream.

  "Yes! Kathleen, like that! Keep it up, you're doing great!" He worked on her some more then stopped. She must've passed out as she wasn't screaming anymore. Next, he unstrapped her, flipped her over, and strapped her back down.

  Sooner or later, he wanted to do the same to me. But, it would not happen. Even if I had cut my own throat, I'd die before he got me back on that fucking table.

  My eye caught a blinking LED against the far wall. The camera was recording this horror show. To the left a small CCTV monitor poked out from the wall. It showed a four-split view. Front view, two-sides, and one back-view of the warehouse. My vision was a bit hazy but I saw nobody loitering. Our cars were visible in the front-of-the-warehouse view. My car wasn't far; it would be difficult to reach. I'd need my keys if I wanted to use to escape. Definitely a possibility.