I’m jerked back to reality when my captor yanks me by the hair away from the sink. I shake my head at myself, why think about my fast track program, especially now? I may never get out of here. I’m despondent and let my head hang forward, my shoulders slumped. My hand are wet so I rub them on the seat of my pants to dry them off. As we are walking down the hall back to my home on the floor, my captor starts in with talking to himself. I think he’s insane, and I’m terrified of him when he gets like this. He’s slapping himself repeatedly in the face and chanting, “No, no, no.” The trembling in my body increases, I’m so scared and all I want is to go home. Suddenly my captor stops and unhooks my arms turning me to face him as he barks out one word.
“Strip.”
I pull in a harsh breath as I nervously unbutton my shirt and slowly pull it off, my hand are shaking and my legs feel like rubber. I want to delay the inevitable, but he starts punching me on my back to speed things along and I don’t want to anger him any further. All I can hear is the hollow thud, thud as he hits and strikes at my body. I can’t hold in my whimpers or my tears, letting them both free as I hunch over on myself.
Why is he doing this to me? Please please please I just want to go home. My thoughts are racing and the fear is running rampant through my body. I try to cover my naked body the best I can, my legs are crossed tightly and I’m holding my arms over my breasts. I can’t stop trembling, tears running down my face in rivulets. I don’t think I’ll survive this if he rapes me. I feel like my anxiety is amped to the max and I’m already jacked.
It’s at this point I start hyperventilating again. I still can’t get a deep breath in through my busted up and swollen nose. I start pulling in loud, noisy and wheezy breaths, my body shaking in fear. I don’t know what he is going to do to me, I’m a virgin and I’m terrified that he’s going to rape me. My guard grabs my wrists and pulls them away from my body, exposing my full breasts. I try to pull my arms away from him, but this only causes my breasts to sway and now they have captured his attention. He bends his head and bites my right breast. Hard. I cry out in pain and in shame. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but fuck, it hurts
He’s cackling as he pulls my arms up over my head and hangs me on a hook in the ceiling. I’m hanging freely, as I can’t touch the floor, even on my tip toes. I cringe and close my eyes, not wanting to see what is coming. THUD, THUD, THUD, he keeps pummeling my stomach and spine and even the tops of my thighs. Tears are streaming freely down my face but I don’t want him to hear me cry out. The muscles in my arms are screaming at me. All I can hear is the sound of my harsh breathing and the rattling of the chains.
I can’t do this. I can’t take it. Oh please stop. Fuck it Van. You HAVE to do this.
My beating goes on for another fifteen minutes, my guard is visibly getting tired and I hope this means my torture will stop. I know that is wishful thinking, but I’m trying to have hope. He laughs when I flinch as he approaches me, reaching up and unhooking me from the ceiling. As my arms fall down in front of me, I can’t control the loud shout that escapes my mouth as feeling starts rushing back into my arms. My captor chuckles at my expense and drags me down the hall to the washroom. He hooks my hands back into the filthy floor, my body is folded at the waist, my naked bottom stuck up in the air. I’m crying loudly at this point, my body on edge, quivering.
I watch in horror as he fills the filthy, bug infested tub with water. My breath is hitching in my chest as he releases my hands from the floor and grips me by the back of the neck and forcibly bends me over the tub and holds my head under water. I’m so startled, I suck in a huge mouthful of ice water. I can’t catch a breath and the panic is suffocating me. I’m choking, trying to kick out at him as everything starts going dim around the edges and I know that either I die right here, right now or pass out. Even though I’m not big on more torture, I’m hoping for the second option. Just as I think that’s it, he pulls me out of the water.
I’m dripping everywhere, shivering and can barely look at him as I suck in big gusts of air. “How’s that–b-bitch” he bites out crudely, bits of spit flying out of his mouth.
I gasp and try to pull in large breaths, but I can’t stop coughing, and spitting out water. Before I can grab a good lungful of air, he’s shoved me under again. Again, my legs are kicking out, only this time he traps my legs between his and closes them around me, tightly. I’m trapped and the panic hits me like a hammer. I need to get away, but I can’t and the more I struggle the worse it is. Just like before, everything starts to dim around the edges and my movements are slowing down. And just like earlier, he waits till that last possible second before pulling me up out of the water. When he pulls me up, I throw up all over his shoes. He is so pissed that he backhands me. Ooooo, that stings. I don’t react in any way, not even cupping my sore face in my hands.
My guard starts running his hands down my naked body, I try not to, but a whimper escapes me. I don’t want him to see how he affects me, but I’m so disgusted by his touch; that my skin has broken out into goose bumps. I try to get away from him, which only causes me to swing on my hook, back and forth in front of him as my chains rattle. My chin and lower lip tremble in rage, humiliation and fear. I try to kick out at him, and only anger him more.
God, please don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t rape me. Please. I pray silently to myself.
I flinch as he palms my breasts and roughly pinches my nipples, giving them a sharp little twist as I grimace in pain.
My captor cackles and asks, “Well little one n-n-n-nothing to say now? Don’t you w-w-want a piece of my cock?”
I close my eyes as I start gagging again, but this only seems to turn him on more as he roughly rubs himself through his pants.
“Tututomorrow” he stutters. “We c-c-can continue this tomorrow.”
I have never been so grateful in my life and felt such profound relief. Words honestly cannot describe and I’m certainly not going to complain that he’s decided he’s had enough.
I’m exhausted as he drops me onto the floor of the living room. I’m freezing, my naked body shivering in the cold air. My eyes want to close, I’m so tired and I desperately need to sleep. I want to head into dreamland and forget that this is happening to me. I’m terrified that if I let my guard down, my captor will rape me or touch my body. It’s irrational thinking, I know. He can rape me and touch me while I’m wide awake too.
I finally fall into a fitful slumber, my body twitching involuntarily throughout the night. I can only hope that something will change tomorrow.
I have to hope that I’ll be found, and my captor caught, because if not, then what does the future hold for me?
I’m so proud of my girl writing out that symbol like she did. My girl? When did I start thinking that? Seeing it there in her own blood pissed me off. When I get my hands on this fucker he’ll be sorry he even looked at her the wrong way, let alone hurt her like he has. After her parents had left the boys and I went over every word of the background report I did on him. It reports that he is a fraternal twin with a brother who was in a mental facility but had broken out not that long ago. Authorities believe that Andrew knows exactly where his brother David is, but he isn’t talking. I’d sent people to Andrew’s place and he wasn’t there, no surprise and it didn’t look as if he’d been there for a while. The report hadn’t pulled anything up about any other properties he might own or rent. Meaning we have some info, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we know where he’s at.
Several of our staffers had gone door to door, gathering information. Everyone says the same thing. Savannah is a sweet girl, young, naïve and always doing for others, thinking of herself last.
We recently received a phone call from a neighbor asking us to meet him tonight.
We waited until the dark cloak of night¸ the darkness helping us to hide in plain sight. The three of us are large men, so we’re not inconspicuous. We follow an extreme fitness regime to help build our muscle mass, and to maintain
our strength, agility, balance and stamina. Our MMA training helps us to harness discipline and use it to our favor. While we were all quite fit back in college, we were essentially still boys. It was the Special Forces and MMA that forged us into men.
We are all dressed in black from head to toe, right down to the army boots. Our skull caps roll down into a face mask if we need full coverage.
Tonight is purely for gathering information, and observation. You can learn a lot, just by watching and listening. We’re meeting with one of Savannah’s neighbors who had given us some valuable information when we went door to door. Today, he left an intriguing text message saying that he has some information for us, and we’re to come alone. I think it’s a bit odd, as he can come down to King Securities at any time, to discuss. We are curious as to what he has to say, but cautious as well.
We pull up at the mall, and kill the headlights, waiting in the dark. It isn’t long before lights flash twice, and then go out. We climb out of the SUV and walk over to where he is standing.
“Hey, thanks for meeting me out here,” he says looking around nervously. “I know you think I’m paranoid, or crazy but I always trust my gut. I’m one of those people who is just aware of who and what is around me, so I notice more than most people.”
I interrupt him and say, “We appreciate that you called, anything you can tell us can only be helpful. We’re not here to judge you.”
I must have reassured him as he goes on to say, “I keep seeing the same guy around, all the time. He isn’t from the neighborhood, is about six feet tall with brown hair and eyes. He’s thin, maybe topping out at one hundred and forty pounds, and appears at first glance to be fairly average. Except every time I see him, he is flapping his hands and muttering to himself, but I can’t get close enough to hear what he is saying. He noticed me looking once, and the worst feeling came over me when our eyes met. Look, I really hope you find that girl, she’s a sweetheart, always helping me and my wife, doing little things for my kids. It’s just a shame,” he says while shaking his head.
We thank him for his time and part ways.
“What do you make of that, guys,” I ask
“I believe him,” says Deacon, “besides when we ran that background check on him, he came up clean.”
“I agree,” says Carter around a huge yawn, “This guy is a decent all round family man, and not a criminal.”
That all round family man was so observant, that he was able to provide us with a thread to go on.
At least with that thread, we can pull on it and maybe glean more. Things are looking up.
“Well boys. . . . .are we ready for a night out,” I ask, trying to get them pumped. I get a few grumbles, and that’s about it. Not sure what’s up with Deacon and Carter, but more and more they are becoming sullen, and miserable.
We’re setting up surveillance in Savannah’s neighborhood. If we can get a bead on this guy, then maybe we can tail him to where he is holding Savannah. The D.A. and his wife are both emotional wrecks this evening. They had come by earlier to drop off the latest photo from Savannah’s captor. It’s a picture of Savannah, holding today’s newspaper as proof of life. It is sweet relief to know that she’s alive, but devastating to see a very naked, and obviously beaten, woman. It makes me feel helpless. I can only imagine that’s how the Peters’ feel.
I myself, feel sick to my stomach. I can’t stop myself from looking at her photo every day, often several times a day. This new photo however, makes me want to pull her into my body and just hold her tight, take away all her fears and pain. I can only hope and pray that he isn’t sexually abusing her on top of everything else she is experiencing. She’s already going to be dealing with a lot when this is over, but adding a sexual element will only make her healing process that much slower.
I really hope this guy is out and about tonight, I want to fuck him up, and badly. I want to plow my fists into his face until he can’t see anymore. I can picture it, his face beaten to a bloody pulp. I can’t stand men who prey on women. Men who physically, mentally or emotionally abuse women. I want to bring Savannah home, and I’m pissed that we keep coming up with dead ends.
We pile into our van and take off towards Savannah’s neighborhood. The inside of the van holds the smell of a rich, dark brew coffee, each of us carrying a large thermos and a bag of snacks. The van itself is outfitted with the top in tech toys. You name it, and we have it. I drop Deacon and Carter off at opposite corners of the street. They are trained to blend in, and hug the shadows. We let each other know once we’re in position, communicating through our Bluetooth earpieces. Our time in the Special Forces gave us a solid background in Morse code, and when unable to talk, we tap out what we need. That isn’t required tonight as we are able to communicate freely.
I tap my piece, alerting Deacon and Carter that I’m about to speak. “Alright everyone,” I say quietly, “Look sharp, here comes our resident whacko.”
Sure enough, there he is, pacing and flapping his hands, just like Savannah’s neighbor had reported. Every once in a while, I can see that he smacks himself. From where we are, we can clearly see his mouth moving, but aren’t close enough to hear what is being said. I take in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll get lucky and find this girl and bring her home. Out of my peripheral vision, I can see Carter move into position. He’ll walk by our crazy guy and bump him “by accident,” but that accident will allow him to apply several tiny transmitters on his shirt. These will allow us to hear what he is saying, and track his movements. We ensure we apply several in the event any drop off.
I sit in the van, and watch the transfer go off without a hitch. Carter and Deacon hop back into the van, and we turn up the volume to hear what he is saying.
I hush the boys and turn up the volume in time to hear, “I hear you, I know, I know, k-k-kill her. O-o-o-k,” he stutters.
The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end, and apparently I’m not the only one. I glance at Deacon and Carter to catch them shaking their heads. This guy is one sick fuck. And that poor girl has been dealing with this? And has been, for days. We need to spring into action, and catch this fucker.
We watch as he takes off down the street and jumps into a car. It’s too late now, for us to get out there and put a tracker on it. Shit, fuck and damnation, I hope that doesn’t affect our chances in finding her, or I’ll never forgive myself. I know to be prepared for anything. Hopefully, the transfers on his shirt will be enough.
We speed off, keeping back several blocks so we don’t alert him to our presence. He continues his litany and curses the entire time. I hope we can get there on time.
Boy am I wrong.
I jerk awake in the middle of the night, something startling me out of a very fitful slumber. I listen carefully, and that’s when I hear him, my jailor, breathing heavily. I look up to see him standing over me, just staring. I’m shivering in fear and revulsion. I’m so drained and weak, it’s hard for me to stand on my own. Every day bleeds into the next, with each day seemingly the same as the day before yet different and my captor seems to change each day as well. One day, he’s a self-assured prick and the next a stuttering whack job who flaps his hands and talks to himself.
Aside from the odd bites to my breasts, my captor doesn’t abuse me sexually. I’m so thankful. My heart tightens as I think about my experiences over the last few days. Somehow or other, I have found strength within myself. I shudder, thinking about losing my virginity, here, with this man. As If I would have a choice. What he wants, he’ll take. But like any other woman, I’ve always dreamed of the day I would find the man I fall in love with, and trust not only my body to, but my heart and soul as well. I hope I still get the chance to realize that dream.
I’m nervous, my captor seems restless and edgy. Something is going on, as he is just standing there, staring at me. Slowly, he starts rocking his body from side to side when suddenly, he shouts at me.
“GET UP.”
> I whimper and struggle to push myself onto my knees, and then pull myself up. I’m so weak from fatigue and dehydration, and I can’t remember when I last ate something. My captor is pissed at my slow response, so he grabs my upper arm tightly and drags me down the hallway and out into the darkness. As I look around, it appears as if we’re in the middle of nowhere.
Oh shit, this doesn’t bode well for me. We’re in the middle of nowhere, with no one to help me, I think, my lips trembling. I need to stop, I can’t let him see any weakness.
“The v-v-oices s-s-ay I have to k-kill you now,” he says to me. I whimper. This is it. I don’t have a chance to say good-bye to my parents, or hug my mom. I’m going to die a virgin, never having felt the love of a man. Never even having a first kiss. I didn’t even go to my prom, not wanting to be a fifth wheel. I try to think about whether I would do things differently, with what I know now. I suppose that’s the point of life though. We all make choices, and we need to live with them. Sometimes that’s the hardest part to swallow. We’re only given one life, we need to live it to our fullest potential. I don’t have to think about life, or anything else at that point because he starts beating me. His words punctuated by punches.
“What. Do. You. Think. Of. That?”
Huh? Is he saying something to me? My head is fuzzy and my ears are ringing from the repeated blows. My body can’t take much more. I’m being systematically beaten, so badly my own mother likely wouldn’t recognize me. He’s killing me with his powerful fists as they pummel my body. I can feel the bones in my ribcage crunching and every joint in my body is screaming out. I can’t take in a normal breath, and I’ve peed myself. My eyes are so swollen I can barely see. All I can smell is his putrid breath, body odor and my piss. And trust me, I’m shocked I can smell anything through my busted up nose.
Recovered Love Page 8
