by Debra Webb
Her breath stalled in her chest. Was he coming back? Yes! Oh, God, he was coming back. A scream rushed to the back of her throat. The tape on her mouth imprisoned the sound.
She struggled to loosen her bindings. The ropes or bands cut into her skin. Her wrists burned. She couldn’t get loose! Couldn’t reach up to tear away the blindfold.
The devil was here …
Oh, God!
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Be still. Her body trembled. Be still! If she didn’t move maybe he would think she was already dead.
Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.
A sob ripped at her chest. Please, please don’t hurt me.
She could hear him coming closer.
Closer.
She’d gone to church every Sunday of her life. Why hadn’t she listened better? Maybe then she would know what to do … how to save herself.
A kick to her side made her gag. She tried to cough. The restraining tape stung her lips. Instinct curled her forward into a protective ball, her face pressed against her knees.
Don’t move. God, don’t move. Don’t breathe.
Be still. Be still. Be still. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.
The rasp of fabric grated her eardrums as it crouched next to her.
Her heart thumped harder … harder.
His repugnant lips rested against her hair. “I told you I’d come back.” The harsh whisper exploded in her brain.
He’s going to kill me.
She whimpered.
Shhh. Be quiet. Stay still.
“Don’t worry.” That exotic, lusty voice resonated thick and rough and sickening. “You won’t die today. Maybe tomorrow.”
Her body seized, and the trembling started no matter that she tried so hard to stop it. Don’t move. Don’t move! Her muscles refused to listen. They convulsed and quaked with a will of their own.
His fingers twisted in her hair. Snapped her head back. Those mocking lips grazed her cheek. She cried out, the desperate squeak muffled by the chafing tape.
Rich laughter echoed around her. “Don’t cry. It won’t be long now.”
A sob surged up her throat, died in her mouth. Then another erupted. She tried to choke back the sounds. Couldn’t. Oh, God, she couldn’t keep quiet.
What did it matter? She was going to die. No one was coming to save her. Just like they hadn’t saved Valerie. What had she done wrong? She’d walked home alone after cheerleading practice dozens of times. She should have listened to her mother … never walk home alone after dark. Tears streamed down her cheeks … dampened the place where those full, disgusting lips touched her skin.
“You’ll hardly feel a thing,” he promised softly, sweetly. “When it comes to pain, there’s a certain point where your mind begins to block just how excruciating it really is.”
The hiccupping of her sobs made the repulsive mouth still pressed against her cheek curve with triumph.
“First, I’ll sew your eyes shut.” Taunting fingers dragged across her blindfold. She shuddered. “It’ll be so much better that way. You can’t covet what you can’t see.”
Somebody please help me! The silent plea resonated through her soul … but no one would hear.
“The end result makes perfect sense.”
What made perfect sense? She didn’t understand. Why was this happening to her? Why couldn’t she remember how she got here? One minute she was walking … the next she woke up here. Cold, damp … and the smell. She shuddered. Like stagnant water.
The devil pressed closer, the heat from his vile body drawing hers even as she wanted to scramble away. To run. She was so cold. So very cold.
“Everyone will be so much happier,” the seemingly disembodied voice promised, its texture becoming velvety … soothing, almost. “You’ve been such a selfish girl … such a rotten snob. The Devil knows everything you do … and you’ve been so, so bad. Now it’s time to pay.”
Terror relit in her veins, igniting her need to escape. She shook with the force of it, jerked at her bindings. Let me go! God, please, please help me! Her screams rammed against her throat … the sound silenced by the tape over her mouth.
“I’ll do things to you …” his disgusting tongue flicked in her ear and she tried to draw away, “ … that will make you understand just how toxic you’ve been.”
Warmth spread around her bottom as urine gushed free. The final humiliation. She had no control … she was completely helpless.
Defeat drained the last of her fight and the fear let go of her heart. The certainty that no one was coming … that she was going to die won the battle. One by one her muscles went lax. Her mind drifted from this awful place.
“Lastly,” he said gently, dragging her fleeing attention back to this dark, damp, evil place, “I’ll mark you as a sign to ensure that no one ever forgets how beauty can conceal such poison.” He hummed a satisfied sound. “Then, I’ll leave and you’ll die, cold and alone.”
The ruthless grip released her hair. Her head fell forward. The scrape of steps on the cold stones faded as the devil walked away.
Her body twitched and she collapsed onto her side against the cold, hard rocks. Vomit surged into her mouth and nose, strangling her with its bitter burn.
No one was coming to save her.
Not even God.
She was going to die.
Tremors quaked her powerless body.
She didn’t want to die.
No. No. She didn’t want to die.
Find me. Please, God, just let them … find me.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
FACELESS
Copyright © 2008 by Debra Webb.
Excerpt from Find Me copyright © 2008 by Debra Webb.
Cover photo of landscape © John Halpern.
Cover photo of woman © Digital Vision Ltd./SuperStock.
All rights reserved.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781429931755
First eBook Edition : May 2011
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / August 2008
