Last Call (37 page)

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, but it was necessary since you wouldn't stay put," he spoke again politely. Too politely. His calm demeanor and seemingly normal voice sparked a true terror in me. He wasn't crazed or worried about what was happening. He seemed confident and all too aware of his surroundings.

I mumbled curse words at him but it was like a gnat trying to hurl itself onto a Mac truck. No real damage was going to be done with my silent pleas and grunts.

He kneeled down before me in the corner. I pulled my knees up to my chest and contemplated kicking out, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get anywhere with my hands tied behind me. At this close range, I saw that his eyes were a steely grey color; the pupils so large they almost overtook the grey. His eyes fastened on me as his hand came up to smooth the hair out of my face. I winced at his action and the vileness of his touch before pulling my legs closer to my body.

"You are so beautiful," he spoke in a hushed tone. His fingers trailed across my cheek to a piece of hair that was stuck to the tape over my mouth. Grasping the stands, he tugged them free of the tape and gently brushed them back behind my ear.

I shook my head furiously, knocking it painfully against the wall in the process. I blanched at the hit, which brought a smug upturn to his lips. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and his hand shot forward, grabbing my upper arm. "Up and at ‘em, now," he sang; standing and pulling me up with him. "Let’s go."

He pulled me around the corner and into the living room and I tasted sour bile on its way up my throat. The room had been completely transformed. All of the pictures of my family, Sara, Candace and all of our other friends were missing, and the walls were now covered with my own drawings and art work. Some of the items had been stored in my room, and some of them were ones I hadn't seen in years. Jerking back abruptly, I shook my head. My eyes were wide with fear as I glared at him. I longed to scream at him
"What the hell are you doing? What is this?"
but all I could do was silently pray.

"Yes Savannah, I stayed home and made the place look better while you went off on your little weekend trip."

Sara!
my head screamed. Candace was at her family reunion this weekend, but Sara should have been home. Oh God, please let her be alright.

He'd brought two chairs into the room, along with a small table that was set up with fine dishes and candles. It looked like a romantic date for two. My stomach rolled and my legs turned to jelly as I took in the sight in silent terror.

"Oh no you don't," he snapped, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my body into close contact with his.

Immediately feeling his manhood pressing into my hip I jerked back, but the pressure of his arms on my back was too strong. His hands began to caress my back and move languorously over my body. One moved up between my shoulders and over to my neck, while the other one traveled down until he cupped my rear and pulled me tighter against him. Pinching my neck, he forced my head down on his shoulder and began to sway with me.

I heard him humming under his breath and he began to dance with me. With my face pressed to his shirt I could smell the sour scent of his sweat mixed with a heavy cologne. His lower hand traveled along my bottom and across to my hip, then along the waistband of my shorts. When his sticky fingers crept under the hem of my shirt and the damp touch of his fingers connected with my skin, I went mad.

Instinctively I knew I couldn’t let him touch me. I would
not
let him molest me or worse, rape me. I decided to act. Bracing myself, I lifted my knee quickly; hitting Ryan square in the inner thigh and barely missing my target. Luckily the hit was still hard enough to cause him to release me for a moment, and I kicked furiously at his shin.

“Hmph,” he groaned, and I kicked at him again. "Damn it," he swore, letting me go as he grabbed his leg.

Taking advantage of his preoccupation, I turned towards the front door to escape. Ryan's angry howls filled the room and he reached out and grasped the hands still secured behind my back. He dove for my body and I slammed forcefully onto the ground, my right shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.

For a moment my vision was rimmed in black clouds and stars flashed behind my lids. Shaking them away, I kicked my legs out randomly, aiming for anything in sight. My shoe hit the leg of the table that had been set up for our macabre date, and the sound of glasses and dishes rattling and falling over filled my ears.

"Stop it! You're ruining our date." Ryan's voice was now high pitched and whiny, and he reminded me of an impetuous eight year old throwing a temper tantrum.

Seizing my ankle, he pulled me towards him and I twisted to stay on my side. With my left leg free, I waited until I was close enough and struck out; catching Ryan directly in the jaw. A horrifying crunch sounded and he wailed in pain; flying back and knocking over the table behind him. He sprawled limply across the floor and moaned pitifully. He wasn't out cold, but he was disabled for the moment.

Shakily, I pulled my legs underneath me and leveraged myself up and against the couch to pull myself into a standing position. I shuffled quickly to the front door, only to find that he’d installed a new dead bolt lock that I wouldn’t be able to undo without using my hands.

I jerked and twitched my wrists every which way, trying to free them. Although the tape loosened, they were still wrapped too tightly for me to get loose. Making a hasty decision, I ran back to my bedroom, using the wall to keep myself upright. My door was open so I quickly closed it and pressed the little button lock, even though I knew it wouldn’t hold anyone for very long.

My phone. I needed to somehow get the phone out of my pocket without using hands. Searching the room frantically, I quickly moved to my bedside table. Praying that it would work, I leaned against the table and tried to use it to push my phone up and out of my pocket. The corner of the wood dug harshly into my thigh as I lowered myself and tried to get leverage under the phone. Fortunately my khaki shorts were pretty loose and the pockets were open. Panting as I tried to work both the pocket from my phone and my hands from their ties, I heard Ryan yell from the front room.

"SAVANNAH!"

Feeling the adrenaline starting to pump through my body faster and faster, my eyes flew around the room wildly, looking for anything to use to free myself - when finally it dawned on me. I kicked my foot up on my bed and pulled my pillows onto the floor before climbing onto the bed awkwardly; bracing myself for the pain as I leaned over the edge to make myself upside down. Without arms to catch myself, my head slammed into the floor and the pillows I’d kicked down.

I jiggled my hips and miraculously felt my phone as it started to move toward the outside of my pocket. The house sounded eerily quiet considering I knew Ryan was still out there, and the knowledge forced me to work as quickly as I could to get the phone to slip out. Finally, after kicking my feet into the air several times, I was vertical enough to dislodge the phone. It fell to the floor by my head and I folded my body down to fall from the bed.

Blinking back the tears that keep obscuring my vision, I rolled onto my knees and tried to figure out how to dial my phone. There was only one way I could think of, and that meant I needed to somehow get it into my hands. I turned with difficulty and stared over my shoulder as my arms and hands tried to reach for the phone futilely.

An ominous thump on the wall sounded and my mind began to chant.

Please, please help me. Let me get this. God help me,
I repeated over and over.

When my hands finally grasped the phone, I wanted to shout with joy. Thankful that my heavy dresser was located horizontally from my door, I quickly scooted to it and leaned against it; bracing my legs against the door to help hold Ryan out if he tried to break it down.

My tingling, numb fingers fumbled with the phone while I tried to blindly figure out which end was up. Getting it to the correct position, I forced myself to breathe slowly and think. I couldn’t see the phone, so I needed to go from memory. I hit the side power switch with my thumb and then slid a finger across the unlock key. Thank the Lord I didn’t have an access code on my phone, or I knew I would’ve been out of luck. The slight vibration of the phone silently let me know it was unlocked.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," sang Ryan maniacally. His voice was again playful and high pitched, and he tapped menacingly on the wall.

As I sat with my shoulder blades braced on my dresser and my feet planted wide apart against the door, I saw the knob twist slowly before it jiggled back and forth. Ryan rammed into the door three times and then messed with the knob again, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he got into the room.

Ryan forcefully slammed his body again and my legs trembled from the power - but mercifully the door didn’t budge. Another heavy hit sounded and he screamed, "Just
wait
until I get my hands on you!"

Ryan was cursing and screaming on the other side of the wall and I heard him banging into things as he ran down the hall. A moment later he was back, and a solid object slammed into the wood; cracking it.

Holding the phone awkwardly, I tried to think of how I could dial nine-one-one…and then I realized I had no idea how to make sure I was even hitting the right keys. So I did the one thing I knew I could do from memory. I hit the shortcut icon on the top left corner - the fast dial for Gage.

As I tapped the button, Ryan yelled, "Open the door," while slamming whatever object he had into the door over and over.

Fear that he would get in and discover the phone fueled me to drop it, and I sat up; pushing it under my dresser and being careful not to touch the screen and end the call.

Another slam and suddenly another crack splintered across my door. Worried that I was about to be hit with the breaking debris, I scooted away as he slammed into it again and the lock gave way. Ryan kicked his way into my room, and seeing me cowering on the floor, immediately dropped the chair from the dining room and stared at me with a look of pure hatred.

"You
bitch!
" He was covered in sweat and his face was beet red. His jaw was discolored and I saw blood trickling down the side of it. Somehow my shoe must have cut him pretty badly to cause that.

"All I wanted was a
date.
I just wanted you to get to know me," he wailed, and then he stepped in and clutched me by the shoulders to lift me up.

"Are you scared, Savannah?" he asked ghoulishly. He shook my shoulders; snapping my head back painfully before reaching across his chest and back-handing me.

Throwing me on the bed, he screeched, "I was going to treat you special. But now I'm going to treat you the way you
ought
to be treated."

As he climbed onto the bed beside me, I closed my eyes for a moment and visualized Gage. I went back to the moment when we’d danced in the rain and he had hummed the lyrics to ‘Hey Pretty Girl’…when he held me and all seemed perfectly right in my world.

There was no doubt in my mind that Ryan was going to kill me now, and I prayed that the call to Gage hadn’t gone through. I didn't want him to walk into my house and find me dead.

Fire was spreading though my cheek where Ryan hit me, but it didn't compare to the ice cold terror that ran through my veins when he reached behind his back and pulled out a coiled length of rope.

Sunday - June 17, 2013

The Stuff of Nightmares

Any energy left in me surged once I saw the rope in his hands. I tried to buck myself away from him, but his free hand grabbed a hold of my waist and his fingers dug painfully into my side.

"It’ll hurt a lot less if you just let me have my fun, sweetheart."

The use of the endearment 'sweetheart' coming from his mouth sounded vile, and I screamed and grunted under the bindings of the tape over my mouth.

He dropped the rope next to me and for a moment I wondered if he changed his mind. Keeping his hand digging into my side, he leaned over and reached into my nightstand drawer to pull out a syringe.

I whimpered as I watched him bite the cap off the needle. Clearly this was a premeditated event. He had obviously set things up to drug me. Before I could create a new plan, he jabbed it into my thigh and sank the plunger; emptying the entire contents of the syringe into my body.

The drug burned as it spread through my veins like liquid fire. Numbness followed almost immediately afterwards, and I cringed when I started to feel my leg muscles unclench and relax.

Slowly, as if in a dream, he climbed off of me and started to tie the rope around my ankles. It took me a few moments to realize he was actually holding more than one piece of rope. He moved swiftly from one leg to the other, tying them securely to the bed frame.

I lay there with my arms trapped painfully behind my back, a swath of unyielding tape across my mouth, and my legs tied down to the bottom corners of the bed. Whatever drug he injected me with was beginning to work its way into my brain, and when I looked at Ryan as he climbed back on top of the bed and sat across my hips, I saw two of him.

His face blurred into two forms and then blended back into one. He twisted his fist into the shirt across my chest and balled it up as he roughly pulled me into a sitting position.