Cheater [Watty Awards 2011]

Cheater [HORROR]

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An insect buzzes in one of the several broken lights overhead, searching frantically for an escape from the blinding, blazing prison. It flickers violently, randomly, whenever it wants to. It has been doing this for half an hour.

The old, disused warehouse is the size of a small country, and yet, only two are present inside. There is no conversation; there has not been a single world throughout the several hours they have been here. He is too afraid. She is too proud. 

They entered the warehouse messy, not quietly at all. She wasn't worried about anybody hearing them - they were dead in the middle of nowhere. She hadn't used much force on him. He'd been too tired, too weak to fight back, but he'd still tried, mumbling and grunting behind the black tape she'd used to gag him. Yet, she'd thumped on his back, kicking him forward, pushing him onwards, cold. 

BANG!

Another crash of thunder. The lightning is too pale to see this time, but most of the time, they can catch a single white streak sprint across the dark sky.  

She secures him into his prison, an uncomfortable wooden chair at the edge of the warehouse. The chair has been secured onto the ground, her handy-work; click, click. The two handcuffs are sealed and finally, the tape can come off...

The black, silky material of her dress sweeps the floor as she paces in front of him; she licks her lips, slowly, the faint remainder of her crimson lipstick now smudged. She adjusts her black masquerade mask and smirks. Delicious. 

“You don’t have to…” He breaks the silence. That endless silence... Large beads of sweat run down his tear soaked face, the perspiration shows all over his shirt, under his arms, around his back. His filthy black trousers contain two bloody, beaten-up legs, two worn out muscles. He is too weak to stand. It is better that he is sitting down now. 

“Don’t speak unless I say.”  

“S-sorry.” He struggles again with the handcuffs, tugging aggressively forwards and backwards, thumping around on the freezing, wooden chair, tearing away parts of his own flesh in doing so. He hisses in pain, his bloody hands aching, when he realises that his efforts are futile. The more he tries, the more he dies. 

“You struggle, you die.” She warns, gazing at him with a sinister smile.

His hands still flail around until they, too, are too weak, too incapable of any further damage to themselves.

“Get me-get me out of here,” He begs, tears still pouring down. In the darkness of the empty warehouse, the more frightened he becomes, the louder the cries. But no one, not a soul, can help him. 

Outside, there is a full glowing moon – the only source of light, except for the broken one above them- and a booming thunderstorm. The rain is even louder than the thunder itself; harder than bricks it seems, the rain comes down. The hailstones are hitting the window so hard that it seems as though they might shatter.

She flings her head back and waves her hair behind her, cackling cruelly,

“I’ve waited,” She pauses, takes a loud breath, “too long for this day. Too long for this day to come…”

“What are you talking about?” The place is so completely deserted that his desperate voice sounds like a shout, and hers, a furious roar. Both voices echo into the distance, hit the walls and go no further. They are too far from anyone, from anything, for anybody to hear them. There is no chance of escape for him. The idea? Practically impossible. 

“You don’t remember… do you?”

“I…” He has had enough pain, enough torture. He has had enough of whatever it is she intends to do, and all he wants to do is sleep. Sleep, and maybe never wake up... He is blacking out.

She growls, rushing to the nearest sink and tearing apart the cupboard in search of a jug, a container...

Something…

Anything! 

Got it. 

She turns on the tap and the icy cold water rushes so quickly, splashes so rapidly, that the sink starts to vibrate with the force of it all. It is not long before she grabs something and...

"There." She chuckles to herself. 

He can't find the funny side. He screams as the freezing water hits him.  It is not exhilarating like a shower. It is not cooling like on a hot day. Instead, it is shocking and unexpected, like a twist in a horror. It chills him down to his spine and gives him lightning jolts of paining shivers. 

He trembles intensively. Who is she? What does she want? So many questions race around inside his furiously-pounding head and he feels like bursting out into tears. He can not die now. Not like this. 

For what?

“I…” He stammers.

“Don’t talk, just listen. I’m going to tell you a story… And let me tell you now, it doesn't end pretty.”