The Tears I Shed For Him...

Chapter 22~ Torture

            The tears that sprung out of my eyes got trapped within the cotton walls of the fabric that hindered my sight. It figures that out of all the people who would get kidnapped by a merciless gang, I would end up being the lucky winner. Not to mention we were in the nick of winter, when even the air in your lungs was brutally frigid enough to freeze you straight into hypothermia. Goosebumps invaded every inch of my epidermis as I struggled to chaff my bare body against the bed’s mattress, hoping friction will warm my rear-side long enough for me not to get frostbite. There was a sudden click by the door, and then the metallic doorknob jiggled animatedly. I froze in place and again, fear gripped at me to the point of suffocation. The door creaked open, the hinges sending shrill warnings into the room as a collision of voices erupted from the other side. Swallowing back more tears, I stifled a sob as a cold hand slid up the length of my leg.

            “Hello beautiful,” he hissed, his hand halting dangerously close to my intimate box. I thrashed my head to one side and yanked hard at my wrists. A crowd of men snickered in response, mocking me. I was astounded, and both frightened, by the number of voices I could hear in this relatively small sounding room. No sound echoed off the walls so the place must be packed. The door finally slammed shut as the last body sauntered into the room, fabrics shuffling as they anticipated what was to come next. The hand at my inner thigh lifted and now a chilling breath ran down my neck, sinking deep into my bones. I shivered and groaned out another tremulous sob.

            “Hope you’re ready,” he grunted into me, and then the blindfold was ripped away inexorably. I blinked a few times, the salty tears stinging my own eyes. The room was relatively dark, with only a small flash light illuminating the room—standing upright on a corner desk. My eyes adjusted well to the dim lighting; however I couldn’t get a good fix on the countenances of my captors. They all crowded by the door, with the only exceptions of two guys who stood on either side of me. All murmuring with deadly intentions, but I didn’t dare decipher their exact words. The guy to my right—I assumed he had been the one eagerly groping my leg before—tossed the fabric that had once been my blindfold aside, and then came back for the gag in my mouth. Before he got hold of it, the opposite shadow gripped his arm, halting his actions.

            “Hold on,” he commanded roughly, “let’s be patient first, to see how willin’ she is.”

Their voices rung a few bells in my mind, they were the two figures that argued over whether I should take the bullet or not back in my apartment. The one that had removed my blindfold was the reaper, while the other guy was the reasoning shadow. My wide eyes oscillated from each silhouette with visible fear.

            “Whateva’ ya’ say, Malik,” the reaper spat out sardonically, taking a step away from me.

            The opposite shadow, Malik, inclined toward me. As he neared my bare body, more tears slid free from my eyes, and instinctively I inched away from him, the shackles I was in clattering against the metallic headboard.

            “We’re going to ask some questions,” He started in a low voice, “and ya’r goin’ to give us answers. If ya’ try to fuck us over, then we’ll kill ya’ on the spot. Got it?”

            I nodded vigorously.

            “Good.” He reached in to remove the gag, twice more gingerly than the other guy. In part, I was thankful, but I hope it stays this way and they simply let me go in the end. I was still panting and was having it rough with the cold. Fortunately though, the bullet I had taken in my thigh had numbed gradually with the icy temperature, along with my fingers and toes. Or was it the blood loss that had me in such a state?