“You lied to that poor girl Bella,” Georgie sneered, dragging her to his old pick-up truck. He’d bought it off some guy when he got out of the joint the third time.
“No I didn’t,” Bella replied, wincing as he shoved her into the passenger seat. This time around she wasn’t gonna make the mistake of thinking the boys could somehow miraculously save her. She would have to rely on herself… again. “Where the fuck are you taking me?” she growled. Georgie frowned, climbing inside the truck and starting the engine. He hit her with a loose fist, enjoying the pain that flickered across her face.
“You just keep runnin’ away from me Bella. It’s startin’ to get on my nerves,” he growled. For a second his mood swing surprised her, before she remembered that he’d always had that kind of odd behavior. One second she would be amusing him, and the next second she was pissing him off to the point that he’d get violent.
His eyes were narrowed, focused completely on the road. ‘Probably thinking about the best place to dump my body when I’m dead,’ she surmised. It felt weird to her not to be at all frightened by the prospect of dying. ‘I guess being faced with it more times than most musta made me immune. That would be cool.’ She’d never wanted to be scared when death finally did claim her.
“Those other girls,” Georgie said with a sadistic grin, “were just practice. You gonna be real fun to kill.” He licked his grotesquely chapped lips. “The first one, she was a whore; I thought it was you for a sec, but she was too young. A real excitin’ little girl. Not sorry to see her go. Little slut was prob’ly diseased anyway.” Bella stared out the window, trying to ignore his vile words. “You stop ignorin’ me you little bitch!” He slapped her again with the back of his hand. He grinned when she didn’t make a sound. “You always could take a hit.” He chuckled nostalgically.
Bella remained silent until they pulled up to Georgie’s rundown trailer. She almost forgot that he had no idea she’d been there before. She had to refrain from trying to spot the lookout point that she and Owen had found the previous morning. She kept her eyes averted to the ground nearly jumping when her phone vibrated once, signaling she’d gotten a text. ‘Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot I have my goddamn phone!’ she thought, reaching into her pocket and turning it on silent. It would be best if Georgie had no idea that she had it.
‘Maybe Bryce can use those magical computer skills of his to track the fucking piece a shit,’ she hoped, feeling stupid for even thinking it. ‘Get it through your fucking head! They’re not comin’! Just like nobody came the last time. You’re on your own.’ She felt Georgie’s clammy hands grip the back of her neck.
“Come along now Jelly Belly.” He pushed her forward, digging his black finger nails into her skin, drawing drops of crimson blood. Bella moved her numb legs toward the trailer that symbolized imminent doom. Don’t be fooled though, Rosabelle Harken never gave up. She never quit.
When she was inside his messy trailer, he shoved her onto a wooden chair in the center. He grinned at her, but it faltered. The other girls – the first ones – hadn’t been so easily subdued. They kicked and screamed and fought, trying in vain not to be taken to the dreaded second location. He’d been prepared for her to fight, it’s why he started killing girls who looked like her, so he could practice. ‘I guess I over-estimated her,’ he laughed to himself.
“You’re not really makin’ this fun for me Jelly,” he grumbled. She lifted her eyes to his.
“Fuck you,” she spat venomously. Oh, she knew Georgie better than he thought she did. The second he touched her, all those memories from that time came flooding back. The entire Middle School era that she had so successfully blocked out was no longer a part of that void she’d created.
Georgie slapped her, the metal wedding ring he wore leaving a long cut across her right cheek. “You deserved the punishment my friends gave you, you dirty little whore.” His eyes glowed with a terrifying need to avenge his beloved Brooke. She had been the only thing keeping him together. Without her, he was nothing.
Bella stared at him, no fear, no anger, no trust, nothing. She watched him, her intelligent eyes, calculating. She never said much when she’d lived with him, but she was always watching, learning. Somehow she’d managed to be around on his good days, and out running errands when he was at his worst. He despised the way she seemed able to anticipate his next move as if she could read his thoughts. ‘Not this time.’
He grabbed her hands and began to tie them behind her back. He’d been waiting for seven years to live out his fantasy. Seven long years. He was going to make her suffer like he had. He was going to kill her slowly. He made sure her knots were tight before grinning at her. He brandished the knife he’d held to that little girl’s throat.
“Don’t you fret Jelly. Death will be the least of your worries.” He leaned down and pressed his scaly, cracking lips to her cheek. Standing up abruptly, he slashed the knife across her face, leaving a thin, oozing cut. She flinched, keeping the cry of pain from breaking through her lips. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he could still hurt her. But she knew that remaining silent, was going to make things worse.
“You think you’re a tough little bitch, huh?” He smirked at her, extracting a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He pulled one out and lit it, grinning like a madman. ‘Oh fuck!’ Her eyes grew wide as she figured out what he was thinking. She thought about protesting, but the idea of breaking rule number eight, caused her to close her eyes and clamp her jaw shut.
She heard the familiar click of the lighter and a deep inhale. A cloud of gray smoke was blown into her face, making her cough. Georgie smirked at her. Oh how different she was from the other girls. They kicked and screamed and threatened. But they hadn’t known who he was. They hadn’t known just precisely who they were dealing with. Bella did. They had never been tied up, and beaten. Bella had.
Georgie sucked in another lungful of smoke as he stared, frustrated, at the complacent look on his daughter’s face. He ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and jammed it into her bare shoulder. The girl’s eyes shot open, but her jaw remained locked. Georgie gritted his teeth, snaking an oily arm around her neck to keep her from moving.
The pain was almost unbearable, Bella wanted it to end, but it just burned deeper and deeper. The smell of searing flesh made her nauseous. “Scream, dirty little skank,” he sneered, his hot breath on her ear. It was too much; she’d assumed that she would never feel that kind of pain ever again. She’d forgotten how much it hurt. An earsplitting shriek tore through her lips. It was the first of many.
Georgie flicked the roach of his cigarette to the puke green carpet and stomped it out. He was smirking viciously, his hardened, angry eyes smoldering malevolently. “Honey, I’m just getting started.” He turned his back and stepped over piles of junk to the other side of the room where a hot glue gun was located. There was no glue in the gun, but it was plugged in anyway, attached to a long extension cord.
Bella watched him, trying to keep the tears from streaming down her face. Her mind was focused on her rules. They were the only thing keeping her from losing all sense of rational thought. She had to get out. She had to find some way to get the hell out of the mess she was in. ‘I don’t wanna die,’ she thought frantically, thinking about what Owen had said to her. Her heart was beating spastically and her breath caught in her throat as Georgie advanced toward her with the scorching tool. Georgie leaned down so his face was in front of hers.
“Everybody is gonna know that you belonged to me. They’ll know I brought ya into the world and that I took ya out of it,” he laughed. Bella squirmed, trying to get her hands out of the ropes as he lifted her shirt up. He brought the scalding metal to her skin, laughing heinously as she writhed underneath him. He pressed the metal down harder, drawing a shaky G into her abdomen while she tried to keep from screaming.
“You can scream,” Georgie offered. “No one can hear you out here.” His eyes narrowed and he pushed harder on the glue gun until she screamed louder than expected. “Those idiot brothers of yours will never find you here.” Bella glared at him.
“That’s ‘cause they’re not lookin’,” she spat. Georgie laughed, finishing the G that was beginning to bubble and blister. “Fuck you. No wonder Ma killed herself!”
“Fuckin’ bitch.” He slapped her second degree burn, and her resultant scream seemed to echo off the canyon walls.
Georgie stopped when he got to the second G, so that burned into Bella’s stomach were the letters GEORG, he would finish later. He yawned, setting down the hot glue gun, unaware that Bella was working on untangling her wrists from their binds. Her father watched her closely as he stumbled to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He eyed her as he took a long swig.
“You thirsty Bella?” he asked. She said nothing. She knew that if she opened her mouth for even a second, she wouldn’t be able to contain her cries. She may even resort to begging for her life.
She didn’t tear her gaze from the man who’d spawned her. The man she hated with every fiber of her being. Most people claimed they hated something (food, people, places, objects, animals), but a good majority had never felt the real poison of hatred flowing through their bodies. Not like Bella had. ‘I shoulda killed him when I had the chance!’ her thoughts screamed, but the more rational side of her brain knew that she didn’t want to experience the feeling of taking another human life, even one as vile and deserving as Georgie Wheeler.
The man approached her with a plate of stone cold eight-day-old pizza, and held it to her mouth. “Come on, eat the food Jelly,” he said, feigning a hurt expression. His eyes were watching her with the same hatred and rage that always seemed to linger under the surface. “What? My food ain’t good enough for you, you selfish spoiled slut?”
If Bella wasn’t in such excruciating pain, she would’ve laughed. “Nothing about you is good enough for me.” Georgie growled under his breath and threw the empty glass beer bottle at his daughter, who’d just barely managed to dodge it. She heard the glass shatter as it hit the flimsy wall behind her. He smashed the plate on the ground, falling into one of the temper tantrums she’d been forced to deal with when she’d lived with him. An idea formed in the man’s mind as he looked down at the broken glass at his feet. He grabbed a rather sharp-looking piece and smiled a terrible, decisive smile.
“You know Bella my dear; things could’ve been different, if you’d only listened to me.” He gripped the glass in his palm and stalked forward. She writhed and twisted in her chair as he moved toward her. He thought about plunging the object into her heart, or slitting her perfect throat, but where was the fun in that? Besides, he hadn’t yet finished his name.
“No!” Bella shouted when he brought the glass to her perfectly tanned skin. Next to his second G, he cut a huge, deep I and an E. Blood spilled from the wounds like ruby tears, pooling at the waistband of her pants, soaking into the fabric.
“Not so immune to pain now, huh Bella?” he snickered. Tears were flowing from her eyes and her expression was twisted into a mildly intimidating scowl.
“Go fuck yourself.” She would admit to nothing. Her response made Georgie laugh with amusement. He’d give her one thing; she definitely took a lot more punishment than the others had.
He balled his hands into fists, ready to pound his rage into the girl. He stuck mostly to her bleeding, mutilated stomach. He didn’t want to break his hands on her cheekbones, nose, or jaw. Besides, if he fucked up her face, it would be much harder to see how much pain he was causing.
Bella tried her best to block out everything, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. ‘Happy place?’ she thought. ‘Do I even have one anymore?’ Another blow to her inflamed, bloody abdomen made her horribly nauseous. She tried to keep the vomit down because she knew throwing up would just make everything worse. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, she had to get out, her body couldn’t take much more of his abuse.
After a few minutes, Georgie was tired and bored. He realized, as exhaustion settled over him, that he was having way too much fun to quit. He grinned down at the girl who was hissing in pain with every breath she took. He snatched up a warm Redbull that was lying carelessly on the soiled carpet. He chugged it down, smashing the can in his fist and tossing it over his shoulder.
“I’ve got somethin’ extra special in store for ya now.” Bella’s eyes never left him as he turned his back rummaging through the junk on his couch. She wriggled her wrists, finally sliding her left hand, and then her right, loose from the binds. She kept her hands behind her back as Georgie turned around. In his fist was something she’d recognized from her time with him. It was a brown leather belt with sharp pieces of fiber glass glued to the end. When she was younger, he’d coat the tips with lemon juice to make it even more painful.
Bella shook her head vigorously as he stalked forward, that malicious grin stretched across his face. Her eyes briefly landed on the hot glue gun that was sitting on the coffee table, within reach. Georgie laughed at her adverse reaction. He stroked the leather strap lovingly.
“Didn’t think I kept ol’ Bessie didja? I knew I’d see you again Jelly Bean. I knew I’d get ta use ‘er again.” He gazed from Bella, to the weapon in his hand. When he was standing just a foot away, Bella kicked her leg upward, hitting him as hard as she could in the crotch, ignoring the pain that shot through her.
“AH! Fuckin’ cunt!” he screamed, doubling over. He was only down for a few seconds; as he started pulling himself to his feet, laughing horrifically, Bella lunged for the hot glue gun. “You think that’ll stop me, girl?” She snatched the gun from the table, and as he stumbled toward her, grabbing her left arm roughly, she stabbed the scorching tip into his blood thirsty eye.
The man lurched backwards screaming in agony. He tumbled over a mess of miscellaneous items, holding his eye, blood pouring down his face and soaking his already blood-stained wife-beater.
Bella didn’t wait for him to recover; she tripped and stumbled toward the swinging door, cutting the soles of her feet on broken glass. She winced, running/limping away from the trailer into the pitch black night. Behind her, she heard crashing coming from Georgie’s house, but she didn’t look back. She ran toward the rocky hills as fast as her mutilated body would allow her to.
She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone as she dragged herself into a tiny, cave-like hole carved into a rock. She’d much rather die at the mercy of a hungry animal than at the hand of her father. She pressed 7, and then Talk. The phone rang once, before it was answered.
* * *
Another agonized scream came from the tiny trailer below them. They were spread out around it in pairs, waiting for Frankie’s signal to go in. Owen winced again and Oliver set a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Please,” the kid begged, “if we wait any longer she could be dead!” The man put a finger to his lips. He hid his own doubts well.
“Bella’s tough. She’s a fighter, she’ll be okay.” His words were meant to reassure both of them. Oliver would never do anything that would cause her death. Their plan was dangerous enough as it was, they couldn’t risk moving too soon and getting her killed.
Owen looked pained. Another shriek echoed in their ears, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He didn’t know he could ever feel pain like that. He’d finally worked up the courage to confess his feelings and she just had to go and get herself kidnapped. He couldn’t help thinking that if only he’d been there. It was like every time she needed him most, he’d abandoned her.
The screams from inside the trailer ceased, making Owen’s heart jump in his chest. Oliver stared nervously at the tiny little house. But Bryce and Frankie were watching, and they hadn’t given the distress signal, which felt like a good sign to them both.
All of a sudden a tremendous roar sounded from inside, and Jake and Zane’s flashlight blinked twice. Bella was fighting. Frankie’s flashlight flashed three times, he and Bryce were moving in. Below, they saw a figure crawling into the shadows. Immediately, Owen and Oliver began to scramble down, but Owen stopped suddenly as his phone rang.
“Bella? Stay where you are,” he breathed, relieved. “I’m coming to get you.” Oliver tossed him the keys to his car, before moving to join his younger brothers. He was really going to enjoy the rest of his night. “But…” Owen protested. Oliver shook his head.
“She needs you. We’ll take care of Georgie.”
Owen found Bella curled up, sobbing awkwardly. “Bella!” he called, slowly lifting her out of her hiding place. She was shivering and sticky with blood. He cradled her in his arms, gritting his teeth as she whimpered in pain.
He carefully hurried to the car that was parked a five minute walk away from Georgie Wheeler’s dwelling. He threw open the car door and laid her gently in the backseat. He wanted to examine her wounds, but he knew he had to get her to a hospital as soon as possible.
“Where’re you takin’ me?” she mumbled weakly. Owen turned on the engine and began speeding back to town.
“The hospital,” he replied as if it were obvious. Bella sat up, alarmed.
“No – Ow!” she groaned.
“What do you mean no? You’re all fucked up!”
“Maria,” Bella coughed. “Call Maria.” She tossed her phone into the passenger seat before lying back down. Hospitals freaked her out, and Maria always took care of them when something bad happened. She was one of the top pediatric doctors in the state. She would know what to do.
“Alright, alright,” he mumbled, picking up the phone and calling Bella’s oldest sister. Maria instructed him to meet her at her private office in the middle of town.
Owen hung up the phone, and turned his attention back to the road, wishing he could’ve made makeshift bandages for her wounds. Bella coughed. “Ugh,” she groaned.
“What? You okay? Am I driving too fast?”
“No,” she grumbled. “Fuck rule eleven.” Owen thought for a second, racking his brain trying to remember what it was.
When it came to him, he asked, “What were you wrong about?”
“Didn’t think anybody’d come for me.” She closed her eyes, wishing fervently that the pain would go away.
Smiling wryly, Owen glanced back at her and sped up.