My head smacked against something solid, jolting me awake. Yet when my eyes burst open, I saw nothing—darkness enveloped me like a shadowy cocoon. I tried to move, only to realize my hands and feet were tied together in front of me. Trying to open my mouth was pointless too; something kept my lips sealed.
Duct tape.
The sensation of being in motion made it easy to decipher that I was in a vehicle. This assumption was further solidified by the distinct sound of tires squealing as the driver cut the wheel hard. My body slid across the space, once again slamming into something hard.
Yep, I was in a trunk.
I tested my restraints and cursed. I was effectively immobilized. Wiggling my fingers—the only thing I could really move—I felt around the trunk's interior for anything within my limited vicinity that could be useful, but found nothing. Whenever my body slid around, my fingers searched, but continuously came up empty. I was fucked, completely at the mercy of my captors.
On cue, voices rose above the engine.
"Ain't this some bullshit," said a male with a heavy Southern accent. "We just fucking left Haven and now that big goon Toro wants us to come back?"
"George, if Doc wants her brought back, we bring her back. Simple as that." This voice was also male, but with a slightly less thick accent than George's. "So, let's just get her back there and not piss off that crazy bastard. I like my skin attached to my body."
There was a scoff. "Fuck Doc. That fat bastard wouldn't be shit without Toro. Now that guy, he scares the piss out of me. You should be more worried about him, Walt."
"Toro scares you more than a guy who we've watched eat people alive?" Walt replied as if shocked by his friend's statement.
"Yep. It's always the quiet ones that you gotta worry about. Besides, don't act like we ain't eaten our fair share of people." He barked a laugh then coughed.
"Hey, at least the folks we ate were dead!"
They both roared with laughter.
I dug my nails into the floor of the trunk in fear and frustration, dragging them across the cold metal. Pain erupted in my fingertips as I thought about how I had landed myself in this situation.
What lovely hair you have...
The sight of Parker's severed head resting beside that freak, his eyeless gaze, lids frozen open with terror, had me ready to rush forward, wanting nothing more than to kill that abomination.
"Tsk-tsk, young lady," Doc said, flashing bloodstained fangs and wagging a finger at me. "You wouldn't want to go and do something silly now, would you? Think of what will happen to your friends. Your other friends, of course."
I had frozen at that.
Remembering the sight of Tony's jaw clenched in anger, kneeling on the floor as he held his hands over Vick's wound immediately abolished my rage. Vick had been as white as a sheet and in need of medical attention fast. At that point, I could only hope that Hobbs was alive and somewhere within Haven's walls, that someone would find him and he would save Vick's life. If I attacked, we all would've surely been killed. Like a deflated balloon fluttering back to earth, my foot sank back to the floor and my shoulders slumped in surrender.
"Wise decision."
Doc snapped his fingers, summoning a dozen men from the shadows, guns drawn on us. I had been unable to do anything but drop my beloved weapons and pray this wasn't how it all ended.
Watching that monster stand and clap excitedly as he walked towards me was like something out of a nightmare. He stopped inches away from my face and leaned in. Licking his quivering lips, he reached towards my hair with a swollen hand. The metallic stench of his breath when he let forth a moan was revolting. I gagged and attempted to pull away, but he gripped the back of my neck, and I found myself staring into soulless brown eyes.
"What lovely hair you have! Oh, the plans I have for you, my dear."
That was the last thing I remember before waking up in this trunk. Poor Parker. Regardless of how I felt about him, seeing what was left of his headless corpse; he didn't deserve that horrific fate.
"Did you get a look at her?" George asked, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Get a look at who?"
"Mother Teresa. Who do you think? The girl in the trunk, you dumbass."
Walt chuckled. "Fuck you, George. And no, I didn't. I try to avoid any eye contact with Toro. When he came out from that house with someone under his arm, I just turned away until he told us we'd be the ones taking her to Doc's dead brother's place. I couldn't care less about what she looked like."
George grunted. "Should've looked, man. She's got a hell of a body on her. Could eat her right up!"
Again, they roared with laughter. After a slight pause, George spoke again. When he did, a chill ran up my spine.
"Want to take a gander at her?"
"What? No way. Let's just get her where she's going and be done with it. I like being alive, with my skin right where it is, thank you very much."
"Come on, Walt. Don't be such a pussy. When's the last time you been with a woman?"
My eyes went wide.
"What the fuck are you getting at, George?"
"Don't play stupid. You know exactly what I'm getting at." George let a sinister chuckle escape his lips as the car slowed to a stop. "I think I'll have a little fun before we get back to Haven."
I shut my eyes, trying to block out the reality of what was happening. I focused on the reasons I'd made it this far, what kept one foot moving in front of the other.
My anchors.
I waited to hear my father's strict yet nurturing voice telling me to keep calm, assess the situation, create a solution to the problem, then execute each step with utter precision.
I waited for Kip's piercing blue eyes to melt away my fears. His gorgeous smile, entrancing me...right up until some smart-ass comment flew from his mouth, making me laugh.
I waited for my mother's angelic presence to wash over me, making me feel safe, loved....
Nothing.
Ominous silence greeted my mind.
I saw nothing.
I heard nothing.
And that terrified me more than anything.
In that moment, I knew I was alone. The familiar darkness of despair and depression reared its ugly head from the depths, trying to break through the defenses it took me so long to construct. I could hear the whispers of its cloying, toxic words in my mind, laying the foundation for an assault I feared I wouldn't be able to keep at bay this time.
Not without them...
Why had they abandoned me now? Had something happened to them? The thought of—
Blinding light stung my eyes as the trunk popped open.
"Oh, look. She's awake!" George said, excitedly. "This will make things much more interesting. Help me get her out, Walt. We don't have a lot of time."
Hands took hold of my feet, pulling me towards the edge. I tried to kick, punch, bite—anything—but every one of my weapons was neutralized by the tape. Outside of this trunk meant possible death, or worse.
"No way, George, come on man. You know what Doc will do to you if he finds out about this."
My neck rested on the end of the trunk as George stopped pulling me. I couldn't make out any details about them; my eyes still hadn't adjusted to the light.
"If you're going to be such a little bitch about it, go sit in the car!" George roared, pulling me over the lip of the trunk. The air shot from my lungs as my back hit the ground.
"God dammit. You're gonna get us both killed," Walt hissed.
He would not be my savior. His angry footsteps faded in the distance as he stomped away.
"Your loss!" George screamed over the slam of a car door.
The piercing light faded as George stepped over me, blotting out the sun. He stood there for a moment; I could feel his eyes roaming over my body, hear his exaggerated breath. When I tried to bring my knees up as he dropped to his, he pushed them down, falling on top of them and bringing his legs in, pinning my lower half.
Black teeth erupted in a sneer behind thin lips that were blistered and cracked.
"It's been so long since I had a woman." I could feel his whole-body shivering. "Don't worry," he whispered, leaning in towards me, "this won't take long."
A muffled scream erupted from my throat as I launched my head up, mustering everything I had left into this one strike. He cried out in pain when my forehead connected with his decaying teeth. His hands shot to his mouth and he rolled backwards onto the ground, writhing in pain and flailing awkwardly. I tried to worm my way over to the edge of the road, desperate to get as far away as I could. Maybe if I could just get down the embankment—
Pain erupted in my gut.
George launched another kick into my stomach that had my breath once again fleeing my lungs. I curled up as much as my restraints would allow, doing all I could to defend myself against George's assault.
"You fucking bitch!" he bellowed in rage, spitting a mouthful of blood at me.
He pulled back for another kick but halted the blow. Instead, he began working to loosen his belt buckle. He unlatched, tearing it from the loops and tossing it away. My eyes widened in horror when he bent over me, one hand grabbing hold of my feet to pull me close with his other hand working the button on his pants.
"Hope that was worth it," he hissed. Blood ran down his nose and chin in earnest. "I'll make you p—"
"George!"
Dust flew into the air as Walt slid to a stop next to us pointing wildly behind George, hopping up and down and sputtering over his words.
"He's—the radio—almost here—!"
George sat up and grabbed Walt's shirt. "Spit it out, Walt!"
Walt smacked George's hand away and began pointing in earnest, thrusting his hand behind George like a jackhammer, the veins in his neck bouncing as he screamed, "Just turn around!"
George spun his upper half around like a top. "It can't be," he said after a moment, voice quaking with fear. "What is he doing out here? And how the fuck did he get here so fast?" He spun back to Walt. "Did you radio him?"
Walt scoffed and looked mortified, shaking his head, he replied, "Why in the fuck would I do that?"
George jumped up, relieving the pressure in my chest. I gasped through the tape for breath, trying to gulp as much air as I could back into my lungs.
"What are we going to do?" Walt asked.
"We'll toss her ass back in the trunk and tell him we had car trouble. Grab her arms," George instructed before reaching down and taking hold of my feet.
Hands reached under my armpits and yanked me up hard off the ground. "Jesus Christ, he's almost here."
"Just throw her in the trunk!" George bellowed.
I felt myself bounce off the rear bumper before falling back to the ground as their attempt to toss me into the trunk failed miserably. I rolled to my side, watching boots stomp around in frustration.
"Shit!" George wailed. "You got your pistol?"
"Of course I do," Walt replied, reaching behind him and pulling out a small revolver. "Why?"
"Just be ready...we may need it." George stepped in front of me.
Through his legs, I was finally able to see what had them in a full-blown panic.
Heat from the cracked asphalt rose into the air like a translucent wave, blurring the small yellow dot in the distance. A vapor of dirt trailed behind it, rising into the atmosphere and blanketing the blue skies above like an impending storm. Whoever was coming, was coming in a hurry. I could feel the engine against the pavement as much as I could hear its thunderous roar; the driver had the accelerator to the floor, pushing the engine to the max. The dot grew rapidly, and within seconds morphed into a yellow muscle car that rolled to a stop a few feet away.
"Stay. Calm," George whispered in a shaky voice.
I didn't think things couldn't possibly get much worse at this point, but as the engine went silent and the car door swung open, the air suddenly reeked of foreboding. George gave a half-hearted wave as a giant of a man stepped out. He towered over the car's roof like a skyscraper. Shutting the door, he crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the frame, his black shirt clinging to him. But no...not a shirt—they were tattoos covering his entire bare torso. Even his face was slathered with ink, making it impossible to decipher any kind of facial features or ethnicity.
But those eyes...
"Toro! What brings you out here?" George asked. He thrust a thumb in Walt's direction. "We ran into a little car trouble and wanted to make sure the cargo—" he gave me a little kick "—was okay for Doc before we made our way back to Haven." He turned to look at Walt. "Isn't that right?"
"Th-that's right," Walt replied, smiling sheepishly.
Toro's eyes looked between the two of them before they settled on mine. His eyelids narrowed ever so slightly, as if searching for something. The toothpick in his mouth rolled from one side to the other before he pushed himself away from the car's frame. He stood motionless, looking between the three of us until he began to slowly lower his arms. I blinked, and in that second Toro had moved to stand over me, holding George off the ground with one hand.
"What the hell, Toro?" Walt screamed, bringing his revolver up and aiming it at the behemoth's chest.
Toro paid no heed to Walt; he kept his eyes forward, watching George squirm in his grasp. George's eyes bulged from his skull like they would explode from the sockets. Reaching up with his free hand, Toro grabbed a handful of thin blond hair from the back of George's head. I watched in horror as Toro began to pull firmly, like peeling the skin from an orange. The front of George's throat began to separate from his neck. Blood poured from the wound like a geyser, drenching Toro in a sea of red. George's gurgled cries were horrific as crimson stained the ground beneath them.
Bang!
Blood erupted from Toro's shoulder. He didn't even register the impact of the bullet from Walt's revolver. The only movement was the toothpick in his mouth, switching sides.
Walt looked at the gun in shock. "I didn't mean to...my finger slipped!" He dropped the revolver and began shuffling backwards.
A low growl escaped Toro's lips and he slowly turned his head towards the shooter. Keeping his eyes on Walt, Toro yanked hard with his right hand, and, with one brutal shake, ripped the last few strands of skin from George's throat and tossed the macabre package over his shoulder. The rest of George crumpled up like an accordion in the dirt beside me. Our eyes locked, and I watched the light fade from the dying man; his body convulsed violently, like he was being electrocuted. I wanted nothing more than to be able to cover my ears from the horrific bubbling cries as he gasped for breath, agonizingly ear-wrenching.
Mercifully for both of us, the throes lasted only a few seconds before his body stopped thrashing and his cries faded into nothingness. The beautiful silence was momentary as another piercing wail came from behind me. I rolled over to see Toro lifting Walt, just as he had George, effortlessly from the ground. I thought Toro had hold of his groin, but I was sorely mistaken.
Toro gripped a hilt of a weapon, but it was impossible to see how long the blade was because it vanished entirely into Walt's body. Up and up Toro's hand went, as if he was raising a lever. Walt's screams of agony intensified as blood shot from his groin like a fire hose fighting a fiery blaze at full blast. Organs began adding themselves to the growing pool of crimson below. The sudden overwhelming stench of shit made my eyes begin to water, but I couldn't look away from the brutality.
Toro stopped the blade at Walt's chest. With his free hand, he reached up and laid it flat against the top of Walt's head. Toro turned, just enough for me to see his lip curl in a sneer. With a grunt, Toro's knife shot upward, slicing through Walt's body like a chainsaw through butter and exploding outwards from his jaw in an indescribably nightmarish display.
As Walt's body landed with a sickening thud next to the car, I sat there frozen in terror. Even without my restraints, the inhuman savagery I had just witnessed held me captive. This...monster, who had literally cut a man in half, had just slaughtered two men whom he seemed to have some affiliation with, without hesitation.
Why?
Now, as he stalked towards me, murderous eyes boring into mine, I tried once again to hear those who could soothe my trepidation, but:
My Father's voice was gone.
Kip's voice was gone.
My mother's voice was gone.
But the entity I knew best was a demon never far from my thoughts. Strengthened by my hopeless depression, it cackled in my mind, reveling that its laughter was the only familiar presence within.