Murders Of The Past

TWENTY-FOUR

THE MOMENT I hear his footsteps I perk up, standing as stiff as a tree. The ropes are around my wrists, but loose, so I can easily slide my hands out, and my phone is hidden where Owen won't find it- he shouldn't find it. Nothing should look out of place to him, there's no reason he should know Audrey helped me.

  "How's it hangin?" Owen asks ans snorts. I roll my eyes.

  "Ha ha."

  "I know, I'm funny."

  "You're somethin," I mutter under my breath. "So what do you have planned today? More torturing me with your voice? Honestly, I'd rather you cut off my arm," I hiss. Owen raises his brows, a smile tugging at his lips.

  "You know, you're right." He turns around and walks to the table.

  "Well of course I am."

  "You've been in here long enough, and I'm not sure what to do with you anymore."

  "Shoot me?" I quirk a brow.

  "Well, I could."

  "But?"

  "But I'd rather not waste my bullets on you." He turns around, a blade shimmering in his hand. "But see, with a knife, you don't have to worry about wasting anything." He stalks towards me, his eyes mischievous and his smile sly. It's a new look on him.

  "Just do what you have to do, wipe off the blood, and put it away for later."

  "Owen, have you ever been shot before?" My question seems to grab his interest as his eyes light up and his smile stretches.

  "Yes, actually, I have. A few times."

  "But not enough to kill you?" His smile drops at that. He comes to a stop inches away from me, blade barely touching my cheek.

  "I think it's time I put you out of your misery." His hazel eyes, sinister, linger on mine for a while, and I'm beginning to notice an evil vibe from him, one that I didn't notice before.

  "Owen!" The blade scratches across my cheek and I cry out, my skin burning like fire for a second before tingling and feeling cold. I bite down on my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I haven't been hurt like this in years; my body isn't used to this anymore.

  "Audrey, go upstairs!" Owen shouts.

  "Someone's at the door."

  "Tell them to come back another time."

  "It's the police, they want to see you." My eyes shoot open and for a second I forget about the pain, until Owen moves, gliding the blade across my cheek again and I hiss.

  "I'll be back to finish you later," he growls in my ear as I feel him pass me.

  When the door shuts I let out a pained cry, wondering how I got through this type of pain before.

  OK, Sadie, focus. The police are here. That's step one of the plan. Step two is get out of the basement.

  I push off the pole, wiggling my hands to get the rope off, but it doesn't slide off like it was supposed to do. Something tickles my cheek and when I realize it's blood I start pulling forward, trying to get out of the rope but it stays on. He retied it. He knew and he retied it.

  "Dammit!" I scream, my breathing becoming quick as I grow furious. He retied the damn rope!

  My phone rings and I look down at my chest, growling. How the hell am I supposed to answer that?