This is life.

72 ➤ Helpless

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After Enrique's body was carelessly dragged out of the room, the remaining four of us were left alone. Hours pass and I eventually let my head rest on the table. My hand and entire left arm was throbbing in indescribable pain. My anxiety is risen when I notice my hand turning a sick purple colour. The blood had dried and irritated my skin greatly.

I need time to concentrate on being able to contain myself and keep calm.

"I'm hungry." I hear Rachel whisper. "I'm very tired." Jason adds. "Is she asleep?" Michael asks. "Let Britney sleep, Michael." "I would agree with your wife. Let her rest, she needs it more than anybody." Jason says. "Excuse me, my wife and I just witnessed a murder." "She has taken more than any of us at this point. I'm sure no harm can come from letting her sleep." Jason snaps. "Now please be quiet. I don't want her to wake up." "I'm not sleeping." I say simply as I lift my head. "How many hours have the two of you been here?" Rachel asks. "I'm not sure. We've been drugged majority of the time but I think two days." "Two days?!" She says with genuine surprise I shrug weakly. "Maybe more, maybe less. Like I said I'm not sure." "What has he been doing to you guys?!" "Torturing us, that's what." Jason answers her. "You guys need to get out of here as soon as possible. He said I'd be dead in three days, four if I'm lucky. But by that time everyone else would already be dead." "Does that mean we're going to die sometime today or tomorrow?" I nod. "Jesus Christ, I'm not letting my wife get hurt even more than she already has, she's carrying my child!" "You're pregnant?" Jason asks. Rachel nods meekly and he turns to me. "We have to get out." He tells me. I wonder what your reaction would be if you knew that I'm pretty much in the same state as her.

I shake my head with discouragement. "How?" I ask sadly. "My hand..." I cried. "Listen to me. We're going to find a way, okay?" Jason says. "How did he even get him? He wasn't even in the country." I say to myself. "Was that man I spoke to before not from here?" Michael asks. "I don't know anymore. I don't know how any of this is possible." "Look, just calm down. We'll figure something out, I promise." Jason comforts. "You're not the one who has blood on their hands and you're not the one with their actual hand nailed to a table!" I yell. "Britney stop yelling." Rachel tells me. "I'm sorry I just...I can't, I can't think straight. Don't ask me questions, I can't answer anything right now. My head's not on right." Silence is what persists for the next few passing minutes, that is, until the door is opened again. Channing walks in, and behind him he pulls a horizontal metal bar being supported by two tall vertical bars. It seems to be on a platform of some sort to make it mobile. In Channing's free hand he holds large chains and a new black bag. "Guys, give everyone here a fresh cloth." He instructs happily. It seems from nowhere, two new men come in. They each wore gloves. One held multiple strips of material and the other held a metal bucket in his hand. One of the men dip in a piece of material into the bucket's contents and walks over to Jason. He protests as it's tied around his head and in between his mouth. He screams in pain under his breath. I can't imagine how much it must hurt with the open wound. Soon it's my turn and I find out.

The way the material rubs against my open wound and the fact that it burns has me in tears. Michael and Rachel both also get a new material tied around their head. The men are dismissed by Channing and as they leave they take the bucket with them as they close the door.

Channing looks at each of us individually as he paces the room slowly. He plays with the chains disturbingly in his hands. "I'm trying to decide..." He says lowly. "...who I should bless with this next thing I want to do. I'm having a hard time choosing between the four of you." He scans me quickly before chuckling. "Okay, I'm trying to decide between the three of you since I can't really move Britney." He looks at Michael mischievously before smirking and pulling Rachel up by her arm. She cries as Michael shouts incoherent words. He turns her figure towards me and I watch powerlessly. "I'll kill you husband if you resist, you got that?" She nods without hesitation. He begins to wrap the chains around her body, I see oversized padlocks placed on certain areas to keep them on. What has me curious is when he wraps a chain around the both of her ankles, binding her feet together. The last chain has a very excessive amount escaping from behind, but he leaves it be for some reason. With the last padlock put on, he stands up behind her and smirks at me. "Watch." He takes out a pocketknife from the pocket of his jacket and Rachel flinches when he clicks it open. He brings the knife to her neck and I feel guilt beginning to flood into my body. Is he going to slit her throat in front of me? With one simple motion he cuts her. I'm confused until I see blood escape the cut at a vast pace. It spills over Rachel's clothes and she groans. Suddenly he places the black bag over her head and tightens the end. I hear her struggle to scream. What the hell is he doing to her? "Pay very close attention." He tells me.