Not Again

Chapter Seven - 'Nice Tattoo'

Lucy

My head is killing me, and my ears are still ringing. I tried to turn my head, to see where I was but it feels as if it is being weighed down by the heaviest thing imaginable. My stomachs churning and I feel like I'm about to throw up, but I can't.
Slowly, the feeling returns to my body and I groan out in pain. He shot me on the left side of my abdomen, above my DOD tattoo, and it hurts.

I muscle all my strength into lifting my head, and I look down towards the wound. There it is. A massive bloody bandage, covering the surface of my skin.

Why would he shoot me and then bandage me up?

I groan out in pain once more. I don't know how much longer I can take this.

'Finally, your awake.' A male voice laughs.

'You've had quite the nap Lucy.' He continued.

'Sorry about the gunshot. I know my way around an operating table though. Im afraid im out of anaesthesia. We're going to have to wing it.'

What does he mean by that. All the possibilities are flashing before my eyes. Then it hits me. He's going to operate on me.

He touches a hand to my wound and presses down on it. I scream out in pain, as it's all I seem to be able to do. I try to raise my arm but he's zip tied me to the hospital style bed. Every arm and leg is attached, so all I can do is shut my eyes and pray that he stops.

He removes his hand and I let out a sigh of relief. He's done torturing me. I hope.

The next thing I know, I feel a peeling sensation where the gunshot is. I put all my energy into raising my head again, and I look down to see that he's peeling off the bandages he wrapped. The drying blood had stuck it so my skin, so now as he removes it, I can feel it all. This is the one time I wish I was passed out.

I can feel that as he removes the bandage from the hole, the blood starts to ooze out again.

'Wha- what are you doing?'

Those are the only words I manage to squeeze out, but honestly they sound more like a drunken mumble.

He laughed for a bit before finally deciding to give me an answer

'Why, I'm extracting the bullet silly. I can't have you dying of a gun wound!'

Those words are now echoing in my mind. He's going to extract the bullet, that he put in me to begin with.

'Wh- why'

Again, a drunk sounding mumble escapes from my lips.

'Now that's a question for later.'

He places two fingers onto my left abdomen, one above the gunshot wound, and one below before pressing down as hard as he can.

Again I scream out in pain. It's like he's enjoying himself, which given the fact that he's most likely a psychopath kidnapper, he probably it.

He raises a scalpel to my abdomen, and attempts to scoop out the bullet. My breathing quickens as the pain gets worse and worse. He misses the bullet and makes the wound bigger.

Once again I cry out in pain. Never in my life have I felt this much pain in one place. It's just too much.

Again, my ears start to pick up that piercing ringing and my vision goes blurry. I know I'm about to pass out. And for once, I'm glad.

*TIME JUMP*

The ringing is finally gone. The room feels different. Its hot, and i don't think I'm lying down. It feels more like I'm sitting. My eyes slowly pry open, but it's all blurry. I can make some things out. It looks like a big, dark room. There are some long, tall things towards the back of the room. Shelves. There are things on the shelves, but it's  still too blurry for me to make out what it is. My eyes slowly pry open and shut and my vision clears. I look down. I'm now tied to a chair. Great.

I take a deep breath and look around. David is nowhere to be seen. I try to move my arm, and untie myself from the chair like I learned to do at UC school, but I still can't move my arms. All I can do for the moment is look.

I lift my neck back up and stare to the large shelves in the distance. My visions still kind of cloudy, so I squint to try and make out what those objects on the shelves are.

Then I realise.

My blood turns cold.

There they are on the shelves.

Oil barrels.
Tens and hundreds of oil barrels.

I feel a tear run down my cheek, before I wince as it falls into a cut I didn't even know I had. Slowly, I start to get the feeling and movement in my body back. There's a burning pain next to my stomach. The gunshot wound.

How could I forget about it?

I gaze down at it and see that my t-shirt is ripped and missing a piece around it. I guess he got sick of rolling it back up so he ripped that section of it off completely.

I can see that where the bullet hole was, is a large, infected looking, loosely stitched wound. It looks a lot bigger than I remember. He really messed it up in his makeshift surgery.

It's going to scar.

I guess that won't matter if I'm dead.

I just look down at it, trying to muscle through the pain, but then my eyes slip down. Down to my DOD tattoo.

It's all just too much for me. Being kidnapped again. Being tied to a chair the same way. The pain. My tattoo. I can't think straight. My thoughts are all over the place. I have to hold myself together. I can't fall apart.

That will get me killed. At least sooner than he currently plans to.

*slam*

I hear the door slam shut behind me, and footsteps approaching my chair.

'Nice tattoo. Caleb really outdid himself!'

My eyes widen at the mention of Caleb.

How does he know.

'Sorry, was that insensitive?'

'Why should I answer you? Its not like you give a shit!' I hiss.

'So that's how its going to be.' he chuckles.

'WHO EVEN ARE YOU?' I snap back at him

'Your names not really David is it?'

'Oh no, no' he laughs tauntingly before he continues.

'My name is David. I guess at this point in time i owe you my full name. Its David. David Wright.'

Oh shit.

My heart stops.