Not Again

Chapter Eleven - 'Get. In'

Lucy

Finally, I find what seems to be a door. With all my remaining strength, I yank it open with my right arm, since I've practically lost function in my left because of the pain caused by the wound.

I'm wearing my torn t-shirt and pants, as limp out the door, looking around outside for anyone who could help me. Time is limited as he is going to gain consciousness and find me if I can't get away.

I slowly limp away from the building, and manage to make it across the road to an old payphone. Maybe I could call the station. Maybe they'd find me after all!

My eyes fill with hope. I should know better than to get my hopes up, but its hard not to, I have a chance to survive.

Quickly, I get to work dialling 911. As I raise my arm to press call, I feel a cold hand grip my neck.

Damn it. He's found me.

'Oh Lucy. I thought you would've known better than to try running away.'

He pushes me to the ground. It doesn't take much force to knock me over as I've barely got any energy at the moment. He grabs me by the leg and drags me across the road. I feel as each pebble scrapes my skin, opening new cuts all over my body.

'OW OW OWWW' I scream at the top of my lungs, hoping to catch someone's attention, but I'm unsuccessful, and that metal door close once more.

'What am I to do with you? Clearly I can't trust you to just enjoy the fun activities I had lined up for us, so I guess we can jump slightly ahead, forget the schedule.'

He walks over towards the back of the room, next to the middle shelf of barrels, and drops me to the floor before he pries open a rusty red one.

'Doesn't this look lovely? Quite an upgrade from the one Caleb gave you I'll say! More high tech as well!'

How on earth could a barrel be more high tech than another, especially one that as rusty and beaten up as this one?

'I've filtered the air in it so that theres more carbon dioxide than oxygen in there. It'll probably only last you an hour at most. Let's see your boyfriend save you now.'

He laughs tauntingly, in an attempt to get under my skin. In all honesty it worked, but still, I can't let him see that.

'Welp I suppose its time. Get in the barrel Lucy.'

He edges closer towards me as he prods me in the back with the same piece of metal I used to knock him out. My stomach disagrees with the the thought of climbing into a barrel, so I throw up again, clutching my tattoo as I watch the blood splat to the floor once again.

'Im waiting.' His voice is growing more and more impatient as he stands there.

I can't get in it. I can't do that again.

'Get. In.'

But if I don't he'll kill me himself. Or worse. He'll do the thing again.

It's death out here, and life in there. For an hour longer at least.

I'll have a chance.

He steps towards me, prodding me in the same spot on my back again. By now he's cut the skin in that area, and I can feel it start to bleed.

I can't get in there.

I can't.

All I can hear is the sound of my hearteat, thudding at my ears as I feel blood rush to my head. I have to do it. I have to.

I stretch out my shaky arms to the barrel, gripping onto the edges and hoisting myself up and into it.

Here goes nothing.

'Any last words?'

He clutches the lid and holds it above the barrel, ready to shut it as soon as I'm finished.

'Yeah. Your just as much of an idiot as Caleb was. You're going to see him soon enough.'

'Yeah, I don't think so.'

He smirks before he slams the lid down. The sounds of tightening locks echoes inside the barrel. I look up, and this time there are no cameras. It's just me, alone in a barrel again.

Come on Tim, I could really use some saving now.

I close my eyes for a bit as I try to ignore the throbbing headache that's just started. I just have to breathe. I mean, I've done this before, I'm practically a professional at surviving being suffocated in an oil barrel. I just need to do this again, hopefully for the last time. I think I'm over being kidnapped by serial killers.

The barrel's a lot smaller than the other one, but this time, there aren't bloody sarks all over it. That's something I guess. I close my eyes. I'm starting to feel lightheaded, and my throat feels like a desert. There's a feeling that I need to throw up lingering in the back of my throat, but I have to resist it, I can't afford to loose any more blood, but my stomach really doesn't care. I lean against the back of the barrel

please Tim, please.

I have nothing to do but listen to the faint mumbling of the outside world

'Finally, she's dead.'

It's David. He's laughing as he walks farther and farther away from me.

'I told you Caleb, I promised I would avenge your death, and I did. I finished your work for you, finished what you started. Am I finally good enough for you big brother?'

I knew it. He's just avenging his big brother, but why this way. I look down at myself. I get the barrel, but not the other part. I can feel my eyes get watery as I think about it.

Why this.

Why me.

Time just goes on and on, honestly I don't know how long I've been here, but it feels like an eternity.

My breaths are becoming more shallow and my pulse is slowing. That's not good. My sight has gone blurry, and I'm seeing those wierd flying saucer shaped colors when I move my eyes. My headache got worse and so did lightheadedness, but all I can do is sit here, helpless. My energy's gone, I can't even raise my finger now. I know this is the end.

A tear rolls down my cheek. I feel it increasingly become more and more hard to breathe .

Why did I have to answer the door? I should've just stayed in bed! Why did I just trust him? Im so stupi-

I stop myself, and take one final breath.

This is it.

'I love you Tim' Those are the last words I manage to squeeze out, before the oxygen runs out, and everything goes black.