The Mindf*ck Series

Chapter 14

𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵.
- 𝘈𝘭𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘌𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘪𝘯

𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗔

“𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥. 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.”

The song flows through the underground cellar, and I walk toward the side as Lawrence slowly rouses from his unconscious state. I watch with rapt fascination from the shadows as a myriad of emotions flicker across his face in sequence.

Confusion. Surprise. Recognition. And my favorite—panic.

He struggles against the chains that are holding his hands and arms out wide, keeping him bound and suspended midair. It’s a lovely position to die in. It also leaves you feeling weak and defenseless to be spread out and immobile.

I should know.

The song changes, and “Ring Around the Rosy” starts playing in that creepy kid voice it’s in. I love fucking with their heads.

“Who the fuck are you!?” he shouts, struggling as I remain tucked in the dark corner. The light overhead casts a circular glow beneath it, illuminating him and the chains dangling loosely in front of him as I await our second prisoner’s arrival.

As soon as I got him to my car, I slammed his head into the side door
twice, making sure he was out cold before tossing his heavy ass into my car. He’s solid muscle, and I didn’t plan on him being quite so heavy as dead weight.

The struggle was worth it.

The bruises are forming nicely around his eyes and forehead. I’m sure the concussion kept him out longer than a usual cold-cock.

“Where are you? Where the fuck am I?” he barks, struggling in vain, making the chains rattle their unrelenting warning.

He jerks his head from side to side, trying to see something other than the light above him. It’s just four stone walls in a semi-large square of a cellar. It’s every creepy nightmare there is.

I should have started finding creepier places to kill them long ago, because I love the way his body is seizing in terror just from the surroundings.

I’m dressed in all black now. The red lipstick is gone, along with the blonde wig I was donning. The heels have been traded in for boots—the men’s boots I wear with the special toe-piece Jake designed for me to leave behind heel-to-toe impressions.

My backpack isn’t on, but it’s not necessary for this part, since there’s no dirt around. The stone floor under my feet will soon be painted with two shades of red. Then I’ll paint all four walls.