dead pulse

prologue

Darkness...

"Don't kill me..." She pleaded, in a hoarse whisper.

The woman's wrists were bound tightly behind her back, and her ankles tied to the front legs of the chair with a coarse rope, which bit into her flesh. She tested the rope, trying to pull her legs away from the metal chair legs, but with a small groan, let them fall again. All this seemed to do was make the ropes tighten, and cut into her legs more. She could almost feel the heavy despair in her chest grow larger, weighing her down, like a stone resting upon her heart. Something warm was trickling down her bare feet, and over her bound hands. She didn't need to see it to know it was blood.

"I know you're there!" she shouted, though knowing full well that the mask of false bravado in her voice was completely wrecked by the quavering of it. "Fucking asshole!"

Then she heard it.

The sound she had been fearing.

Footsteps. pacing, walking around her. Even, slow steps.

So there was someone. But she couldn't see who the footsteps belonged to. Every time the footsteps grew near, she shrunk back into her seat, holding her breath. Just the footsteps alone told her all she needed to know. The careful, well timed footfalls, clicking softly on what sounded like concrete. She recognised the sound.  The storage room in the basement of the hotel had concrete floors. She knew she wasn't there though, by the echo from the shoes. The basement of the hotel was divided into four small storage rooms. Stacked high with shelves. She bit her lip painfully, squeezing her eyes shut. Her heart picked up pace, and the blood roared in her ears. She wasn't under the hotel. But she had a feeling she knew where she was.  And if she was, there was a large chance that she was going to die.

"Why am I here?" She cried, feeling the emotion seep into her voice, but unable to stop it.

The silence lingered, as, well, whoever it was, circled her. She shuddered. Like a predator, circling it's prey. Choosing when to strike. She could almost see the smirk, on an unknown face, stretching wide, like the Cheshire cat.  Exposing rows of malevolent, pointy teeth. Stupid.

Click, click, click, click.

The footsteps for closer still, closing in on her. She felt eyes sizing her up.

"Don't kill me" She cried again, this time louder. It sounded stupid. She sounded stupid. But her words must have had some effect, as the footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

She waited, shuffling slightly in the uncomfortable chair. Now the warm liquid seemed to be streaming down her face. She tried to lift a hand up, but was painfully reminded that it was bound when it was wrenched back with a force matching her own, cutting through her skin. There was a small, and yet consuming silence. And then they spoke.

"I won't kill you. As long as you don't look at me." The voice answered, simply.

What the fuck? She couldn't see anything, let alone this bastard who was holding her hostage.

He almost seemed to read her mind. "Though because you're blindfolded, your chances are good"

His voice (he was a male, she had deduced) was tormenting her. His cool, simple, and yet slightly mocking voice sent a shiver of humiliation and fear down her spine. He sounded almost amused at her.

But  yet... There was an edge to it. A violent edge. And she was afraid. No  amount of false bravado could mask the fear radiating off of her, almost leaking from her pores. The warm liquid was soaking through the rough material of the blindfold,  and the salty, metallic tang of blood  was tickling her tongue.

There was a long stretch of silence.

"I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO YOU!" She yelled, rocking forward.

What was she, insane? Screaming was just increasing her chances of being killed...

But if he had the intent of killing her, why wasn't she dead yet?

He was playing with her. Why couldn't he just get it over with? Her heart was hammering in her chest, trying to break it's way out. He was playing with her. She squeezed her eyes shut again.  Waiting for it. The cold steel to slice through the flesh, fat and muscle in her neck, or, or to pry it's way through her ribcage, piercing the spongy tissue of her lung, collapsing it and rupturing vessels, in turn causing swelling on the lung. She could almost feel the red froth rising up her throat and being forced out of her mouth, choking and effectively drowning her. She had once had great dreams and aspirations of becoming a doctor. Instead, she got a shit job at an even more shit hotel, and now she was going to die.

"Why am I here!" She cried again, louder, feeling the panic bubble up in her throat. Stupid stupid STUPID.

There came no response for a few seconds.

There was dead silence, but for the slow and steady dripping noise which echoed on the concrete walls. Then there was laughter. A small bout of deep, amused laughter. Suddenly the man began to walk again, slowly and tauntingly. The woman held her breath as the swift footsteps slowly came toward her.

She cringed into her seat as he gripped the back of her chair, his hand brushing against her hair, and leaned over her shaking body. She could sense him  moving in closer to her, and suddenly caught the sharp smell of vodka. The man inhaled slowly, then exhaled through his mouth, his breath hot on her cheek.

"you... Are the pawn in this game" He  whispered.