Traffic

Chapter Fifteen

"A Jane Doe was brought into hospital last week and as of yesterday, neither the police nor the doctors knew of her identity. She was a seemingly unimportant comatose patient, so there was no need to rush any DNA tests on either end. Unfortunately, that girl was kidnapped from her hospital room late last night and has not been seen since. Though the police have no suspects at this time, they are working on—wait, this just in, the girl has been identified as a Kelly Virginia. She is reported to have been kidnapped from a friend's party around a year ago and has been missing ever since. If anyone sees this girl, please contact the authorities immediately."

The TV was shut off before the newscaster could continue further on Kelly's disappearance. Kelly sat in a chair, mouth gagged and hands and feet tied, unable to control anything or yell for help. This is yet another of the many ways one can feel trapped. First, it was in her comatose state, but this seemed worse to Kelly because she was more aware of what was going on around her.

She watched his every move and broke out in cold sweats when he was out of her sight. He didn't interact much with her, besides sitting and staring at her on occasion.

After the broadcast aired, however, he seemed very chatty.

"So, you've been gone a year. How do you feel about that?"

Kelly couldn't answer because of the gag in her mouth, but doubted she would have if it were removed.

"Paul double crossed me. He kept you, sold you for more than I could offer. He paid dearly for that."

Kelly's eyes widened at the thought of what could have happened to Paul. Though he was the one who initially kidnapped, her, she felt pity for him for the sole reason that he had treated her the best of all her masters.

"So you haven't heard?" the man continued, "One would think after spending so much time with Paul, you would keep in touch. No matter. All you need to know is he suffered dearly. He won't be doing any favors to anyone any time soon. It would, after all, be hard to kidnap a girl if you can't see them."

Kelly's eyes stung with tears, but she forced herself to hold them back, telling herself he was a serial kidnapper and deserved whatever he got. Still, the horror of the situation and the violence of the man standing before her didn't surpass her.

"No matter. I have you now. I will get my revenge now and there is no one to stop me. Not you, not your damned mother, or that son of ours: Trace or whatever the hell she decided to name him. I never cared about him. It was always about the girls for me. Then came sweet, dear Francine. She was my pride and joy. I wanted her so badly from the day she was born."

Kelly was fourteen. Naïve, innocent, but defiled. Her being defiled didn't mean she was any less innocent as to the way the world works, especially for psychopaths like her father, who stood before her, talking trash about the family she loved and missed with every passing moment.

"She only grew more beautiful," Kelly's father continued, "When she turned thirteen, I couldn't stand the wait any longer. I had held off long enough, you see. I went to bars and had my way with some prostitutes, but none was better than Francine. She was special to me."

Kelly practically gagged at the revolting thought of what the man before her might say next.

"She was gifted, as you are, with large breasts and a petite figure. Fertile too. Like your mother. It didn't take long to get her pregnant. Unfortunately, after your mother told me she was pregnant too, I got pissed. They would know something was wrong. I couldn't keep Francine quiet after you were both born because they would see that you two looked alike, they would know that Francine wasn't raped by a stranger, but that she and I had shared passionate love making as well as her own mother which resulted in the pregnancies. The neighbors would talk, I would lose my reputation and my job. I would be registered as a sex offender. I couldn't let that happen."

Kelly couldn't hold back her tears any longer. They flowed, clouding her eyes and dripping steadily down her cheeks.

"That's why I needed you gone. Don't you see? We could have faked living with having Francine being 'raped,' but with you too, it just wouldn't work. I tried to get rid of you, Kelly. I tried so hard, but your mother, damn her. She took the kids and ran. All four of you. I was left to the mercy of the police. Lucky for me, I got out."

Kelly tried to talk through the fabric in her mouth, but couldn't form words.

"I bet you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this."

Kelly nodded, tears falling down her cheeks and sobs and muffled screams escaping her lips as she tried to make sense of it all.

"Don't you understand?" Kelly's father said, grabbing her cheeks in his hand, "I need to get rid of you. I need you to feel the emotional and mental suffering I have endured, knowing that I lost everything because of you. If you hadn't been born, I would be living happily with Trace, Francine, Kyle, and my wife. Maybe I'd have had more by now, who knows? All I know is that I need you to feel my pain. Which is why I've brought you here."

Kelly watched in horror as her father walked across the room to where a glass jar had been laying. He put on a pair of work gloves and carefully lifted the jar by its handle to carry over to Kelly.

"Do you see this?"

Kelly looked into the jar, seeing a clear, bubbling liquid.

"This is your future," her father said, an evil smile spreading across his features. He replaced the jar and went to another table, checking on a blue-ish liquid that was sitting with coils and a large battery next to it before leaving Kelly to sob, cry, and fight to free herself of the bonds that tied her.

Within minutes, he was back, carrying a pair of scissors and more rope. Kelly fought him as he untied her, forcing her to lay on a long table he had set up just out of where her line of vision had fallen when she was tied to the chair. She lay, arms tied to two legs of the table, and legs tied to the other two. There, she felt vulnerable and terrified for her very life.

He didn't plan on killing her, however, which Kelly soon found out. As soon as he began to cut her pant leg, removing her pants one piece at a time, she began to put the pieces together. She looked from her cut up pants to the jar to her father and cried out, yanking with all her might at the ropes that bound her to that table. Nothing worked. She remained tied firmly and unable to do anything about what was about to happen to her.

Kelly had been through a lot. Rape, kidnapping, prostitution, and being beaten and starved by various masters, finally resulting in physically attacking Hank, but nothing compared to what she was about to go through.

"Do you want to know a secret, Kelly? This isn't the first time I've done this, but I enjoy it every time."

With an evil, loud laugh, he tipped the jar just enough so the liquid started to pour out. Words, emotions nor decibels have been discovered that could describe the pain Kelly felt and the scream she emitted when the burning acid came in contact with her exposed skin. If one were watching, they would think it was a plastic toy someone had dropped into a fire the way her skin bubbled, then tore, oozing puss and blood. She clenched her fists so tightly, her fingernails cut skin, causing her hands to bleed.

Next, it was her throat. She yelledso loudly and so much that her voice wasn't hesitant to leave her. When herfather finally left the room, after emptying the pot onto Kelly's sensitiveskin, she was left with melting flesh, and silent screams. Death would be amercy compared to the agony she was in; fate almost obliged, but for somereason, refused to cut that final tie.ce-h�wS}'��