Complicated

Chapter Fifty Three: The Killing Ground

I can't escape this hell
So many times I've tried
But I'm still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself

Three Days Grace – Animal I Have Become

Waking up had never been such a bizarre and painful experience before for Don. The side of his face hurt like a bitch. The explosive ache from his left temple down along his cheek bone was the first thing his clouded mind registered. It felt like he had been pistol whipped.

The next was the abnormal darkness. Don couldn't see a damn thing even with his eyes open, for a moment he thought the power must have gone out in their street until he realized he could hear the roar of waves nearby. He didn't understand the noise, it was out of context in his mind. His neck was stiff, his chin resting on his chest.

There was something covering his face. He could feel material scratching against his skin, taste it in his mouth pressing against his nose as he inhaled. There was a familiar stench in the air, it was on his tongue and at the back of his throat filling him with a sense of dread. Blood, the kind that was old and had seeped into the walls of the room around him. The tang of copper was still there present in the stale air.

The joints in Don's shoulders were killing him. He wrenched his wrists only to find that they were secured tightly behind his back. The thin plastic band dug into the skin of his wrists rubbing the flesh raw. Don jerked forward in his metal chair, testing his restraints as he twisted and writhed against the bonds with no give. He wasn't used to feeling helpless, panic was not a feeling he was accustomed to but he knew when his heart rate began to accelerate and his breathing became rapid that he was losing control.

Shit, it was all coming back to him now. Sitting in his SUV at the lights, the Taser, the back of the van and finally his would be execution. Don had been so sure he was going to die. He had been prepared and ready and now he understood what this was really about. He hadn't given his abductor what he wanted. He hadn't begged or bargained for his life he had been dignified and silent which led his rational side to believe that death wasn't one of his options at this point.

The fact he was still alive meant that his abductor wanted something from him and Don already knew that it was something he would never allow himself to give. Everything was about to take a turn for the more sinister.

The hood was torn from his head, leaving him completely blinded by the sudden bright light. His eyes were stinging so badly they were almost watering. He blinked quickly trying to clear the black spots that were dancing in his vision.

"You know I always feel that you can learn the measure of a man by how he takes his pain." Maplin told him, his booming voice piercing Don's ears like a freight train.

The other man was standing in front of him, his grizzled features studying Don intently as he gripped the hood tightly in his fist. He had cleaned up since Don has last saw him, his appearance was more neater and defined. All the better to lure fresh victims, he thought as Maplin's empty soulless eyes bored into him.

Don's gaze was already straying taking in the details of his surroundings and cataloguing them for further use. High ceiling with steel rafters, large vacuous empty space lined with concrete pillars clearly an empty warehouse down by the dockland somewhere from the sound of water. From the scent of death in the air, he thought an abandoned abattoir maybe. Maplin was the kind of sick fuck that would get a raise out of that.

His chair was made of unrelenting metal and bolted to the floor. Although that was clearly a DIY job, a decent one he was forced to admit. There was a sturdy metal work bench set up along the wall in front of him, that had obviously come with the place, along with the nasty looking guillotine attached to the end.