THE VICKERS

Prologue

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" Dahlia Vicker yelled at the man who had bound her hands and feet to the wooden chair. Her heart pounded heavily against her rib cage, threatening to rip through it.

Though she was blindfolded, she could still smell the scent of dirt and tobacco he wore so boldly. It was intertwined with a mildewy odour coasting through the air, but she knew he was still in the room.

"Let me go!" she screamed.  Her grating voice echoed off the walls. She had been screaming for what felt like hours since they'd grabbed her. That's all she could do for now. She screamed again hoping someone would hear her.

"Help!"

She heard nothing more than the shuffle of his feet. Then a heavy punch landed on her right cheek, causing her head to whip in the opposite direction. The stinging pain burned through her skin. She then heard a sadistic laugh from her left. She shook her head and stretched her jaw, trying to hide the pain she was feeling. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Her head was now pounding. Her hands strained against the handcuffs digging into her wrists. Who are these people? Why are they doing this to me? These were the only thoughts she had before the blindfold was ripped from her eyes and it slid to around her neck. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the sudden intense light.

She glanced around quickly and noticed that the room was bare, except for her chair, and two men standing on either side of her. The man to her left stood firmly with his brawny arms folded across his beefy chest. The other she recognized only from the strong tobacco smell that wafted and swirled around her like smoke from a bonfire. His stomach hung over his hips, and his bottom lip drooped as if it was weighed down by the soon to be lit spliff dangling from it. 

"What do you want?" she barked, demanding an answer. She'd never seen them before, and given the people she hung out with, she probably knew all the gangsters in the city. None of them responded. They just stood there like guard dogs. 

"You fucking shit! Let me go!" she began to wrestle the cuffs on her hands. The man on the left laughed again. He found her struggle amusing. 

"When I get out of these, I'm gonna fucking kill you!" 

"Good luck with that, Princess." He patted her on the head, and she bit back with the ferocity of a wild dog. His reflexes were swift and he narrowly escaped her teeth. 

 The heavy metal door in the corner of the room swung open and clanged against the wall. Another man in an all-black suit stepped in the room; his delicate snakeskin shoes tapped against the concrete floor, echoing as he walked. He was a tower over her, then crouched until they were at eye-level. 

The hairs on her arms and legs stood at attention. She wasn't sure if it was because of him, or the chilly night breeze, that drifted through the tiny open window to her right. She would have to squeeze through it when she was going to escape. 

"What do you want from me?" She knew by the way he was dressed that he was the man in charge of her abduction. 

Though his eyes were kept secret by dark glasses, she could still see the wrinkles at his eyes when his face was parted by a devilish smile. It turned into a quiet laugh, that exposed crooked teeth. They looked like they were stained by urine. His face was disfigured by burn marks carved into his jaw. They stretched and contracted with every word he spoke. 

"My dear Dahlia, I want to break you, the way you broke me."