The Psychopath's Prisoner

Chapter 48

With trembling hands, Cheyenne slowly moved to open the door. Her heart was racing and her breathing became more labored.

She cautiously opened the door a crack and peaked her head out. No one seemed to be around, but she knew he was still there, probably hiding in the shadows waiting for her to come out of her hiding place. She emerged from the basement and a shiver ran down her spine. Something wasn't right.

She stepped into the kitchen, turned the flashlight on and looked around. She reached the doorway to the hall and looked out.

Again, nothing. It was too quiet and that made her nervous. She knew she had to risk the danger to get Michael and get out of there. She made her way down the hallway. Every sound made her jump, but she kept pushing ahead. She finally reached the living room and peered in. She saw someone in the recliner. She debated whether or not to move closer and decided to proceed cautiously. She moved closer and realized it was Michael. He was slumped over. Upon closer inspection, she was shocked. His own swords had been thrust into his shoulders and through the recliner, pinning him to the chair and his face was beaten and swollen.

"Oh my goodness! Oh Michael!" She touched his face. She knew she had to fight back. A plan was forming in her head when she heard a click.

"Cheyenne. It's so good to see you again."

She slowly looked up to see the gun pointed at her face, Cheyenne responded, "Daniel. Or should I say, Eric?"

He laughed. "So you know my real name. That's nice. At least I don't have to hide who I am any longer. Now you know. Nice meeting you, Cheyenne."

"I know that you murdered the real Daniel Schindler and a woman, Kimberly Thompson. Were you planning doing to me what you did to her and my best friend?"

"Like I would tell you after what you did to me."

"You deserved it. You did worse to me. It's just unfortunate that it's all I did," she replied coolly.

She slowly stood to face him. He motioned with the gun for her to sit. She moved to the couch and plopped down, never taking her eyes off of him.

"Turn the light on. Better yet, where's the light switch?"

"You ought to know. It's not like you haven't been here before." Moving her head, stubbornly, she asked, "Remember?"

"You're right," he said with a laugh. Backing away while still pointing the gun at her, he walked over to where the light switch was and flipped it on. "There. Much better. Now I can see you. Wow. You are so beautiful. I never dated an Indian girl before. At least, not until now."

She looked over at Michael and felt sick to her stomach. He needed medical attention-badly. There was no way Eric was going to allow that to happen. Even knowing that, she had to try.

"Why don't you let him go? Let him get medical attention. Please. I'll stay here with you."

Eric glared at her. "Why? Why do you care about him so much? Why not me?"

"You really want to know? All right. I'll tell you. You treat me like crap. You raped me, beat me, and kept me captive. He isn't ashamed to take me out in public. He cares about me. Not to mention, he isn't psychotic. Nor is he a pathetic loser."

Eric, enraged, pointed the gun at Michael. "If I kill him now, then you would be mine. All it takes is one bullet to the head." He turned the gun on her, first pointing it at her head as he moved closer, and finally, when close, to run it down her body. "Or kill you. Then no one else can have you but you are so sexy and smell so good. Sooo good. I really don't want to kill you. Don't force my hand."