The Day I Became a Serial Killer

Chapter 25: Coma

The bag still on my head, I was shoved into the back of a vehicle. I could breathe a bit better, but not all better. My hands were tied behind my back, and the trunk slammed down. It was pitch-black. I was helpless. I didn't know what to do at this point. At least I knew, that if I ever got out of here, I'd know who to go for.

The car hit a few bumps, hitting my head on the roof of the trunk. For what would be a thirty-minute drive would seem like a year in that dark space.

The trunk opened after what seemed like an eternity. They pulled the bag over my head, and there he was. The sunlight nearly blinding me as I squinted my eyes, I was hauled out the trunk.

He pushed me forward, "get a move on." We were in an isolated forest with no sign of civilization anywhere, other than the tweets that came from the birds, which would be silenced soon enough.

He sat me in a chair, and cut the rope from my wrists, only to tie me to the chair. It was a wooden, rustic looking chair that felt like it didn't have much left in it. Like the legs on it would snap at any point. The seat of the chair was stained with dry blood, so I knew I wasn't the first to sit in this chair.

He looked me in the face. "I would have waited for you here, as I do most the people that end up in the seat you're sitting in, but I know you. You're no one to play with, so I had to bring you here myself. With the assistance of these men here, of course.

It was the gang. The ones I'd borrowed money from. The man speaking to me had taken Little Man's place when I killed him.

"Why am I here?" I asked.

"You know why you're here, little girl. You owe us money. You said you knew who'd killed Little Man, and in exchange for the fucker's name, we'd give you ten thousand dollars cash. Then, you took off with the cash and didn't come back. Not okay. Not fucking okay." The man said.

"What's your name?"

He chuckled, "What business is that of yours? All that matters is I know your name, Crystal Garrix. I know you're the one who's been killing those people. They finally caught you, just so you could end up here. What a shame. A damn shame, that is."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Well, first things first, we need our cash back. All ten thousand fucking dollars. Not a penny missing. And the bag that came with it, too." He said. "Secondly, we need the name."

"Name?"

He jumped from his seat, punching me, sending a warm liquid from my nose. "You really think I have time for games? The name! The son of a bitch who killed Little Man. My brother." He yelled.

"Little-Man was your brother?" I asked.

"Isn't that what I just fucking said?"

I spit blood from my mouth, giving him a slight smile. "Well, you can tell your brother to rot in hell. Just like you. And your little henchmen."

The man looked at one of his men and nodded. He stepped in front of me. He was at least seven feet tall. The biggest person I'd ever seen. He was as wide as a house and held a machete with a red handle in his sweaty palms.

"You're lucky I'm being gentle. You being a little girl don't change a damn thing." He said. "Now, the name?"

"You want to know who killed your midget brother?" I asked as he grew impatient. "Crystal Garrix did it."

The large man laid the machete on my cheek, and slowly lowered his hand to my face as I tried to hold in the screams. Aside from killing people, and seeing my father get shot, this was the most physical pain I'd ever felt. My cheek squirted blood as one of his men violently wrapped a dirty bandage around my face.