What They Deserve

Prologue

She could feel the cool dampness against her naked skin and smell the stench of standing water. Scattered drips echoed around the room and the occasional creak of a door being opened or closed signaled his return. The doors sounded like they were made of heavy metal; a foreboding sound. It was enough to excite her anxiety. How long will he stay? What kind of torture does he have in store? Will he kill me and end this misery?
          
It didn't help that he never came into that room from the same direction. If there wasn't an intense fear of what was going to happen, she might have questioned how many doors led to her.
          
A shiver coursed through her body and she wondered for the thousandth time when he'd just kill her. Every time he came, he had a new way to make her wish that she was dead. 
          
She tried to stand on her tiptoes to relieve the pressure on her bound wrists, to ease the ache in her shoulders. But her toes and feet cramped and her legs were weak. Her breaths coming in quick pants, she hung, head bent down, and tried not to dwell on the pain. 
          
He had been keeping her blindfolded since he'd abducted her, however long ago that had been. It was hard to keep track of time when the world was always dark. 
          
She shuddered as she remembered the moment. Her senior prom. He'd taken her away from her home and her parents, in the middle of the time of her life.
          
Sometimes, he came within minutes of his last visit. Other times, it seemed like days.
          
Aside from the weakness and hurt she felt, she was hungry, thirsty, and so exhausted; physically and mentally. Her mind was racing in twenty different directions as she tried to figure out why he was doing this to her.
          
He had said that she deserved this punishment for the way she treated men, the way she teased them, and led them on. But that was absurd. Would anyone in their right mind abduct someone just because they thought they were being teased and led on? 
          
She scoffed at herself with that thought. Of course, he wasn't in his right mind. He was a psychopath. 
          
But, there was this one guy she was friends with. He was fun to flirt with, but nothing more. He was a geek, had a spattering of zits, and was socially awkward. Had he thought that she was leading him on all this time? Was it possible that he was the one doing this to her? 
          
A whole new feeling of dread coursed through her. He was that kid. How could he even think of doing something like this to a friend? He was such a nice guy; so quiet and caring. Was it possible he could do something this horrendous?
          
Bile rose up to her throat, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Her breathing became heavy as she began twisting her head around as if she could find him, despite the blackness all around her. 
          
Was he there now? Was her abductor and torturer indeed the so-called friend? Or was it some other crazy person? How much longer was she going to have to endure this? How much longer could she?
          
In the middle of her panic attack, she heard the faint creak of a door. Her body went rigid and she began taking short, rapid breaths. After a few seconds, she began to twist her head in every direction, more frantic than before.
          
Another door opened and closed. 
          
Another shock of panic spread through her and she began to hope she'd have a heart attack and it would all end right there.
          
The final door opened and closed, but she couldn't hear his footsteps. 
          
Her chest began to burn and she realized that she was holding her breath. 
          
It seemed like hours passed before he allowed her to know where he was. 
          
She howled in pain as she felt her skin burn. Something that felt like a curling iron, however much larger, pressed against the top of her right buttock. Her body bucked away from the source of torment, causing her to scrape her toes against the rough ground. The aroma of charred flesh invaded her nostrils, making her stomach churn.
          
Trying to cause him any kind of damage possible, she kicked her leg as far back as she could. Meeting no resistance, she let her leg fall back into place, taking more skin off of her tiptoes. After she was still, the searing hot affliction pierced the bottom of her left buttock. 
          
Tears streamed down her face as she cried out. She arched her back, trying once again to escape the excruciating pain, but it followed her as he pushed harder, almost as if he were trying to embed the object into her body.
          
The pressure dissipated, but the fire remained. A clang echoed through the room as he tossed a battery-operated branding iron aside.
          
She cried for him to stop, to just leave her alone. Harsh sobs caused her whole body to shake, rubbing her wrists against their binds, drawing blood.
          
Nothing happened for some time. Enough time for her cries to quiet down to soft whimpers. Enough time for her to begin to wonder where he was now.
          
"Why?" All she could manage was a weak squeak. 
          
Her question went unanswered. The only sound that could be heard was her unsteady breathing and the dripping water.
          
"WHY?" She found her voice and yelled it at him. A thousand needles pierced her throat, her tears now born out of frustration.
          
"You know why." His voice, full of malice, was low and smooth. 
          
To no avail, she listened hard, trying to figure out if he was the so-called friend. He didn't sound like him and he spoke much slower. But even through her exhaustion, she realized that he could have just been disguising his voice and speaking at an unhurried pace. 
          
"I...you're...who are you?"
          
"Do you really think that's going to make a difference? Do you really think you'll get out of here alive if you know who I am?"
           
Her skin prickled as her blood turned to ice. Her breathing became raspy as she struggled to drag air into her lungs.
          
"It doesn't matter who I am. All that you need to know is that I'm the guy you've teased with your body and led on. And this is what girls like you deserve." His voice traveled and she realized that he was walking around her.
          
With a shock of adrenaline, she began kicking, screaming in anger and frustration, hoping her kicks would connect somewhere on his body.
          
He must have known that she'd try. He waited for her to tire from the short bout of energy before he smacked her hard across the face, the sound reverberating through the room.
          
She was too tired to register the sting of pain. "Then just kill me already." 
          
"What?" His mocking tone matched the unseen glare he gave her.
          
"You're going to kill me anyway. You just said I'm not getting out of here alive." It came out as more of a whine rather than a statement. 
          
He grunted his agreement. "You're absolutely right. But here you hang, thinking it'll be quick and easy." There was a long pause. He enjoyed toying with her, making her guess and wonder, letting the fear build inside her. "That's where you're wrong."
          
A fresh wave of dread coursed through her body. How did he plan on killing her? Torturing her to death? More of this or worse, until she took her last breath?
          
"Then just tell me who you are. I want to know who my murderer is." She whispered, ready to die.
          
Taking advantage of her defenses being down, he stepped forward.
          
He was almost gentle as he stuffed something into her mouth and then she felt something sticky cross her cheeks and wrap around her head. She realized that he was taping the gag in place.
          
There was silence before she heard the creak of the door open. But it didn't close right away. 
          
He spoke in a soft voice, just above a whisper, fulfilling her last request before leaving her in the dank room forever.