"Get up!" Joseph barks. His voice breaks through the gloom, sweeping over me. Fear clamps down on my chest, forcing down on my rapid heart beat and aching lungs. "Hello sweetheart," Adam smiles.
My captor hovers back, lingering in the doorway. Joseph and Adam swarm over me. Joseph yanks my arms around my back, twisting them roughly.
"Here, just tie her," Adam mumbles, wrapping the rope around my wrists. A whimper curls over my tongue. Tears bead over my eyelashes, trickling down my cheeks.
"Come on. Get up!" Joseph snaps. Harshly he heaves me to my feet.
"Please...oh God please," I sob, "I'm sorry."
"Quiet!" Joseph shouts, dragging me up the stairs. My legs beat against the steps and my ankles scrape the splintery wood.
He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me up over his shoulder. Screaming I thrash against his hold.
Adam and my captor trail behind him. I kick wildly, twisting violently. I dig my nails into his shoulder. "Stop!" Joseph growls.
They haul me down the hall, carrying me into the bare room. Joseph throws me against the chair. Grunting he binds my wrists to it. Adam grips my ankle, forcing it against the chair's leg.
I squirm against the restraint of the ropes. With my free leg I kick him. He jerks back quickly. "Don't!" Joseph hisses, sliding his hand around my jaw and yanking my head back.
He forces me to stare at him, burrowing his fingers into my flesh. I spit at him, ripping out of his grasp. "Stupid girl!" he yells, slapping me across the back of my head.
Pain throbs across my head and my tangled hair falls across my face. Sucking in a frail breath I stare at the floor with wide eyes. I watch Adam tie my ankles to the chair as if I'm a wounded animal at the mercy of the hunter.
"Papá?" Nate's voice is hesitant, "What are you doing?" Gradually I lift my gaze. He and Cristina stand in the doorway, distinct amongst he sinister and merciless minds.
"Do you know the kind of punishment she'd have to endure in Hell?" my captor twirls a lock of my hair around his finger. Nate's jaw tightens and his brown eyes turn cold like stone. "This is just her punishment," the man murmurs, kissing the top of my head.
Adam hands him a bottle of gasoline. The man clamps his hand over my jaw, forcing the bones to ache. He raises the bottle to my lips. "Are you thirsty my prize?" he breathes, pouring the liquid into my mouth.
The flavour is foul inside my mouth and the gasoline sears my throat. Snapping out of his grip I double over and cough up the gasoline.
Gagging I lean as far forward as the rope will allow. The acidic liquid dribbles down my chin. Agony rips through my chest, making me choke.
"You're going to make her sick!" Nate snaps. My captor's focus flashes toward his son. His gaze is cold and cruel before turning back to me.
He tips the bottle of gasoline over my head. It gushes over my head, dripping down my neck and sliding over my chest. The fumes fill my lungs and sting my throat.
Remnants of the gasoline trickles over my skin. My t-shirt clings to my body, soaked with the liquid.
"Tell me what you've done," he says. His voice is calm, restrained by an eerie force. My voice turns to a small cry on the edge of my lips. "Come on," he breathes slipping his hand around the back of my neck, "Tell me what you've done."
A sob catches in the back of my throat and tears stream down my damp and polluted skin. "What sins have you committed?" his voice beats inside my head.
His fingers dig into my flesh. "Still don't know the answer?" he arches an eyebrow. I cower against the seat, closing my eyes as if I can make it all disappear.
"Cut her tongue out," he orders, stepping back.
Colour rapidly drains from Nate's face, "What?! Y-you can't do that!"
Adam jerks my head back sharply and Joseph hovers over me. He adjusts his grip on a silvery scalpel. Screaming wildly I thrash against the hold of the ropes.
"Don't!" Nate shouts, lashing at his father. My captor easily bundles Nate's t-shirt around his fists and hurls him against the wall.
Cristina yells foreign words, cowering against the doorframe. The sound of her begging echoes around the room. Tears glaze her dark eyes and ooze down her cheeks.
Nate struggles to break free from the man's grip. Spanish words growl through Nate's teeth, harsh threats.
Joseph's fingers clamp around my tongue. Squealing I drive my teeth into his knuckles. Joseph swiftly pulls away, "She bit me!" I spit at him, squirming awkwardly.
"Just get it over with!" my captor barks, punching Nate in the stomach. He doubles over, gasping in pain. "Nate!" I choke. Cristina's screams blend with mine, raw and terrified.
"Just give me the scalpel," Adam groans.
"Don't!" Nate pleads. My captor forces his arm across Nate's neck, slowly strangling him.
"She's no different from the others," he growls.
He shoves him toward me. "Let him do it," the man orders. Nate shakes his head, "I-I can't."
"She's no different from the others," my captor repeats.
Joseph forces the scalpel into Nate's hand. "Come on then boy," Joseph mumbles, stepping back.
Nate leans over me, gently curling his fingers around my jaw. His dark eyes flicker over the length of my beaten body. "I-I can hold her," Nate swallows his words.
"Fine," Adam holds his hands up in surrender.
I can feel the unnatural heat of Nate's palm against the hollow of my neck. It's clammy with a frighteningly high fever. I can feel his pulse beating against mine. It's rapid and disorientated.
"Do it quickly," I cry softly.
"Have you seen a seizure before?" Nate's rasps.
"W-what?" I stammer.
"I missed my medication," he whispers.
The scalpel slips from his hand, tumbling over my lap. I watch Nate collapse and slam against the floor. The three men swoop over him, blocking my view.
Cristina hesitates before scrambling over to me. Trembling she curls her hand around the scalpel. She holds a delicate finger to her lips.
She snaps through the rope and helps me to my feet. Tugging on my hand she coaxes me out of the room. She leads me down the hall and shoves open the bathroom door, letting me collapse onto the floor.
Sobbing quietly she slams the door shut, flicking the lock down. "Ella?" her voice is shaky, thick with a Spanish accent. Cowering on the tiled floor I nod.
Drawing in a deep breath she kneels down in front of me, folding her hands on her lap. "Herido?" she asks, gently brushing my hair back from my face, "Um...hurt?" I shake my head slowly.
She glances down at the gasoline clinging to her finger tips. Cristina wraps her arms around my shoulders, tenderly smoothing her hand over my hair.
Like small children we cower inside the bathroom, held in the comfort of each other's embrace. The shouting is muffled by the thick door, along with Nate's slight groans of pain.
"N-Nate," I whimper.
"Shh," Cristina chokes.
"He's...he's hurting him," my voice is frail. It echoes inside the tiled room.
"Trajo a la incautación de." She comforts me with foreign words like a mother, gentle and soothing. Tears trickle down my cheeks, carving through the gasoline.
I bow my head against her shoulder. We huddle together and attempt to block out the violence that has consumed our lives like a rabid dog driven by vicious hunger. They bite through our flesh before swallowing us, leaving us in darkness.
YOU ARE READING
Salvation
Teen FictionShe's his prize, his beautiful, flawless prize. She's his trophy, a girl he stole from the world. He holds her captive in the harsh shadows of the basement and tortures her. He loves her, charishes her every breath and lives off her every scream. He...
