Tag: flash fiction

He had called her Snow White.

No one but Drake called her that.

But Drake was dead.

Rachel was so confused. The man in her bedroom called her by the name only her husband had used but he wasn’t her husband. The man who had been in her bathroom earlier had felt like Drake but he hadn’t looked like Drake.

If this man wasn’t Drake how did he know Drake’s nickname for her?

Had Drake called her that that night?

Rachel didn’t think so but it was hard to remember.

“Open you eyes, Snow White,” the man snarled. He was close enough that she could feel his breath on his cheek. His breath was hot, and it smelled bad, she remembered that from that night.

She was afraid to comply but she was more afraid not to. She already knew what this man was capable of. She inched her eyes open and saw that there were at least half a dozen men in her room.

She couldn’t breathe.

Last time she had been saved, snatched away from death at the last minute. But who would save her this time? The man-whoever he was-that had been in her bathroom earlier appeared to be long gone.

She was on her own.

Rachel wished she had a plan.

Anything would do.

“Where is he?” the man beside her bed asked.

Where was who? She had no idea what he was talking about.

He pulled out a knife and held it up so it glimmered in the light. “Where is he?” the man repeated.

“Wh-who?” she asked.

“Your husband.”

What a stupid question. This man knew where Drake was he was the one who had killed him. “H-he’s d-d-dead.”

“Still sticking with that story, huh?” the smile he shot her was beyond menacing. It was pure, unadulterated evil. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” The man plunged his knife into her shoulder, then gestured to one of his men.

It wasn’t until the man came towards her and unzipped his pants that she realised she had never put any clothes on after the shower. She was naked, and injured, and completely at these men’s mercy.

Rachel hoped whatever they were going to do they would hurry up and get it over with. At least she had death to look forward to. In death she could find Drake.

She slipped away to a quiet, peaceful place in her mind where what was happening couldn’t touch her.

Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Who was he?

He didn’t look familiar and yet she knew him. She knew she did.

He was saying something. Rachel could see his mouth moving but she couldn’t hear the words, she couldn’t hear anything.

Obviously frustrated, if the way his eyebrows were knit together were anything to go by, he grabbed her arm and began to drag her towards the door. He grabbed a towel on the way and wrapped it around her, then found her robe on the floor and thrust it to her.

She didn’t know why he was in such a hurry.

Then she heard voices.

Lots of voices.

She finally snapped out of it.

Someone other than this man was here in her home.

Her eyes flew to his and without him even needing to say anything she read in those deep blue depths the answers she needed.

The people who killed her husband and made her lose her daughter were here.

The man manoeuvred her into her bedroom and shoved her towards the bed. “Pretend you’re asleep, don’t tell them I’m here,” he hissed at her then disappeared.

In a daze she stumbled down onto the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. If it was the men who had killed her husband here then she knew what was coming.

Pain.

Fear.

Probably death.

Rachel scrunched her eyes closed and wished that that was all it took to make this all go away. Why had she survived that day if she was only going to be tortured all over again and killed?

The door handle rattled, then it swung open. Heavy footsteps clomped towards the bed.

Then they stopped.

That was even more terrifying.

After a long moment of silence the covers were ripped out of her hands so roughly that they ripped her fingernails off.

“Long time no see, Snow White,” the voice of her nightmares sneered.

She had no idea who he was.

He wanted to sit her down and explain everything but they didn’t have time.

Someone had just broken into Rachel’s house. They must have been following him, or staking out her house knowing that he would eventually turn up here.

He should have stayed away.

Oh, well it was too late for that now.

How were they going to get out of this?

Rachel was still standing staring at him, water streaming down her naked body. She’d lost weight, and she looked like all she did was walk around in a haze. She wasn’t going to be any help.

Maybe he should hide, or sneak out, leave her here to deal with the men on her own, if they didn’t think she knew anything then they might leave her alone.

Who was he kidding?

They would torture her until she gave them something. They’d probably trash the house too, especially if they had been watching waiting for him to show up. If he tried to run there were probably men surrounding the house anyway.

He couldn’t do it anyway.

He couldn’t run and leave Rachel here to face the wrath of these sadistic men alone.

Being a dead man was a whole lot harder than it seemed.

“Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

The voice startled Rachel out of her reverie and her head whipped sideways to see a man standing in her bathroom.

A man.

In her bathroom.

That should shock her, terrify her, concern her in some way but it didn’t. She was too numb. If he had come here to kill her then he would be doing her a favour. Her husband had been murdered and she had miscarried their unborn daughter and nearly died.

Nearly.

If he was here to finish the job she would thank him and walk gladly into death’s dark clutches.

He didn’t move and neither did she.

Then his words sunk in.

Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?

That was what Drake always used to say to her because he thought she looked like Snow White.

Rachel gasped and her gaze darted to the man’s face. He looked familiar, he felt familiar, was he one of the men from the lake?

Six months ago she and her undercover cop husband had been awakened in the middle of the night by a gang of men in their bedroom. The men had tied them up, thrown them in a car, and driven them out to a secluded frozen lake where they had stripped them both naked and tortured them for hours.

Someone had saved her life that night.

Come back for her when she and her husband had been left for dead.

Was it this man?

Rachel turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, not bothering to grab a towel to cover her naked body. “Who are you?” she asked. She was sure she knew him she just couldn’t figure out how.

The man reached out and touched her cheek. His touch, she was sure she had felt it before, but his face while it was familiar she was sure she had never seen it before.

“Please, tell me who you are,” she implored. This man might be a friend of Drake’s, he could be the only link left she had to the man she loved.

Before he could answer she was startled by the crystalline sound of the back window shattering.

Someone else was in her house.

The men from the lake?

Had they followed this man here? Did they think he had saved her life once before and now they were going to kill them both?

Rachel was beautiful.

The kind of drop dead gorgeous stunning that you thought only existed in your dreams until you looked at her and realised that sometimes dreams really do come true.

She had curves in all the right places and the softest skin you could imagine. She had eyes as black as the darkest of nights, staring into them was like looking into a black hole that you would gladly let swallow you up just for a chance at kissing those plump lips. Her hair was as black as her eyes and felt like silk when it ran through his fingers. Her milky white complexion contrasted starkly with her dark hair and eyes, making her his very own Snow White.

She was perfection.

She was his.

She hadn’t heard him yet, she was lost in thought, her eyes were closed, her face tilted up to the water’s hot spray, the water streamed down upon her, leaving little glittering trails down a body that had lost too much weight since the last time he had seen her.

Outside the rain poured down as the thunder shook the house.

The drumming of the rain and the drumming of the shower seemed to invade his very soul.

He needed to touch her.

He needed to kiss her.

He needed to be inside.

Drake stepped closer and pressed one hand to the glass wall of the shower. “Hello, Rachel.”