Tag: suspense

  • Week 65 – Go ahead. Kill me.

    “Stay still,” Stephen ordered as he attempted to drag the woman from her mangled car.

    The woman just continued to scream and struggle to get away from him. The urge to shake some sense into her and physically make her stop screaming was strong. But he’d had to put his flashlight down to get the door open and now he he couldn’t see well enough to check to see how badly she was injured.

    Stephen took a long slow breath, now was not the time to lose his temper. The woman was hurt and no doubt scared, getting angry with her wasn’t going to help.

    “Ma’am, I’m a cop,” he said, hoping that would calm her.

    It didn’t.

    She continued to yell at the top of her lungs, too bad for her the wind caught any sound she made and whipped it away, rendering it useless.

    Unable to take another second of her screams he shook her as firmly as he could without causing her more harm. Hysterical women were hard enough to handle on a good day, but on a freezing, snowy night they were a definite no.

    “Just do it,” she shrieked. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

    Kill her?

    The lady had clearly hit her head. Why would she think he was going to kill her? This was what he got for stopping to help a stranger in need. No more runs through the woods as a storm was coming in for him. He didn’t usually, only this storm was supposed to last for a few days and he couldn’t spend that long cooped up in his cabin, so he’d needed one last run. A long one that would last him a few days.

    “Please. Please. I won’t tell anyone what I saw, I promise. Just please don’t kill me.” The woman had gone from telling him to kill her to begging him to leave her alone in under ten seconds. He really needed to know how badly she was hurt, but first he needed to get her out of the car.

    Keeping a firm grip on her biceps he dragged her forcefully from the vehicle. She was still squirming but her strength seemed to be waning, that probably wasn’t a good thing. The storm seemed to have knocked out reception so he couldn’t call for help, that meant he was going to have to take her back to his cabin, driving in this was out of the question, they’d both wind up dead. He just hoped her injuries weren’t so bad she would be dead before the weather cleared enough to get her to a hospital.

    “Please,” she whimpered, she would have hit the ground if he wasn’t still holding her up.

    “I’m a cop,” he repeated slowly, carefully enunciating each word so it penetrated her terrified haze.

    The woman froze.

    He could feel her eyes on him even though all he could see was the shadowy outline of her face.

    “A cop?” she echoed.

    “I’m a cop,” he confirmed.

    “Oh, thank goodness.” With that she threw herself against him, her hands curled into her jacket, her shivering body pressed against him, and he felt something. Something inside him stirred, a feeling right in the pit of his belly, a spark, a tingle, a whatever you wanted to call it, but this woman made him feel something he didn’t think he’d ever experience again.

    He was in big trouble now.

  • Week 64 – Suddenly she was blinded by light

    “Ahh.”

    The sound of moaning caught her by surprise.

    Was someone here?

    Where was here?

    Paisley felt numb. Like she was floating. She was so tired. She wanted to let her mind go blank and drift away again but something was niggling at the back of her mind. A memory, but she couldn’t catch hold of it. She felt like she should be moving, like she shouldn’t be here, but she had no idea why.

    “Ahh.”

    There was that moaning again.

    Where was it coming from?

    “Ahh.’

    Oh.

    Wait.

    The moaning was coming from her.

    With that realisation she was flooded with pain. It covered every inch of her like a heavy blanket.

    She still had no idea of the cause, when suddenly she was blinded by light.

    Instinct had her squinting against it and raising her hands to cover her face. Then everything came back with a rush. The man in the road holding a human head. He’d pointed a gun at her. She’d lost control of the car and crashed it.

    Now someone was standing beside her car.

    Trying to open the door.

    When the man with the flashlight began to try to force her battered car’s door open, Paisley forgot about the pain, she forgot about everything but getting out of here.

    Her hands were shaking badly, and she fought with her seatbelt to get it undone. Her limbs were heavy and sluggish, and once the seatbelt finally came undone she got tangled in it as she tried to shove it away from her.

    With a huge creak that shuddered through the car, the man wrenched open her door.

    Large hands reached for her.

    Paisley tried to move out of his reach, climb further back into the car where she could escape through another door, but her body wouldn’t cooperate, and soon those large hands were wrapping around her biceps and dragging her from the car.

    She screamed, and screamed, and screamed as though her life depended on it. Because it did.

  • Week 63 – Ugh, I hate snow

    “Ugh, I hate snow,” Paisley muttered to herself as she drove home from the store.
     
    She was not looking forward to the impending snowstorm as she had already lost her heat, but at least she was prepared. Canned food, candles, plenty of bottles of water, if she ended up being snowed in then at least she would have everything she needed.
     
    It was night’s like this that she wished she lived in town. At least then she would be close to neighbours and help should she need it during the storm. But then she wouldn’t be able to have her horses right there with her on her property. She used to agist her two horses, Walnut and Hazelnut, on a property ten miles from her house, but between work, and life, she was hardly able to make it out to see them once a week. Now she got to see them every day. It was definitely worth the other compromises she had to make.
     
    The wind howled, and a gust buffeted her car, if she didn’t drive a huge SUV it probably would have pushed her off the road. Snow was coming down hard and fast and she hoped it didn’t get too bad until she was home and settled, she didn’t want to have to lug all these bags inside in the pouring snow.
     
    Another gust of wind tried to send her car heading straight towards a ditch and Paisley had to battle the steering wheel to keep it on the road and going in a straight line. She couldn’t wait to be home, cuddled up with her do on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, in front of a roaring fire.
     
    She was close to home, only a half mile to go when something caught her eye.
     
    It was dark and snowing but she saw a man.
     
    He was standing in the middle of the road.
     
    He wasn’t moving.
     
    There was something in his hands.
     
    Paisley squinted, trying to see more clearly through the blur of the snow and the nearly completely dark night.
     
    It looked like . . .
     
    It looked like . . .
     
    It looked like a head.
     
    A human head.
     
    That couldn’t be right.
     
    She must just be imagining it, it wasn’t like the light from her headlights really gave her a clear view of anything.
     
    She was getting closer and a bad feeling settled in her gut. She wasn’t more than a dozen yards or so from him now and moving quickly closer, but he still hadn’t moved.
     
    He lifted a hand and this time she knew that what she was seeing wasn’t her overactive imagination kicking into high gear.
     
    It was gun.
     
    And he was pointing it directly at her.
     
    With a scream that she wondered if he could hear over the howl of the wind she turned the wheel hard to the right.
     
    Her wheels caught on the ice and her car spun wildly out of control.
     
    Still the man didn’t move.
     
    As her car slid on the ice toward a ditch a loud crack shattered her back window and pain exploded like a bomb through her body.
     
    Paisley tried to move, she tried to drive, she tried to think.
     
    She found she could do none of those things.
     
    All she could do was slide towards unconsciousness as her car slid towards the ditch.
     
    It hit with such force it tossed her against the steering wheel, then whipped her back against her seat. Pure, burning agony like nothing she had ever felt before washed her away into its inky blackness, leaving her completely helpless and at the mercy of whoever had been standing in the road.
  • Week 62 – Woken by the screams of the dead

    Blood, screams, his, Alayna’s, Damian’s, they all mixed together into one big, red, loud mess.

    Then all of a sudden Mekhi was awake, woken by the screams of the dead.

    Alayna?

    Had it been her screaming?

    He switched on the bed and rolled over, only to have his hopes dashed. Again. She wasn’t awake. Her lashes remained fanned out on her pale cheeks, just as they had been for the last eight months.

    She wasn’t going to wake up.

    He had to accept that. It killed him, but what choice did he have?

    . . . White. The whole world was white. Peaceful, serene, calming white.

    A tiny dot of black appeared in her quiet, white world.

    A dot of pain.

    Unbearable, unimaginable, sorrow.

    Mekhi’s pain.

    Alayna felt it, it climbed inside her, filling her up, guiding her back to him.

    Her white world faded away replaced by colors. Silky maroon sheets, cherry wooden bedposts, red walls. Red. Her world had been white but Mekhi’s was red.

    She wanted to live in Mekhi’s world.

    Somehow her hand moved it, found his and interlaced their fingers.

    All of a sudden his face appeared above her. Bloodshot eyes, scruffy beard, haggard lines of worry etched into his face.

    All of that floated away as he looked at her. She didn’t quite understand yet what had happened, but as Mekhi pressed a kiss to her forehead none of that mattered.

  • Week 61 – Buried alive in the stifling heat

    Revenge was sweet, but not sweet enough.

    It wasn’t enough to make his brother suffer over and over again. That didn’t bring Alayna back and that was all he really wanted.

    But since he couldn’t have that Mekhi was going to enjoy every second of torturing Damian and then he was going to move on to every other member of his family.

    They were all his prisoners now. He and the few men who were loyal to him had captured them all. If it he hadn’t had one of his men pretending to be with Damian then it would be him and Alayna trapped down here. He owed Heath his life and the man would be well repaid for all he had done.

    Mekhi paused in front of a door and peered through the small window to look inside the room. Damian lay on the floor of the sauna, eyes closed, unmoving, but not dead. He made sure someone checked on him at regular intervals. He didn’t want his brother dead just yet, but being buried alive in the stifling heat of the sauna would make Damian wish he was.

    He was ready to have Damian removed from the sauna and move on to the final stage. He’d had enough of playing with his brother. Six months of inflicting every horror he could come up with on him had taken its toll and Mekhi didn’t think that Damian’s body could hold out much longer.

    Before he inflicted one last torturous death on him there was something he had to do.

    Leaving the dungeon he headed upstairs to his room. His and Alayna’s room. It was where he spent most of his time, if he wasn’t in the dungeon he was up here. With her, his beautiful, bright, shining star. His heart physically ached being away from her. Nothing he could do to Damian would ever be enough to erase that pain.

    “Hi, baby,” he said as he went to the bed, brushing her silky locks off her forehead.

    Alayna didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. She had been in a coma since that day six months ago where his brother had tried to take his girl from him.

    Six months of hell. Watching the woman he loved just lie there, unable to even breathe without the aid of a ventilator. He was lucky to still have her, he knew that. She should be dead. If his doctor wasn’t as good as he was, or had arrived just a couple of minutes later then he would have lost her.

    At least now there was hope.

    Despite the doctor’s insistences that she would never wake up, Mekhi couldn’t give up hope. He wouldn’t do that to Alayna. She had never given up on him. No matter what he had done, no matter how he had hurt her, no matter who he was she had never given up on him. She had loved him, and he would love her until the end.

    The bullet to her abdomen that had ripped her from him, had at least done one good thing. It had ruined the word Damian had been sewing into her flesh. Alayna didn’t belong to his family, she belonged to him, and he was going to give them both their revenge.

    “It’s time, baby,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m going to make his death as slow and agonising as I can.”

    Mekhi was going to skin his brother alive and record every scream so he could play them for Alayna when it was all over. He had to believe that wherever she was and whatever of her former self still remained inside her would take comfort from hearing the screams of the man who had hurt her.

    He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, then with more bloodlust that was healthy went to kill his brother.