Okay, so I know I have a multi-chapter installment that I could be adding to instead, but let's be honest guys—who can focus on anything else right now with the quickly approaching Last Dance? This was kind of on a whim, and I don't know if I'll add to or keep it a one shot, but for now, here's my little prediction for the terrifying final chapter of Save Benson. Enjoy.
I could feel the unforgiving winds beating against the sides of the small, black town car as I zipped down the abandoned Brooklyn back road. Every inch traveled was another moment closer to my own worst nightmare.
As my GPS flashed a pink warning at me, my stomach dropped to my knees. I was almost there. It was as if I could almost feel the hair standing on end at the nape of my neck. With Lewis, it was almost like a sixth sense; an instinctive indicator that a predator was near, about to pounce. It was the same feeling I'd gotten when he first called the precinct all those hours ago.
"Good morning, Sunshine."
I swallowed hard at the memory, fighting back my own subconscious as the thought of Brian flitted through my brain. How Lewis had desecrated another precious facet of my life by putting his mark on words that I used to see so beautifully. I ignored the stab of pain that radiated through my chest as I reprocessed the last time I'd seen Brian, only two short days ago: under the dim light of the cold city streetlight as we settled our mutually painful decision to part ways. I thought about where he was now. He was undercover, somewhere that was so top secret that even I couldn't know, and utterly oblivious to the horror that had ensued only hours after he left.
As I made a sharp left turn, my car began to rattle along what felt to be a gravel drive. I felt my heart palpitate in my chest and I knew this was it. In the short distance, the towering silhouette of an old, abandoned warehouse stood bold and stark against the starless night sky. Around it were piles of stony debris that seemed to stretch on for miles on high. Silent, dark, secluded—the very sight of the horror film-esque scenery sent shivers down my spine. Simply put, it was precisely the setting that I would have deemed fit for a sadistic monster like Lewis to find refuge.
Slowly, I crept toward the tall structure, recalling my explicit instructions. Unwillingly, I forced my body to maneuver the car in the direction that Lewis had ordered earlier, every moment passing feeling more and more like suicide. Despite the rapidly rising bubble of fear, I willed myself to carry on, functioning solely for the focal point of a scared, lonely, endangered little girl.
As I spotted the entrance that Lewis had earlier indicated, I hesitantly turned my ignition to a halt, hating the darkness that followed my degenerating headlights.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My heart was going insane. I thought it might burst from my ribcage at any moment and leave me for dead before Lewis could even get to me. I couldn't believe what I was doing. But at the same time, it was blatantly clear. Somehow, one way or another, I'd always known that it would lead to this point one day.
Sacrificing it all for a victim. It was all but pre-encrypted on my grave. I knew that. Lewis knew that. And that is exactly why I was there. No matter what happened in the following hours to come, one thing was for sure.
Lewis was never going to hurt another living soul because of me again.
Trembling from head to toe, I stepped out of the town car and turned into the darkness with my hands held high in surrender. My stomach dropped when I saw him there, standing just where I'd anticipated yet his presence still managed to startle me. The haunting familiarity of his demeanor sent a cold shiver down my spine
Smirk on his face, angry scar glaring out around his eye, gun poised and ready.
"Hello, Olivia," His steely voice was a vacuum that sucked the breath from my lungs.
Instinctively I took a step back, every fiber of my being screaming at me to add distance from the monster before me. But he was quick on his game, always ready to strike first, as his thundering boots began their dreadful trudge in my direction. Knowing just what was at stake here, I couldn't find it within myself to move a muscle from his path of destruction. Taking his agonizingly slow time, he lurked toward me, stopping only when the barrel of his gun stared me down from only a foot away.
Under the weight of his silent threat and menacing glare, it suddenly felt silly that I had thought to wear my vest as some sort of half-exerted effort for self preservation. He smirked as he eyeballed it. It was a joke, and we both knew it.
"Where is she?" I croaked, hating the unsteadiness in my voice but being entirely unable to prevent it.
"Always right to the point with you," he shook his head, "All business, no play, right Sergeant Benson ?"
I swallowed, struggling to find my voice.
"ButI've missed you so much," he whispered almost delicately, slowly drooping the gun to caress my cheek with the cold metal.
I recoiled as the familiar touch sent me back to that fateful day almost a year ago. The day where everything changed. His face lit up at my reaction. Holding my gaze for a few more innumerable moments, his expression suddenly darkened, a rapid change in emotion that I had grown sickeningly accustomed to during our first encounter.
"Turn around," his voice came out in a ravaged whisper.
Fighting my body's instinctive need to oppose him, I reminded myself of the scared twelve-year-old whose fate depended on my cooperation. My passion to serve and protect the defenseless overpowered my fear… without actually making it disappear. With significant effort, I managed to coerce my heavy limbs into following his instructions.
Before I could even turn all the way around, his palm struck hard between my shoulder blades, pushing my unsuspecting body flat against the side of the car. Barely catching myself with my hands, I fought my compulsions to fight him once again, stiffening my body for whatever assault he had coming.
In an instant, he was on me—his body pressed firmly against mine as his hands explored the length of my body, over-invasively frisking my person for any extra weapons I might have been hiding. Instantly regretting my innocent decision to wear form fitting jeans this morning, it took every inch of strength in my soul to resist the urge to vomit at his touch. When his search came up empty, he snaked his hand to where my exposed service revolver laid snug in its holster around my waist. As I felt his long fingers pull my last solid hope of defense from my possession, my breath hitched in my throat.
"You brought me another present, I see," he sneered, leaning in over my shoulder so that his breath tickled against the clammy skin of my cheek, "Just like old times. Thanks, sweetheart."
I shuddered openly as he planted a soft kiss on my temple, not caring at this point if he saw my fear or not.
"You came a little overdressed for the party, though," he commented, running his fingers delicately over the Velcro straps of my lead vest, "All these clothes are a bit excessive, don't you think?"
Without giving me a chance to respond to his repulsive suggestion, his hands suddenly yanked the thick material apart in the back, causing an involuntary cry to escape my lips at the shock. Then, taking his precious time, he worked the thick fabric over my shoulders and off my front, making sure to pause his hands in all the wrong places.
I flinched as the lead vest smacked against the pavement beneath us, closing my eyes tightly as he immediately pulled my body closer to his, resting his chin on my shoulder with his hands on my waist. My breathing was laborious now, my mind working at full speed to ward off the dark flashbacks and panic attacks that lapped dangerously at my consciousness. But my efforts became less and less compelling as his invasive paws continued their intrusion on my body.
"And you look so much prettier with your hair down, Olivia," he whispered, trailing a finger upward toward my hair to twirl a finger through my spiraled ponytail.
Without warning, he yanked the elastic from my hair, eliciting another cry from me.
"Much better," he purred, running his fingers through the length of my tousled locks. My mind snapped back to all the months of recovery I'd worked through, trying desperately to forget the horrid feeling of his hands in my hair. Even going as far as cutting it all off myself in a desperate attempt to rid myself of the memory of his touch. I guess that was all for not now.
When he spun me around to face him again, I managed to dig deep enough to find my voice.
"Where's Amelia?" I demanded, focusing on the point that really mattered here, trying hard to control the fear that I felt beneath his eyes.
He chuckled.
"Impatient, are we?" he teased, stroking a loose piece of hair from my face.
Angrily, I stepped back from his touch.
"That was the deal," I growled, "I come here, you let her go."
"I don't think that's quite what was said," he said, tilting his head with a frown. He was playing games.
"Lewis," I warned, my voice holding a lot more bravery than I felt, "This is between you and me. It doesn't have to involve her, okay? You want me, and I'm right here."
I raised my hands in surrender to emphasize my point, ignoring the waves of nausea that crashed over me at my submissive gesture.
"You're a 'man of your word,' right? Prove it. Take me to her," I prompted further, knowing full well I was tiptoeing in dangerous waters provoking him like that, but all I cared about was making sure this little girl was alive and unharmed.
This seemed to capture his attention, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he observed my audacity to challenge him. Finally, his eyes shifted from me.
"Fine," he retorted calmly, "Let's go."
The eerie serenity in his voice made me hesitate, but I didn't have time to reconsider as Lewis abruptly slammed me face first against the hood of the car, yanking my arms behind my back and fastening them in place with the cold, metal bracelets. Instantly, I hated the all-too familiar feeling of restraint more than anything.
Snatching me up by my elbow, he hauled me wordlessly to the back side of the black town car and threw me forcefully onto the backseat, slamming the door behind me. As he made his way around to the driver's side, I tried desperately to rekindle what was left of my quickly unraveling composure. But my efforts were in vain. Who was I kidding?
I knew the choice I was making the moment I'd ditched my security detail to sneak away and come here. Obviously, I hated the ramifications of my decision but it really was never a question in my mind; undoubtedly, I'd do anything to protect the welfare of a child. Even if it meant giving up the months of grueling effort I'd spent in recovery. Even if it meant giving up my life.
There was no calming myself down because surely from here things were only bound to get worse.
As Lewis sunk into the driver's seat and started the car, he reached up to adjust the rearview mirror until it reflected a direct shot to my eyes. Our gazes met and he greeted me with a sadistic, triumphant smile.
"Just like old times," he repeated.