Blood pounded the sore spot on Marie Tate's head; the same area where her assailant had hit her to drive her into unconsciousness. The memory was dim now, fuzzy, as though she had been drunk when it happened. Her eyes didn't want to respond to her mental demand to open them to look around and when they finally did, she wished they hadn't. She felt cold, dirty… something colder and unbendable was on her neck; something thick enough that she couldn't see it without a mirror. Her hands investigated and numbly felt the uneven cold of rusty metal… a collar?
She looked around and the haze that had kept her unaware of her predicament flew away leaving her defenseless. The single shop lamp in the corner opposite her lit the room well enough for her to see. Her eyes beheld her 'prison'… a tape player lay in the middle of the slick stone floor, a shrouded figure was propped against one of the three gritty, unwashed walls and a television sat lonely in the corner close to the figure.
Marie crawled over to the tape player on the floor and picked it up, hands shaking violently as she pushed play. A voice, distorted and strangely familiar sent a chill down her spine.
'Marie, you have wasted your life, your time, trying to 'collect' debts from those you believe responsible for the death of your innocence. Instead of trying to move on, you have sought vengeance on every man who would attach to you. Now, you will face the end of your suffering by exacting one last vengeance. So I want to play a game. The device around your neck is rigged with two saw blades that will retract to the center of the collar unless you find the key within the next half hour. Sometimes vengeance is hard to stomach.'
The tape reached its end and the TV turned on with a loud burst of static and the countdown lit up the screen. Marie remained silent, her eyes intently focused on the figure in the corner which had begun to make quiet noises. Her heart raced as she slowly made her way to the wall it was propped against. The shroud moved gently with every breath the figure made. She took the corner of the shroud that was closest to her and farthest from the figures feet and pulled it away. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest and the tears streamed down her cheeks silent and unnoticed as her eyes took in the figure. Her older brother, lay dazed and still half covered with the shroud. His shirt was open, plainly to reveal the 'X' painted on his abdomen. And the straight razor on the floor made her blood run cold, sending icy pain through her body with every beat of her heart.
Marie sat shaking, she couldn't kill her brother…he was the only one who had been there.
'Marie sat up in bed, her tiny face slick with sweat. He was coming again…like he had been for the past two years. She jumped out of bed and ran for the door; maybe she could get out of her room before he got there. She had her hands on the doorknob when it banged open, sending her sprawling back on the floor.
"Come here you little bitch, daddy's got a present for you." Her father's voice sounded vicious, sharp…like a razor was on his tongue, cutting her flesh as he spoke. Marie squealed in pain as she was picked up and thrown on the bed. She knew what awaited her now: pain, at least until the neighbors called the police and they came over on the domestic disturbance call. She would be rushed to the hospital for minor fractures, cuts where some unknown blunt force hit her hard enough to split the skin, and sexual trauma…never any evidence to prove her father guilty. Then he would put on a sweet face for the authorities and take her home when they allowed. Then, it would start again…the cycle would begin again.
But this time was different. A loud bang echoed in the room and her father lay still on top of her, taking her breath with his weight. She looked around confused, her ears ringing and saw her 18 year old brother, Thom, standing in the doorway with her father's gun -still smoking from the barrel- in his hands. He ran to her and the best feeling she had felt in two years was then, being gathered up in her brother's arms to get away from all of the pain. The only man she could ever love in any way…'
…now lay on the floor in front of her, weak and mumbling incoherently. Marie shook her head, she wasn't going to kill him to preserve her life; she would die first. Marie looked at the timer on the TV screen…'one minute'. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from 50 seconds and when she reached zero, the blades whirred and moved so quickly that she could barely smile.
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JIGSAW
The girl's head lay on the floor, her eyes closed and mouth twisted into a faint smile. My eyes closed and I turned the chair around to face the direction of two other monitors. I smiled; this end result showed that she had learned a better lesson than I had to teach...gratefulness. It looked like she had passed a test of her own. I looked at the results on the nearest monitor. He had been quite a bit of trouble but the chloroform worked.
