Author's Note: I really have no idea where I'm going with this just yet but decided to expand on this. Hopefully it lives up to some of the other Red Canyon stories here and hopefully my interpretation of Mac is equally as well written. Drop a line or two on your way out and let me know what you think.
Chapter 2
Some may liken it to Stockholm Syndrome: the victim sympathizing with their captor, in some cases developing feelings of affection towards them for allowing the victim small acts of "kindness" such as allowing them to small bits of food, water, bathroom privileges…
But with Mac it's never about "kindness." Matter of fact there's not a kind bone in his body, unless you count one (but that's really not a bone, is it?)
With Mac it's a game of how long can you survive being raped, tortured, and drugged before he gets bored and kills you. The only reason he let me live was because I found a more than suitable replacement to take my place after I made my escape. His name isn't of any great importance, the only thing I cared about was getting back at that son of a bitch for laying hands on me.
But allow me to start from the beginning.
I remember vividly that it was mid-summer, probably sometime in July and it was high noon when I had wandered out into the Luna Mesa. Sure the canyons were bound to draw in tourists but usually they'd only stay for a day or two then move on to their next destination. Walter, some old man I was talking to, had warned to stay on the paths and if I had encountered any trouble to let him know.
"The cops around here aren't too bright."
I wasn't sure if he meant that cops around here are complete morons or if they were all mentally challenged like the deputy I had encountered just before entering the Luna Mesa. Walter had also warned about people suddenly disappearing if they failed to stay on the beaten path. He had heard reports from those lucky enough to make it back alive that they felt like someone or something was watching them. Some witness stories included seeing a maniac wielding a knife and wearing a gas mask to conceal their true identity.
Somehow I couldn't stop the laugh that surfaced, Walter was just as cracked in the head as the rest of the locals. Those that trickled into the Luna Mesa as I waited for a piss warm beer to be served spun tales similar to Walter's. The bar was abuzz with chatter trying to scare myself and the few other tourists that were in town, trying to steer us away from the canyons and to just get the hell out of town the next day. Almost everyone that afternoon heeded their advice and agreed to leave in the morning after a night's rest.
But as the locals stood around trying to convince everyone to get out the bar seemed to grow eerily quiet until only the jukebox near the doors was the only thing that kept the place from going completely silent. Like everyone else my eyes flitted to the door to find the source of the stillness. There he stood in the doorway, a sneer on his lips and a fire in his eyes; it was clear that he hated tourists being here.
"Whiskey!"
The only word he shouted before the bar sprang back to life. The sun was just beginning to set when Walter approached the other end of the bar, pulling a glass and a bottle from underneath. The light of the setting sun bouncing off the glass; a reflection of rainbows was the only bit of happiness the bar evoked. This tall stranger though snubbed that out as he surveyed the place, he held his head high as if he were the only person who mattered; like he owned the place. Most everyone somehow managed to steer clear of this stranger except a barfly or two.
It was as Walter presented me a platter of greasy fries and slime sandwiched between two buns that I felt a pair of eyes burning into me. Glancing up from the slop I found him peering at me from the other side of the bar. He moved swiftly from his stool, slithering through the crowds with one thing on his mind. In one hand was the whiskey bottle, in the other a pair of shot glasses, though where the second glass came from I couldn't be sure; the beer I was sipping went crashing to the floor in one fluid motion as he swept his arm over the bar top to make room for what he wanted.
He said not a word as he poured the two shots, picking up the glass that was in front of me when it was full I slammed the cool amber liquid back, feeling that delicious burn as it worked its way down. Closing my eyes I relished in the taste that I had missed, the woodsy smell that seemed to recall a time when I could relax a little around a fire. Opening my eyes I was presented with another full shot and a dangerous smile that played behind his blue orbs.
"Under normal circumstances I'd be asking for a name if I'm drinking whiskey with a stranger, but I've got a feeling nothing about you or this place is normal." Slinging back the second shot I placed the glass back on the bar and waited to see what he'd do.
"Never seen you around here before, would remember a pair of tits like that."
"Funny, you strike me as more of an ass man. Just got in town this morning." I lied.
"You know what's good for ya you'll take Walter's advice and get out town like everyone else."
"But if I was like everyone else I'd be turning in for the night and keeping a close eye on everyone I brought with me instead of keeping an eye out for people like you."
"Like me?" he questioned, bringing the bottle to his lips and tipping his head back.
"You reek of danger and ooze confidence, people are scared of you," I surmised giving him a once over.
He offered the bottle that he kept a tight grip on; my fingers wrapped around the neck just under his but he made sure that at least one finger on his hand brushed against mine. As I brought the bottle to my lips I made sure to keep an eye on him when my head fell back. I watched as he tentatively brought his hand out, the feel of his fingers curling around my neck, the muscles in each of those digits contracting and relaxing before he took the bottle away.
"You ain't scared?"
"What reason do I have to be scared of you? You think the dried blood under your nails is enough? Or perhaps the murderous glare in your eyes? I have more reason to be scared of someone else than I do of you."
Just as he opened his mouth to say something the doors of the bar swung open and a thunderous voice silenced the noisy atmosphere. The people on the floor cleared a path at his command, much like how Moses parted the Red Sea. I carefully eyed Walter as he reached under the bar for something, though what it was I couldn't tell.
"You have some competition." I muttered before I was roughly pulled from my bar stool and dragged out of the establishment.
The car door slammed shut around me and just briefly the overhead light came on then was out again as the driver side door opened and shut. I looked at him for a moment before the familiar sting of his hand across my face had the copper taste of blood in my mouth. Another slap and the cold sensation of glass was against my temple as my head bounced off the window.
"The fuck were you thinking wandering off again? How many times I gotta tell ya to keep your ass put? You trying to get us both locked up? Swear to fucking God you don't answer me when I talk to ya lil girl you're gonna get it when we get back to the house."
My cheeks started to swell as I bit back the tears that threatened to fall; he'd beat me even harder if he saw even one start a path down my face. Another slap, or worse stab, for each one he saw; a kick to the ribs for each time I cried out, every 'I'm sorry' earned a choking, and every 'please stop' or something similar meant my head was plunged under the water's surface until the bubbles came to a near end.
"Just wanted to get out of the house for a little bit, see what this town had to offer. I wasn't gonna do anything; the rules don't say anything about having a drink with a stranger or small talk. Didn't even ge-"
I was cut off as he leaned over into the passenger side seat and wrapped his hands around my neck, my air supply cutoff as I fought against him. One hand eased up just enough to slap me as something shone in the light of the lamp over the parking lot. Both hands came back to my throat until finally everything around me grew black and I heard the familiar crunching as he attempted to crush my windpipe. All at once a rush of air entered my lungs and I lurched forward in a coughing fit, one hand propping myself against the dash and the other carefully massaging my neck in an attempt to ward off the numbness that had begun to set in.
"Next time you mouth off to me will be your last."
'That's what you said last time,' I thought to myself as I leaned back in my seat. As the car came to life I looked out the window and caught sight of a cherry red glow from a cigarette and the stranger I was drinking with leaning against a post.
The moment we were back at the house and the engine was shut off my nightmare began all over again. Leaving the house this afternoon probably wasn't the smartest thing to do when he granted me a small piece of freedom but I hadn't seen daylight or breathed in any fresh air in 43 days. I was pulled through the house like a child dragging their favorite toy around until we finally reached the top of the stairs that led to the basement. He forced the door open and shoved me forward into the darkness. I couldn't stop the scream that escaped as I tumbled down the stairs; my shoulder hit the banister, my foot catching in the space somewhere between the steps breaking my fall along with my ankle. His heavy footfalls on the steps echoed loudly until I could feel him hovering over me. My hair was yanked, more than a few strands being pulled from my head and I was tossed down the stairs the rest of the way, landing on my stomach.
"You know I hate doing that to you but you leave me no other choice. You have to learn to behave and you have to learn that bad girls are going to get punished."
I heard the buckle from his belt come loose and instantly tensed up as I heard the familiar crack of the leather, his hand pulled my shirt up over my head and my bra was unclasped. All at once metal and leather came snapping to life against my back until finally I could feel the blood trickling down my spine, but he didn't stop until he was satisfied that I had learned my lesson about leaving the house.
To ensure the lesson had stuck, my jeans were unbuttoned and stripped away along with my underwear leaving me completely naked on the blood soaked dirt floor of the basement. But my humiliation didn't stop there, I listened intently as the zipper of his pants sang along its tracks, his hands roughly gripped my hips as he pulled the lower half of my body into position. Once again I cried out as he buried himself balls deep inside me; another slap along my back with the belt served as a warning if I did that again.
His hips snapped against mine, his voice crooning in my ear about how tight I always was for him. The belt slipped from his hand as he reached under me to play with my nipple. I couldn't help but cringe as my body began to betray me, the pain that emitted from my nipple being pinched sending messages to brain that it was a pleasurable experience. All at once he stopped and I was crudely put on my back, loose dirt dug into my flesh as he sunk himself in once more. His deep, heavy pants in my ear left a shudder going through me. Rather than announcing that he was cumming he bit down on my neck and snuck a hand down to my clit, forcing my orgasm to meet his.
I was never allowed to touch myself or him when we had sex. That was one of the rules. He would say whether or not I got to finish and if he allowed it, it had to be done at the same time as him.
"Now, be a good girl and get back in your cage. If you promise to be good, maybe, just maybe, I'll let you eat breakfast in the morning."
He kissed the side of my face and slowly I crawled out from under him, making my way to the cage I called my home; broken ankle, dislocated shoulder, and all. Maybe if he was feeling merciful he'd put my shoulder back in place in the morning and set my ankle to prevent it from healing wrong.
"Good night my pet."
"Good night James."
His feet ascended the stairs and quietly the door shut behind him, plunging me in complete darkness. In the distance a coyote howled and a dog barked in response. Curtains blacked out the windows of the basement, forbidding any light from entering the space, depriving me of any sense of time. I sat in the dirt feeling the blood on my back dry and cake, my face lay against the cold, emotionless metal of the bars hoping that it would help bring down some of swelling in my body. Just as I was ready to succumb to sleep a knock on the front door had me on alert. James probably invited a few of his acquaintances from a few towns over to watch as he humiliated me further, showing off how "well trained" I am.
I could pick out James' voice with no problem but the other two voices were too low to make out. Without warning the light came on in the basement and the door opened. Three forms stood in the doorway and peered down on me in judgment and I was forced to bask in my shame. Just as quickly as it happened the light switched off but their forms remained in the door. The last thing I saw before was I enveloped by complete darkness was the cherry red light of a cigarette.
