9.
Olivia was pulled from a heavy sleep by the faint squeal of brakes, the engine falling silent. The sky outside was still fully dark, wisps of clouds framing the faint glow of stars. She tried to process what any of it meant, but found she was too tired, her eyes beginning to close again.
The car door opened abruptly, jerking her arms in their sockets. Hands were working at the metal around her wrists, then pulling her upright and out of the car, her feet hitting cement. Her body was stiff from hours of immobility, her legs refusing to respond to her commands. A house loomed before her, darkened and ominous.
The inside of the house looked very much like the home of an older woman, filled with lacy tablecloths and faded furniture. But the floor was covered with cigarette butts and other garbage, broken glass and knicknacks scattered about. Lewis had clearly been there for a while. He didn't give her much chance to look around. He half-carried, half-dragged her further into the house, past a living room and a kitchen, towards a doorway with a staircase that led downwards into darkness. It was there that she finally gathered her wits enough to whimper and try to pull away, but it was useless. He maneuvered her past the door and then further on, shoving her down the last couple steps. She hit the ground hard and he was on her before she could even catch her breath.
He beat her viciously in the semidarkness of the cellar, his fists striking her ribs, her stomach, her back. Each blow seemed to send shocks of white hot pain through her entire body, radiating throughout her core. She'd been struck before but she'd never been beaten. She'd never been thrown down to the ground and hurt so violently - hit over and over until she could barely breathe. She couldn't fight him. All she could do was try to shield her head and wait for him to finish.
Finally, he stopped.
After a few moments, she raised her head weakly to stare in his direction. He was silhouetted against the illumination from the top of the stairs, outlined in light and shadow. His shoulders heaved with exertion but his face was expressionless, no hint of anger or even pleasure. Blood glinted wetly on his knuckles.
"Lewis," she croaked. "Lewis, please..."
He dragged her to her feet before she could finish, shoving her further into the cellar. She staggered and nearly fell, every limb aching. He caught her, a hand tangling into her hair as he forced her forward. Near the center of the room, a length of chain hung from a ceiling beam, and she blinked at it, mouth dry.
"Lewis..."
Quicker than her dulled senses would have believed, he'd freed one of her hands and looped a cuff through the chain before placing it back on her wrist. The chain was placed just barely too high, enough that she'd always have to stay slightly on her toes or hang painfully from her wrists.
Lewis took a step back to inspect his work, his eyes lingering on uncomfortable places. She shuddered, feeling horrifically exposed. Her shirt was already shredded badly enough to be a mere formality, her pants unzipped and barely clinging to her hips.
Apparently, he liked what he saw though, because he moved forward and caressed the skin of her stomach, smiling as she shivered and shied away.
He raised his hand to touch her face. "A couple months ago I asked you if you wanted me to burn your clothes off or cut them off. What did you say? I don't remember."
She turned her head, trying to hold back tears.
He shrugged, glancing down and digging through his pockets. "It doesn't matter anyway. I think it's my turn to pick."
There was a distinct flick of a lighter and Olivia looked up abruptly. The yellow light illuminated the shadowy crags of his face as he looked at her with an all too familiar expression of gleeful interest. She was frozen in place, too stunned to even protest. Even after everything that had happened, she still couldn't bring herself to believe that Lewis could go this far this fast.
He bent down, pinning her foot to the ground with his as he moved the lighter closer to her leg. For a moment, she thought nothing had happened - maybe the cloth was insufficiently flammable. But then the flickering yellow light grew brighter, throwing the shelves into sharp relief. The pain hit a second later, her skin cracking and blistering beneath the intense heat as she struggled fruitlessly against the handcuffs, the metal cutting into her flesh.
"Don't do this," she managed to gasp, her eyes seeking out his. "Please don't. Please."
He only looked at her, his lips curled up in a tiny smile.
Maybe he meant to kill her this way, she thought, hyperventilating as the flames crept higher. He'd already raped her back at the crime scene. He'd proven his point and what else did he need? He'd gotten what he wanted from her and now he'd burn her alive like so much unwanted garbage.
"Lewis, please," she screamed. "I'll do anything. I'll do anything, I swear. Please."
He turned on his heel and disappeared behind a shelf. She thought he'd gone away - not even curious enough to watch her die - but he returned a second later with a bucket of water. He threw it over her with a single motion and the flames extinguished in a hiss of steam. She hung there limply in her bonds, too numb with terror and relief to even react. He walked over to her, lifting her chin with his fingers, studying her face.
"You don't mean it yet," he said after a moment. "But you will."
He gagged her with tape and blindfolded her too for good measure. Then he left her there alone, to tremble in the dark and cold.
At first the cold was the worst part. Water dripped off her skin and clothes, hitting the ground with audible splashes. It hurt to shiver. It hurt her ribs and her muscles and the new wound on her side. Even so, she shook hard enough that her chest felt tight, her breath coming in shuddering bursts.
As her clothes dried, the numbness in her arms built into pain, metal cutting sharply into her wrists. She tried to ignore it, shifting her body to relieve the pressure. It didn't help. Time passed in absolute darkness and silence. Once in a while she thought she heard Lewis move upstairs, but she couldn't be sure. White spots rippled before her vision, her eyes flittering back and forth at nothing.
After a while, she decided to try taking off the blindfold, worrying at it against her arm. The cloth slid slowly down her face, finally dropping down to hang against her chest. The world wasn't much different with her eyes uncovered, still darkness and little else. She could see faint outlines of shelves and boxes scattered about haphazardly, walls but no windows. No exit but the door up the stairs.
She glanced down at herself then closed her eyes immediately. She could see the bruises rising on her skin already, and a long, ugly burn along her side. It would be another scar to add to her collection. If she even lived that long.
When she'd collected herself, she tilted her head upwards, looking at the steel that bound her hands above her. The cuffs were looped through a much larger chain that had been strung through a hole in a ceiling beam. The wood was old but not rotted. If she worked with the chain enough, she could perhaps lengthen the hole, break through the beam. And then -
It would take days, her mind informed her calmly. It would take days if she was at full strength, never mind now. But what choice did she have? She reached up towards the chain.
Suddenly, the twisted cloth of the blindfold tightened around her neck, yanking her backwards. She managed half a gasp before her air was cut off entirely, her hands jerking in her cuffs. Lewis had appeared behind her, as silent as ever.
"Don't," he whispered. His hand was reaching up to hers, brushing her fingers. "Don't even think about it."
He bent her index finger back slowly, inexorably, until it broke with an audible snap. She tried to scream but no sound came out. He gave her a little shake with the cloth around her neck, his lips next to her ear.
"Try again and, I'll cut it off instead. Understand?"
She gave a tiny frantic nod, dizzy from lack of air.
He released her and replaced the blindfold, then left her alone again. He didn't even give her the chance to beg him to stop, she thought, as her hand throbbed miserably. She might have done it. Maybe that was the problem. Everyone overestimated her strength.
She feared what was coming, but waiting was a kind of torture as well. He'd known this last time, used it against her. By the time he'd chained her to the bed in that empty beach house, she'd been out of her mind with fear and pain, ready to give in if only to get things over with. And time was on his side now. He could leave her here until she was half dead from dehydration, until her hands were permanently damaged from hanging like this. Then she'd have no shot at all. Better to take her chances while she still had the strength.
And in any case, one fact was undeniable. The sooner this began, the sooner it would be over.
She let out a breath, lowered her head, and waited.
When he finally returned, it was as sudden as ever. The blindfold was yanked from her head, the tape ripped from her mouth, making her head jerk abruptly to the side. He said nothing, watching her, his head tilted slightly to the left.
She spoke without prompting. "Please." Her voice trembled. "Rape me. Do what you want. Just let me down."
In the darkness, she felt him smile more than she saw it. "I knew you'd come around."
He circled around her, a hand trailing slowly upwards. Suddenly, he jerked her head back by the hair, his other hand tugging at her waist. The remnants of her pants slid down her legs and she couldn't hold back a cry of horror.
"We can take it easy this time," he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "Just to get you settled in."
She could feel him pressing against her, warm against her skin. Both hands were at her hips now, and he pulled her towards him as he eased inside of her.
Compared to last time he was almost gentle, moving slowly, almost tenderly, like she wasn't hanging bruised and mostly naked from a chain in a dead woman's basement. But she was still sore from earlier and every movement pulled her injured wrists against the chain, sending bolts of agony down her arms. And nothing could disguise the sheer sense of violation, the knowledge that this was only the very start. She cried silently, her tears hitting the dirty floor.
She felt him finish, his fingers digging into her skin. After a moment, he reached upwards, stretching an arm above her head. Her wrist was released with an appalling suddenness and she tumbled down, hitting the ground hard. Her hands tingled and stung as blood rushed back into her arms and she tried to hold back a whimper of pain.
Lewis nudged her with his foot. "Get up," he said. "Time to go upstairs."
Slowly, she started to push herself off the ground. Her hands worked, but barely. She reached for her pants with her unbroken hand, but Lewis pinned her down by the wrist.
"No. Take them off."
She felt tears prickling at her eyes again. "Lewis, please."
He looked at her implacably. "Either these stay here or you do. And trust me, you won't enjoy what happens down here."
She gritted her teeth and obeyed. Afterwards, he pulled her upright, steadying her as she wobbled on her feet. The only bits of clothing she had left were the tattered scraps of her shirt and she found herself shivering again with both fear and cold.
He pushed her up the stairs and she braced herself for what came next.
