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Don’t pass out.

Easier said than done, considering the crippling pain in my head. Unable to focus on anything in the room, I began to drift into darkness.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Don’t… fucking pass out.

I forced my eyes open long enough to receive another blow. The impact from the phonebook rattling my brain like a paint can. My vision blurred, and a wave of nausea hit me. I tried to stay as lucid as possible, struggling to focus on anything around me that might aid in my escape. I was gonna have to get pretty fuckin’ clever to get myself out of this before this guy bludgeoned me to death. My host had been letting his fingers do the walking upside my head for some time now, and I wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pa...

“Come on, hero, don’t make me beat you to death,” he said, pausing briefly from his work to slap me awake. “You know what? You really do look like some sort of hero. Like one of those comic book movie guys, or… an action figure.”

“Lemme know if you want me to… autograph anything for… your kids,” I replied, blood dripping from my mouth.

“Tell you what, Captain Hero Man,” he said, leaning in closer. “How ’bout we wrap this up right now and you can get back to saving the universe with the rest of your tight-wearing friends?”

I said nothing.

“How about I put it another way? Tell me what I need to know or you’re gonna die tied to this chair.” His words swam in my head, distorted by the ringing in my ears.

It took every ounce of strength I had to form the necessary response and I almost lost my breath as I said, “All you need to know… is… you hit… like a bitch.” I spit blood and bits of my fractured molar onto his boots.

For a few moments nothing happened. Then another blow to the back of my head. This time it felt like he’d taken a running start. My chin connected with my sternum and every muscle in my neck burned from the whiplash.

“He told me you’d be tough, and he was right,” my torturer said. “He also said you’d be mouthy.”

I’m sure… he did.

“And he was right about that, too,” he continued, wiping sweat from his brow. “But he also said you were smart, and that I’m not buyin’.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “They say ‘never meet your heroes.’”

“If you were smart, you’d tell me where the girl and the book are,” he replied.

“It seems you… have me at a disadvantage, sir,” I slurred. “You seem to know so much about me, and I… don’t know anything about you.”

“You never stop with the jokes, do you?”

“No, really,” I replied. “I’d really love…to get to know my torturer. Tell you what. Answer one question for me, then you can ask me…anything…you want.”

“Fair enough. Ask away,” he said.

“Does your sister know you fantasize about fucking her when you’re torturing people?”

This guy must really have a sister because I felt the full impact of the phonebook, from AAA Carpet Cleaners to Zywicki’s Deli. The chair I was tied to toppled over, the zip ties that bound me cutting deep into my wrists. My already pummeled head hit the floor with a thud and within seconds I was out like a light.

When I came to, I was once again sitting upright but no longer tied to the chair. In fact, I wasn’t tied to anything. I’m not sure how long I remained unconscious and for a moment wondered if I was dead. Eventually I became aware that I was moving. In fact, I was in the passenger seat of a car that was hauling ass through the dead of night.

“Hang on. Stay with me.”

As soon as I heard her voice, I smiled. It probably looked more like a deranged grin given the current state of my face, but I couldn’t help it.

She found me, and once again she’d saved my life.