Chapter Four: Ruthless

Lying under the warm covers, I began to drift into nostalgic daydreams about home and everything that came with it, savoring junk food for dinner because Dad and I were too lazy to cook. We would watch football together, cheering for the Chicago Bears as if we were right there on the field. My dad never missed a night without tucking me into bed. But now, I was all alone in the middle of nowhere, grappling with the torment of my choices.

Then Mal came to mind; she was the only person I truly felt safe confiding in. We would talk late into the night, sharing secrets about the jerks at school and swooning over Aiden Lucas, the hottest boy in class who sat behind me. The realization that those carefree days might be lost forever burned in my throat like a searing coal.

I sucked on the cut on my finger after wiping my tears away with the back of my hand.

***

"Wake up, wake up!" The voice echoed in my mind.

I lazily squinted my eyes, focusing on the familiar face tapping my shoulder. "Wake up. My boyfriend's waiting for us outside. We have to hurry." Amelia's soft voice finally roused me.

Stunned, I stared at her for a moment. "You came back for me?"

"Do you really think I'd believe the husband nonsense? I knew you were kidnapped. Come on, let's leave before someone shows up."

I felt a rush of emotion and gratitude for having someone who listened, someone willing to help me.

I slipped on some bathroom slippers, wincing with every step as we hurried down the empty halls, descending the stairs. The last floor was pitch black as we cautiously navigated our way toward a glass door that didn't resemble the main entrance.

The eerie stillness of the house struck me; it was unusually quiet. There were no lurking men with wires. The house was utterly deserted as we followed the path to my escape. Either the men were asleep or preoccupied with something more important than supervising the girl they had kidnapped. We were fortunate to slip out of the building without encountering any obstacles.

As soon as we stepped outside, we quickened our pace down what I believed was a golf course, heading toward the dark expanse of the forest.

Glancing back at the mansion far behind us, I paused to catch my breath, resting my palms on my knees as I inhaled and exhaled laboriously. My foot throbbed. Everything hurt. "Brad is just a minute ahead. Hold on." Amelia offered me an encouraging smile and grabbed my hand, pulling me along.

"Thank you for everything, Amelia," I said, gripping her hand tightly as we dashed into the shadows of the woods.

I was exhausted. I lacked the energy to keep going, and the anxiety of escaping weighed heavily on me as we approached a car parked in the darkness.

"He's over there." We exhaled a laugh in unison and headed toward the 2009 Toyota Camry, which suddenly illuminated with a harsh spotlight.

At that moment, both Amelia's and my demeanor shifted dramatically in response to the scene before us. My heart raced as I heard Amelia's sharp intake of breath.

The spotlight revealed over ten men surrounding Brad, who knelt before them.

No way.

My pupils dilated in shock as dread pierced my chest, amplifying with every heartbeat.

It was a trap. They had let us escape the building because they knew exactly where we were heading, primarily because they relished tormenting us.

I could feel Amelia trembling through our linked fingers as my ruthless kidnapper emerged from the Toyota, a sinister smile stretched across his face.

He glanced at Brad for a moment before taking steps closer to us, shoving both hands into the pockets of his black sweatshirt. "What took you so long? I've been bored waiting to finish this." His voice dripped with malice.

"All you have to do is keep your mouth shut, or her blood is on your hands." His chilling words replayed in my mind as I stared at the man who held all the power over us.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I'm so sorry, please, I'm sorry." Amelia's voice cracked as she begged. "Please don't hurt him." She glanced at her boyfriend, who looked utterly worn down, as if they had tortured him before we arrived.

Furrowing his brow, the merciless kidnapper exhaled. "You signed a non-disclosure agreement, yet you did the one thing I warned you five times to avoid." He growled, his voice low and menacing.

"I'm sorry," she cried, shaking her head in despair.

"Hurt me instead. She didn't want to do it. She's innocent. Hurt me instead." I stepped forward to confront the heartless man, ready to accept any consequences to protect these two innocent souls who had tried to save me.

"Yet there's no better justice for an innocent man than death." His voice was frigid as he fixed his emotionless gaze on Amelia, who trembled behind me.

"Take me instead." With a surge of fear and desperation, I pleaded on her behalf. "I made her do it. I begged her, even though you warned me, but I broke your rules. Take me." Perhaps that would capture his attention.

But nothing happened in that moment. I was totally useless.

"Then next time, you won't let anyone take a risk for you." He spoke as two loud shots shattered the stillness of the woods. The next thing I heard was the thud of bodies collapsing to the ground in the silence of my world.

My throat closed as I stood frozen, watching the remorseless man with his hands still in his pockets. I was breathless, the ache in my chest overwhelming. Nausea surged in my throat, and my body began to tremble.

He didn't. They didn't. They couldn't have.

Slowly, I turned my gaze next to his shoulder, to the lifeless body lying in the spotlight. I leaned closer to the figure I had known for mere hours, the only kind soul who had attempted to help me, now sprawled in a pool of blood in the middle of the dark forest. "You killed them," I muttered, my voice choked with disbelief.

I heard his footsteps drawing near, but my legs felt anchored to the ground as I watched Amelia, helpless, lying in her own blood, her eyes wide open. "Now their blood is on you, Cheryl Mason." He whispered in my ear.

***

I struggled to recall anything accurately after being seized by a massive man and tossed into a car. I knew the vehicle was in motion, but I felt utterly frozen. All I could hear was, "Now their blood is on you, Cheryl Mason." All I could see was Amelia's lifeless body, sprawled in the cold blood in the woods.

I couldn't cry, nor could I utter a single word. At that moment, nothing could help me. The more I protested, the deeper into trouble I found myself.

Despite the surreal chaos surrounding me, I clung to the hope of waking up and discovering that everything that had transpired over the past few days was merely a horrific nightmare, that nothing this brutal could exist in my reality.

I wanted to believe I was lying in my own bed, nestled next to my father's, and that soon he would wake me up, free from this tormenting dream.

When we finally returned to the building, I was hoisted over the man's shoulder, carried up the staircase and through endless halls, passing door after door until I spotted the familiar carpet. I knew I was back where it all began, the inception of my nightmare.

"Save your energy and spare us the time," the man growled as he unceremoniously dropped me onto the familiar bed.

I didn't respond; I couldn't. I had no words for his useless advice. I wished I could tell him to grow a spine and stop letting a teenager dictate his actions, but my throat felt constricted. All I could do was shoot him a seething glare until he closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the empty room.

That's when the tears spilled over; that's when the sobs began. I felt trapped, ensnared by the four enclosing walls. With my legs drawn to my chest and my hands gripping my scalp tightly, I felt profoundly isolated and terrified.

I missed my freedom; I missed my life. Even though my dad was a cop, I had never witnessed someone being shot dead right in front of me. I had never encountered anything as unlawful as my current nightmare. I desperately wanted to wake up. I pinched my arms, thighs, shoulders, and neck, but each time I opened my eyes, I remain stuck in this painful dream.

"Please wake up." I struck my face with my palms, desperately trying to will my struggling body back to my bed at home. "Wake up, Cheryl. This isn't real," I repeated over and over.

The door creaked open. Of course, I had no luxury of freedom. The young man stepped inside, now dressed in a zippered sweatshirt and joggers, his left hand resting in his pocket and his right gripping the doorknob. He looked as dark as his outfit, formidable like any murderer would.

"You caused this yourself. You took innocent lives because you selfishly thought only of yourself," he began, slowly advancing toward me.

Shaking my head as tears streamed down my face, I protested, "No, no, you... you killed them." I think I was trying to convince myself.

He warned me but I went and risked Amelia's life.

"Oh, Cheryl, by now you should know I'm a man of my word, and there are consequences for every action." His words dripped with threat, igniting like fire as he approached the bed, rage etched into his face. I instinctively knew I needed to back away from his ruthless gaze, I wouldn't call them eyes, they were more like laser.

My breathing grew labored. The sudden surge of adrenaline left me uncontrollable, and I began to use my palms to push myself to the other side of the bed. "Do you think you can escape where I've kept you? Are you trying to humiliate me?" he spat, dragging me over to him by my ankles.

A loud sob erupted from my throat, driven by fear of his wrath and the apoplectic fury that drained my will to resist my grip on the headboard. "No... no." My voice trembled as I begged, trying to turn away from him.

But, of course, he was stronger. Both of his hands seized me violently, yanking my protesting body back toward him. The fear was overwhelming as my frail body quaked, anticipating whatever punishment awaited me at the hands of the merciless man looming over me with unforgiving, furious eyes. "Nah! You just made me angrier, angrier than I've been in a while. There must be consequences for that." He unzipped his sweatshirt and tossed it aside.

In that moment, his intentions became chillingly clear, and I understood what the consequences would be.