Chapter 8: The Fire

Rachel’s POV

My reality came back to me in fragments.

The rough scrape of rope against my wrists. The smell of damp concrete. The faint flicker of light from a single, sputtering bulb above.

My head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind my eyes as I tried to move. The moment I did, something bit into my skin, rough rope, tight around my wrists and ankles. The fibers scraped raw as I twisted against them, the burn sharp and real. My breath caught.

Where was I?

\The air was cold and thick, carrying the sour scent of gasoline and rot. Concrete walls pressed the sound back at me, my shallow breaths echoing in the silence. The dim bulb above flickered weakly, casting long, trembling shadows across the floor.

Terror clawed its way up my chest. I pulled harder, the rope digging deeper, and a small, broken sound escaped my throat. Whoever had brought me here had not just wanted to scare me, they wanted me trapped, completely helpless.

A voice cut through the darkness, making me shiver immediately.

“Finally awake?”

I froze.

A man stepped into the weak light, his face half-hidden in shadow. He was in his forties, maybe fifties, with deep lines etched around his mouth and eyes that burned with something sharp and bitter. His clothes were dirty, his hair unkempt, but it was the look in his eyes that made my stomach turn.

“You’re Rachel Parker, right?” he said.

I swallowed hard. “Who are you? What do you want?”

He smiled, tired and bitter. “Name’s Mike. And what I wanted was your husband.”

My breath hitched.

“Adrian Parker.” He spat the name like poison. “The man who ruined my life without even knowing it. I was going to take him. Thought I’d finally make him pay.”

He leaned closer, and I flinched from the sharp scent of alcohol on his breath which disgusted me, but there was no way for me to avoid it. “But your husband’s got bodyguards. And that woman.” His mouth twisted. “That pretty one he’s always with? She was never not there so I couldn’t get close.”

Marissa.

Her name tasted like a knife. Even the kidnapper knew who was more like Adrian’s wife.

“So imagine my surprise when I found out that she wasn’t his wife,” Mike continued. “You were.”

He stepped back, pacing slowly. “Didn’t seem fair, though. He’s got the money, the bodyguards, the perfect life, a pretty mistress. And you?” He looked me over with disdain, and his tone was even harsher now, which made me flinch, “You’re the one he hides.”

The words hit harder than I wanted them to. I clenched my fists, willing myself not to cry.

“Call him,” Mike said suddenly, tossing my phone at my lap.

I stared at it, then at him. “You said it yourself, I have no worth to him. He won’t answer.”

Mike grabbed my hair suddenly, and a scream escaped me He picked up an iron bar with his free right hand and slammed it into my stomach. My insides felt like they were being ripped apart, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

“Bitch, you know what? I have cancer, I’m going to die, and I don’t see why I have to die alone,” he barked, pulling my hair even harder. “If he’s not coming today, then you would have been the one to die.”

He let go of me and paced around me like a caged, enraged animal. Ready to pound the moment a chance appears. “Call him, now”

My hands shook so badly as I dialled Adrian’s number. The ringing filled the silence. Once. Twice. Then the mechanical voice of his voicemail.

Please, Adrian, please pick up the call. Please call the police. I can’t deal with this along anymore. I’m scared. My palms were soaked with sweat. Fear and tension almost overwhelmed me.

He looked at me like I was already dead, “call again.”

I did. Again. And again.

Five times.

Ten times.

Twelve.

Each call that went unanswered was another twist of the knife. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe. Without noticing, I found myself crying.

Mike’s patience finally snapped. With a roar, he angrily snatched the phone from my hands and hurled it against the wall.

Bang! My phone, my last hope, was shattered into pieces. The sound echoed through the empty space, and then what followed was a deathly silence. I couldn’t even breathe, and Mike, he finally completely lost control.

“How can you be so useless that you are not even wanted by your own husband?” he questioned through the gaps of his clenched teeth, and his eyes fixed on my trembling face. My throat closed. It’s over, he was ready to drag me to hell with him.

No, no, I don’t want to die, I can’t die, I have a daughter.

Think about it, Rachel, think about how to calm him.

“Please,” I whispered. “You don’t have to do this. Let me go, and I promise I won’t call the police. ” I begged, carefully.

He sneered, “You think I am a fool!”

He slapped me hard, and my cheek was radiating pain.

“I swear I will keep silent, I have a daughter. She needs me, I have no intention of doing anything risky,” I rambled on, trying to make my point as clear as it could possibly be. I must fight for myself for as long as I can, for I have not yet lost my ability to speak, to think.

"Please let me go home"

At that, something flickered across his face.

Mike leaned half of his body onto an old crate, staring down at his hands. For a moment, he looked less like a criminal and more like a broken man.

“I had a son once,” he said quietly. “His name’s George. Smart kid. Too smart for me.” His voice faltered. “When I got sick, cancer, they said it was. But George… he never visited. Told me I wasn’t worth the trouble.”

He laughed bitterly, wiping at his eyes and turned towards me. “He was right. I was the one who abandoned him first. So I’ll make sure that I make up for it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You still have time to make it right in other ways.”

Mike shook his head slowly. “No. He hates me.”

“Then talk to him,” I said urgently. “Call him. Tell him you’re sorry.”

He looked up at me, eyes wet and desperate. “You think he’ll listen?”

“Maybe not today,” I said, voice trembling, “but one day he might. Don’t let him remember you like this.” He had a child like me. He loves his child just as much as I do, and I can tell that this would be my final chance to get through to him.

For a long moment, Mike didn’t move. Then, with shaking hands, he pulled a small, battered phone from his pocket and dialled a number.

It rang once. Twice. Then a voice answered.

“What do you want?”

Mike flinched at the coldness. “George… It's dad.”

Silence. Mike tensed up from the crate, his body stiff and his legs involuntarily straightening where his son couldn't see. I held my breath together with him.

“Sorry to call you out of nowhere… I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Mike said quietly, his voice trembling with strong emotions and slightly hoarse with sadness. “For everything. I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.”

“I don’t care,” his son said flatly. “You never seemed sorry when you beat me and mum. I don’t recall you saying sorry before you ran away leaving us to clean up your debts either.”

Mike stared at the phone, his breathing uneven. Then his face crumpled. 

“Forgive me, I won’t make this mistake again,” he broke down, almost begging his son for another chance. But the call was disconnected. He stared at the black screen for a long time, speechless. I felt hot tears streaming down my cheeks.

Was it for him? I didn’t know. Or was it because my last hope had been completely extinguished?

He slowly turned towards me and we made eye contact. But he was no longer looking at me.

“I just realized, this just might be my first gift to him,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.

“Mike,” I didn’t know why I was still begging and hoping at this moment. “You still have a chance if you stop right now.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for the red gasoline can in the corner and began pouring it across the floor.

The smell hit me immediately, sharp and suffocating. I started coughing violently as I felt my throat sear. The ropes securing me to the chair were making it even harder for me to breathe. Through my blurred vision, I saw Mike press the lighter. For a split second, the small flame danced in the darkness. Then, with a soft hiss, it met the gasoline.

The fire erupted around us, orange and wild, devouring everything in its path.

Mike stood in the center of it, the glow reflecting in his wet eyes. “Maybe this way, he’ll remember me.”

And as the smoke thickened and the heat burned against my skin,

Forgive me, Amber. I couldn’t take care of you anymore.

And Adrain, you got what you wanted, you finally got rid of me. If there is ever a second chance, I won’t love you anymore.