Scarface sounded as if he were losing patience with me, but I truly had no idea who the hell he was talking about. I didn’t know how I could make him understand I was telling the truth.
“Please,” I sobbed fearfully. “Please, I honestly don’t know him. You’ve got the wrong person. You’ve got to believe me!”
My bra was next to face the knife. To say I was terrified would be an understatement. My heart was beating so fast I thought I’d have a heart attack. I couldn’t breathe properly. My skin was clammy and I was close to fainting as Scarface reached out and pinched my breast—hard. Hard enough to bring on a fresh round of tears, hard enough to keep me conscious. Mr. Knife held his knife against my cheek. I tried to flinch away, but Scarface grabbed my head and held it tight as he laughed at me.
“You need to start remembering, lady, or maybe I’ll let my friend here play a little. He likes his women helpless when he fucks them. Oh, and they always end up dead. Or maybe I should give you a pretty scar like me. Would you like that?”
I screamed, trying desperately to turn my head away. That knife was too close, too sharp. Scarface hit me again and this time I fell onto the floor. They both laughed. Scarface grabbed my hair and pulled. Yelling, I somehow managed to scramble to my feet, my hands still tied behind me, as he forced me onto the stool again. The ropes were cutting painfully into my wrists, and I thought I could feel blood running down my fingers. My hands were like ice and yet at the same time they were burning.
“Now, I’ll ask you nicely one more time. Where is Jennings?”
“You’ve got to believe me. I have no idea who you’re talking about!” I screamed, hysterical now as I thought they might kill me.
“Hold her up,” Scarface ordered.
The prick behind me pulled me roughly to my feet and pushed me into Scarface, who held me tight. Mr. Knife slit the rest of my clothes. I tried to pull away from him, but Scarface had a tight hold as Mr. Knife worked his way with the shreds of my clothing until I was naked. I felt humiliated to be nude before them, but I was determined that I was going to somehow get out of here alive. I had no idea how because things appeared pretty grim.
Scarface’s phone rang. He grunted, listened, and then grunted again.
“Take her back. There might be a problem.”
Mr. Knife dragged me none too gently back through the door and threw me on my butt onto the concrete floor. He bent down, grabbed one breast, and pulled. I screamed again as he grabbed my crotch. I thought he was going to shove his filthy fingers inside me, but Scarface called out and Mr. Knife went, but not before he spat on me.
When I heard the door slam shut, I had a new lease of energy and managed to struggle to my feet. Stumbling around the perimeter of the room, I tried to find any way I could get out. But all I managed was to cut my feet on some of the broken glass. The place was devoid of anything useful.
I tried both doors. They must have locked the one I’d come through. The other gave a little but it was too awkward trying to pull it open with my hands behind my back. Anyway, they were pretty numb by now. In the end, I gave up. Despair flooded in as I screamed and yelled. I achieved nothing but a sore throat as I slid down one wall and sat sobbing. I was naked, cold, sore, and extremely afraid that soon I’d be killed.
I had no idea how much time went by. I ached, my face burned with pain, and I could still taste blood. At some point I realized my beautiful bracelet was gone and that set me sobbing again. It seemed like hours had passed and it must have been a while because it got dark and I couldn’t see more than a few meters. It had been around ten in the morning when I was taken. The door opened again and they were back.
Once more they dragged me into that room. This time, Scarface picked me up and pushed me onto a dirty table. He had a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth.
“Now, bitch, unless you want my friend here to have his fun, I suggest you talk. I’m through being nice.”
Through being nice!
I sobbed hysterically, terrified at what he might do. “I don’t know him.”
The next ten minutes were the worst of my life as he pulled me upright until I was sitting on the edge of the table.I struggled but against these two it was useless. Scarface took a drag on his cigarette and jabbed it into the tender flesh of my labia.Intense pain jolted up my body as he slapped my face, my breasts, between my legs. It was as if my body were on fire as he systemically punched and slapped me.
Scream wasn’t the word for what I did. I attempted to pull apart the ropes tying my wrists ignoring how much it hurt. All I wanted was to fight back butthe agony of my body robbed me of strength.“I’m through being Mr. Nice. I like watching my friend here fuck. He likes to make them scream in agony. Now unless you like the idea of him shoving his cock up your prettyarsewhile hefistsyour cunt, then I suggest you cooperate. I know you know Jennings. You’ve been seen with him.”
I shook my head. I had no idea who they were talking about until he said, “No fucking way you don’t know the tall, black fucker. Now where is he?”
Shit!
They are talking about John!
This was about John. It must have shown on my face because he grabbed my chin and pulled me forward.
“Now you remember. Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” Desperately I wailed, “He was going to pick me up tonight.”
“That’s better, but I want an address.”
I couldn’t tell them where he lived. I knew how to drive there but not the actual address. Suddenly, I knew they were going to kill me no matter what happened. Even if I told them, they couldn’t let me live. I’d seen their faces, knew exactly what they looked like. There was no way they could afford to keep me alive.
No matter what I did or said, I was as good as dead. I shook my head again as the realization that I only had a few minutes to live sunk in.
I sobbed, “I. Don’t … don’t know.”
“I think my friend here needs to teach you a lesson.” Scarface glanced creepily at Mr. Knife. “She’s not going to tell us, so she’s all yours. Fuck her all you like, wherever you like. Maybe she’ll stop screaming and say something before she dies.”
“No!” I screeched as loudly as I could, absolutely terrified. Frantic with what was about to happen, I yelled again, “No!”
Mr. Knife started touching me, his grubby fingers kneading and pulling at my nipples. I squirmed, trying to get away from him, still shrieking hysterically.I tried to curl into a ball as I kept wailing nonstop, but they both laughed. Mr. Knife was the scariest guy I had ever seen. Even Scarface didn’t look as terrifying as the knife-wielding maniac.He pressed his thumb hard into the cut on my foot, making me yell even louder, and he laughed insanely.
Crazy as it sounded, I’d kind of accepted I was going to die, but I didn’t want to die with him raping me. I twisted, with my hands beneath me, and I tried to push up and away. The ropes bit painfully into my wrists, sending bolts of agony up my arms. Continually screaming and sobbing, I made one last desperate attempt to stop him, even trying to kick him with my free leg.
The two of them kept laughing at my stupid, useless struggles, but then Scarface punched me hard on the side of my head. I literally saw stars and then another vicious punch—it was lights out for Anabelle.