Blackness Takes Over & Blackness Awaits (43 page)

Shannon

The man studies my face for a moment and then leaves without at word. He doesn’t close the door behind him and that may be the worst torture I’ve endured yet. I’m no longer bound and my exit is clear, but I can’t even stand up. I may be able to drag myself, but I’m guessing he’d catch me before I made much progress. FUCK!

He walks back in the room with a half smile directed at me, reaching down to my hands offering to help me stand up.

“I can’t,” I admit. I can’t stand up. I’m dying on my knees as it is. There’s no way I can hold my body weight.

“I’ll carry you,” he says softly moving around to my back. “It’s gonna hurt though.”

“It’s been hurting,” I snort. Does he think I’ve been at a spa in here?

“He went at you pretty good,” he explains bending down. He undoes my wrists completely before hooking an arm behind my knees another behind my shoulders. I won’t be able to support myself making this hard on him. I don’t know if he’ll be able to carry me like this. “Wrap your arms around my neck, Shanny.” I do as I’m told. Wait…Shanny?

Before I can process that he scoops me off the floor and I scream in pain. It feels like every wound has just torn open in synchrony. I’m shaking from the pain and start to gag. He quickly carries me out of my torture chamber, into the hall and then directly into a bathroom to the left. It’s not too big but it has a soaker tub that’s filling with water. He gently places me in the warm bath causing equal amounts of pain and relief.

I’m still shaking in pain, my gagging has stopped.

“Take a breath, Shanny. You’re all right now,” he coos.

“Who are you?” I question studying his face intently now that we’re in a fully lit room. His hair is a little long and wavy falling across his forehead, dark chestnut brown. His eyes are a deep sapphire blue. His face is angular and masculine, covered in a well maintained almost black short beard, and fucking familiar. He’s about Sully’s height and build. He’s dressed casually in a long sleeved navy Henley T-shirt and loose jeans. The demon was wearing dress clothes. I can’t make sense of this.

“I thought you recognized me earlier,” he says with a little hurt in his voice maybe. I feel like I know him, but I sure as shit can’t place it. Maybe, if we met on the streets and not in a torture chamber as I was about to be raped just before he committed murder (justifiable homicide), I could place his face.

“I do recognize you. I just don’t remember who you are,” I admit quietly. My stomach is no longer rolling and the water is soothing my aching body. I close my eyes for a moment.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen that can hit a ball that far out,” he says in a soft almost childlike voice and my eyes spring open. I stare at his face long and hard, and then I see it.

“Nicky?” I whisper. A sheepish grin marks his face. “Nicky,” I repeat in a whimper trying to figure this out.

“Don’t get upset. You’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he says softly grabbing my hand and squeezing it tight. I don’t understand.

There was a boy in my neighbor’s back yard one day. It was in the spring before my father died. My neighbors, Senator and Mrs. Grady, didn’t have kids so I was surprised to see him out there. Being the social child that I was, I ran over to him. He was just sitting in the grass looking bored out of his mind.

“Wanna hit a ball with me?” I ask excited to have someone to play with. There are no kids in my neighborhood to play with (the kids that do live around here think I’m weird). He looks up at me and smiles his deep dark blue eyes shimmering in the sun. He’s probably a few years older than me, but I don’t care.

“Sure,” he says in a shrug. He stands up and brushes off his jeans. “You gonna play in that dress?”

“Mother makes me wear dresses every day. I have shorts on under. Come on,” I say pulling him by the hand toward my yard. He interlaces our fingers and takes the lead. When we get to my bat, glove, and bag of balls, he smiles at my gear.

“You wanna hit first?” I ask politely pulling my hand away from him.

“Nah, you go ahead.” He moves out to the middle of the yard with my glove to shag the balls I’m going to hit. He’s not out far enough, but I don’t tell him that. I toss a ball high and crack it sending it soaring well beyond him. He watches the ball sail past before turning back to look at me.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen that can hit a ball that far out,” he yells back at me with a huge almost proud smile. I beam back at him. I don’t care that he thinks I’m pretty. He thinks I can hit the ball far. “What’s your name?”

“Shanny,” I respond. I don’t know why I told him that. Only my daddy calls me Shanny.

“I’m Nick,” he yells throwing the ball back toward me. I catch it bare handed ignoring the sting.

“Move back Nicky. I’m just gettin’ warmed up,” I tease. He shakes his head at me with a broad grin before moving back.

“Please explain this to me. I feel like I’m goin’ insane,” I plead.

“That was the best five hours of my life, playin’ with you. I never forgot that day. I can remember every single detail of it,” Nicky says softly. His voice is slightly gravelly and deep, not a little boy anymore. “I was there that day with my uncle, Vito Mancini. I barely spent time with him when I was a kid but my mom was sick that day or something so he took me out with him.”

“Nicky, this is not helpin’ me understand why you’re here. Did you do this to me?” Please don’t let him be some crazy ass stalker.

“Fuck no! How could you think that?” He goes to drop my hand, but I cling to it. If he didn’t do this then he can get me out of here.

“I’m freaked, hurt, tired and confused. Please just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“It’s a long story and we don’t have a lot of time before the rest of the team gets back. My name is Nick Scarso. I’m an enforcer in the Mancini Crime Family. My job is to extract information from people quickly.”

I pull my hand free from his and turn my gaze to the water. The bathroom door opens quickly snapping my head back into place swiftly and every feature on Nicky’s face changes. He looks like the demon only more petrifying. I cower down into the water further.

“Scar,” the man (who I can’t see because Nicky is blocking my view) at the door calls tentatively. “What happened to Tony?”

Nicky stands up slowly, his hands are shaking at his sides as he turns to face our visitor.

“What happened to Tony is about to happen to you. He got in my fuckin’ way. Clean it up!” Nicky’s voice is raw and powerful. The authority he exudes is totalitarian. I’m officially fucked. They’ve sent someone to torture me that knows me. Okay an afternoon of playing with a kid doesn’t make him an expert in my life, but he knows me. He’s not here to rescue me. He’s here to get this done faster.

“Sure boss,” the man relents softly. “You need at hand puttin’ her under. Tony said she’s a handful.”

“If I ever need help with a buck ten bitch, fuckin’ put a bullet in my head. Get that goddamn mess cleaned up,” Nicky growls and the man scurries away.

I ease my gaze back to the water and wait. He’s going to use this water to torture me. Apparently he’s confident in his ability to hold me under water on his own. Uncle Mick never did water torture training. I’ll have to use my skills from other things to make it through this. He did some water escape training with me the last few summers before I moved to Chicago. He sunk a car in the pond out on his land and made me swim down to it, buckle myself in, wait as long as I could and then release myself. Scary right? I can do this. Uncle Mick made sure.

Feel the burn in your lungs? It means you’re alive, Shannon. Stay alive and you can do anything. Only death will stop you.

Nicky is standing staring at the empty doorway, continuing to block my view. I can hear a lot of movement outside the bathroom though. Moving a body is loud business it would seem. I take the time to focus my mind, concentrate on my breathing. My pulse is even and I begin to take long deep belly breaths, oxygenating my lungs. I won’t have long to do this but every little bit will help. I should have kept up the training Uncle Mick put me through. I’ve kept constant with weapons and fighting but not other things, certainly not water escape. I can hear his voice in my head so clearly since I’ve been here. It’s like he’s with me.

Deep…long…breaths. That’s it Shannon. Try four minutes this time.

I did the four minutes, got up to four and a half. No way can I hold my breath that long now. I keep taking deep breaths to the rhythm of Uncle Mick’s voice. I’m focused.

“Shanny, look at me,” Nicky’s command brings me out of my own head. I don’t comply. If he’s here to torture information from me, I’m not going to be helpful.

“Scar,” the same guy from before calls from the doorway. “Boss is on the phone for ya.” The guy sounds winded. Carrying dead weight will do that I suppose. I keep breathing long deep breaths.

“Gotta move her,” Nicky’s voice is strained and rough. I don’t look at him. I don’t panic.

“I’ll watch her for ya. You’re not done in here yet, right?” There’s a long pause in the conversation and I keep breathing. He’s going to leave me with this guy. Nicky strides to the door swiftly.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her. I don’t want my dick goin’ anywhere near where your’s been.” Nicky’s threat is menacing and then he’s gone. I’m naked, in a bathtub, alone with yet another demon. I keep breathing, deeper than I was. I feel no pain in my back or head, just air in and out.

“Shame really. I’m easier on pussy than Scar is,” the man says with a laugh. Comforting.

I don’t look at him or respond. I can feel myself detaching from my body. My mind is steeling itself in a cage within a cage. Survival is the only goal. I don’t panic.

Shannon

“Maybe I’ll getcha after Scar,” the man taunts. “I’ve heard he’s a bigger fan of ass than pussy, so I’ll workout whatever he doesn’t.”

I no longer have drugs in my system so I feel the familiar Shannon Kelly simmering under the surface. I’m still taking deep breaths and steeling my mind, but fuck if I don’t want to drown this motherfucker. If he would just get a little closer…I could get him. Even weak I could take him. He’s short and skinny, looks young too. I have only glanced at him from my peripherals…yeah I could take him. He takes a step closer to me and I stop taking deep breaths, focusing completely on his movement. I wait for him to touch me. If I can get his wrist, he’s mine. Here the fuckwad comes.

He leans over, stretches his hand out, and dips it into the water. He’s headed toward my crotch based on his trajectory. I bend my knees so it appears I’m being more accommodating. I still haven’t looked at the guy’s face. I’m watching his arms. Then he makes his grave mistake. He removes the hand that was supporting his weight on the edge of the tub to push up the sleeve of the arm snaking toward my body. I lash out reaching both of my arms around the back of his neck shoving him face first into the water between my bent knees. He has no leverage with his legs to heave himself out. I hold down his head and shoulders with my right leg. My left leg is under his body so I lock my ankles together over and under his body and squeeze. This isn’t the way I constrict around the boys when I’m playing, this is strength I didn’t know I possessed coursing through my muscles.

The man is thrashing and kicking trying to get his legs hitched the right way. He’s pushing off the bottom and side of the tub with his arms but their slipping and sliding. I’ve got him. He’s not going anywhere. I maintain pressure as bubbles surface and his fight wanes. This is not a scary movie, I don’t let go when I think he’s dead. I wait and wait and wait, then I check his pulse keeping my legs still around him. No pulse. I killed him. Releasing the pressure I push his lifeless body down to the end of the tub with my feet.

Then I turn my head off to the side, over the edge of the tub and puke. I just killed another human being because he was trying to touch me. I should feel guilty or sad or angry…I’m numb. When I’ve finished emptying my already empty stomach I lay my head back and wait for whatever is to come next. Whatever blackness awaits me I’ll be ready.