THE TORTURED (12 page)

“I released Dana. You and I have not spoken in detail concerning all of what is sitting on this table, or what my intentions were. But I will offer you this; I intend to compensate you for your trouble. I’m considering some things,” Ryan rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as he thought.

“You fascinate me, I find you interesting,” Meghan said softly, trying to lure Ryan into having enough interest in her to consider releasing her.

Sensing Meghan’s interest as genuine, Ryan began to boast.

“I have a Doctorate in Psychology. I do not practice, however. I am rather secure, financially speaking. I find the mind an interesting place to play. It troubles me,” Ryan pulled his hands from his pockets and motioned toward Meghan.

“What you spoke of earlier, it troubles me. I have attempted to shake it, but it continues to bring me to an uncomfortable place,” he admitted.

Meghan looked up at Ryan as he stood before her. She picked up a towel from the table and blotted her cheeks directly below her eyes. She was shocked that she had told Ryan, but at the time, she felt as if she had nothing to lose. Now, she wasn’t quite sure where Ryan was going to go with what he originally had planned. He seemed, to Meghan, to be side tracked. She found some comfort in the fact that he seemed to be thinking about her past and not focused on the matter at hand.

“It troubles me too. You’re the first person I have told,” Meghan admitted.

“The odds…well, the
data
to support my statement, if I remember correctly,” Ryan paused and motioned toward Meghan.

“There’s roughly a ninety-five percent recidivism rate - the rate of recurrence in such acts.  I find it troubling,” Ryan pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and began to rock back and forth on the heels of his shoes.

“Statistical data would be supportive of the fact that he has not nor will he ever stop. For curiosities sake, Meghan, is he a local man?” Ryan turned and faced Meghan.

Meghan attempted to swallow and looked down at the table, “Yes.”

Ryan nodded.

Megan began to cry as she thought of her uncle continuing to do to others as he had done to her. He was not married, and his lifestyle certainly would support him doing so at his leisure. She reached for the towel and held it to her eyes.

“One last question and we’ll move on,” Ryan said as he walked back to his seat and sat down.

“His name,” Ryan said in a soft yet demanding tone.

Without looking up, Meghan responded, “Josh. Josh Volvo, like the car.”

“Very well,” Ryan sighed.

“The more I think about that, well…my apologies, I said we were done, let us be done,” Ryan drew a slow breath in his mouth and looked at the camera.

The money, at this point, didn’t matter. Ryan’s focus had changed. Ryan’s sexual interest, although he had never physically been with a woman, had started on a BDSM website - Fetlife. Discussing procedures, kinks, thoughts and feelings associated with them interested Ryan. The on-line thoughts had led to some off-line conversations.  Eventually, discussions of snuff films began. Ryan had no interest in killing for money, but his psychological background caused him to have tremendous interest in what the human mind may consider when facing death.

The financial gains from the game, when presented to the Japanese business men, were so great Ryan felt this was something he
had
to do. It was not a choice that he spent much time considering. In retrospect, Ryan began to feel compassionate toward the women. As he sat and thought, he attributed it to Meghan and their discussions.

Ryan turned from the camera and faced Meghan, “What are your thoughts regarding me?”

Meghan, still looking down at the table with the towel on her face, looked up at Ryan.

“In general?” she asked.

“In general, yes,” Ryan responded.

Meghan thought for a brief moment, intending on answering truthfully. She considered what she
should
say, and contemplated what she
wanted
to say. Her thoughts toward Ryan, she was certain, weren’t
totally
natural or normal. She started to speak, paused and started again.

“May I ask a few questions?” Meghan asked.

Ryan crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, “Certainly,” he responded.

“When you opened the trunk, when we got here - I felt an odd attraction toward you. The majority of the time I was in the room, I thought of you. And to be quite honest, my volunteering to come out of the room? I suspected I could talk you out of harming us. I don’t know, I feel attracted to you. I know that sounds insane, but it’s true,” Meghan leaned forward, resting her forearms on the edge of the table as she spoke.

Meghan though of her daughter for a brief moment, and realized through the majority of her capture, she had not thought of her daughter consciously. She had no doubts that her daughter was the most important thing in her life - but throughout this period of captivity, she rarely thought of her. She watched Ryan as he repositioned himself in his seat, wondering if mentally separating her daughter from these events was natural.

Feeling somewhat uneasy regarding Meghan’s expressed attraction toward him, Ryan began to rearrange his seating position, and crossed his legs. He placed his hands together in his lap and leaned forward.

“That’s an interesting thought. Let me think. Had I kept you for six months, and mistreated the others, it would not be too odd for one to assume you may develop Stockholm syndrome. It is something that would present itself in about one in say,” Ryan paused and thought.

“I’d say one in about ten. But the conditions of your situation here,” Ryan raised his hands from his lap and waved them in front of him, “don’t quite support that condition.”

“Very interesting. What, if anything, Meghan, do you attribute that to?” Ryan placed his hands back onto his lap and leaned back in his chair.

Meghan shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know that I know. It seems really strange sitting here talking to you about it. Actually, I am kind of embarrassed now.”

“No, let us continue,” the words escaped Ryan’s lips before he realized he had spoken.

He was eager to continue the conversation, but he did not want it to appear that he was losing control of the situation. He leaned back into his chair and waited.

Meghan hesitated to continue, and thought about what to say.

Anxious and eager to continue, Ryan began to speak, “Meghan I am going to confide things in you. Things similar to what you shared. Things my precious mother doesn’t even know.”

Meghan nodded her head, now feeling like Ryan was loosening his grasp of the hold that he had on her. Anxiously, she now waited for him to continue.

“My father, the torturous soul that he is, used to take me into the basement. He would do so about twice a month, from the time I was nine until I was about fourteen. He would make me strip naked, and he would circle me and inspect me. The things he would say,” Ryan shook his head, focusing on the door behind Meghan as he spoke.

“He would circle me and tell me that I was fat and worthless. He said I would never amount to anything because I was a worthless stupid slob. His critical and inconsiderate nature caused me to become healthy and conscious of my weight, but who’s to say that wouldn’t have happened anyway,” Ryan paused and turned his head slightly to look at Meghan as he spoke.

He raised his left hand and extended his index finger. The tip was somewhat square – not rounded like the others.

“He removed
that
with a pocket knife in the basement one day – to provide me with a constant daily reminder to lose weight. He advised me he would remove it an ounce at a time if he had to,” Ryan sighed and blinked his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know where I was going with that. It still troubles me about your unfortunate circumstances as a child. But, that matter is off limits for the time being. Well, let’s see,” Ryan paused and looked into his lap.

Ryan pondered the Japanese business men and their potential reactions to his decisions. He considered what he had done to Dana, and the scheme he had devised - the idea of signing paperwork stating that the women had subjected themselves to psychological evaluations and testing – in his opinion eliminating his risk of prosecution. The longer he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that his plan was not that great of a plan after all.

“Meghan, I believe that we all make a decision in our life that we believe at the time is warranted. Later, when reconsidering that decision, and being honest, we may realize that the decision wasn’t warranted after all. This was such a decision,” Ryan stood from his chair.

“Let’s release the women from the room, shall we?”

Meghan swallowed, not knowing whether or not to believe Ryan.

“Well, come on now, this was
your
idea. I can wait to see the expressions on their faces,” Ryan said as he walked around the corner of the table.

Reluctantly, Meghan stood from her chair and turned to face Ryan.

“I know this isn’t much, but I am truly sorry. I will make an honest effort to make it up to you,” Ryan said as he motioned to the pile of money on the table.

Lightly, Meghan shook her head, “Actually, I’m quite well off myself. I have more than I can ever spend.”

“You don’t say?” Ryan laughed as he walked through the door and into the main room of the basement.

Meghan followed him as he walked to the door of the room Elena and Shellie were in. As he held his hand up to the pad, the magnetic door lock mechanism clicked. Ryan pressed against the door with his palm of his right hand.

The door moved slightly. Ryan pressed against the face of the door again, harder.

The door moved another inch or so. Ryan turned and looked at Meghan as if she held the answer.

“There appears to be something blocking the door,” Ryan said with a note of question in his statement.

He placed both hands on the door and pressed against it, leaning with his upper body against the door.

As the door opener further, Ryan could see Shellie’s hair on the floor. He looked up and toward the bench along the far wall. Elena sat on the bench, holding her knees against her chest with her forearms. She rocked back and forth on the bench, mumbling softly.

“Oh my God,” Meghan gasped as she raised her hands to her mouth

Ryan looked down at the floor and peered around the edge of the door. Shellie’s body blocked the back side of the door. Ryan’s precursory view of Shellie’s face confirmed what he suspected.

Shellie was dead.

This was not part of the plan.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SURVIVING DEATH.

SEVENTEEN.
The magnetic lock clicked sharply as Ryan pulled the door closed. He glanced at Meghan and attempted to maintain a level of composure. He had never imagined the game would have an option of the women being willing to actually kill each other to survive. His suspicions regarding the mind’s natural compulsion to survive was stronger than he anticipated. He pressed his sweaty palms to the thighs of his slacks and drew a slow breath.

“I need a moment,” Ryan said softly as he turned to face Meghan.

Meghan stared, attempting to process that Shellie was in fact dead. She felt, more than anything, sorrow for Ryan. She was sorry that he thought for even a fleeting moment that this
game
could have anything but negative results. She felt compassion for him having received the torture he received as a child. She thought of Shellie’s body, and what would be required next.

She began to wonder what Ryan may be contemplating, considering there was now a body to deal with. Her mind began to race with thoughts of death, killing, and struggling with morality. Ultimately, she didn’t want Ryan to feel that killing her was any form of a necessity to prevent her from discussing Shellie’s death.

“I saw
nothing
,” Meghan blurted softly.

“Stop, please,” Ryan raised his hand, holding it steadily between him and Meghan.

“I need to think. Come with,” Ryan began to walk back toward the room where they had been a few moments before.

Meghan quietly followed a few steps behind as Ryan walked toward the room. She admired Ryan’s walk, which was methodical and precise. Standing perfectly erect, his posture was rigid and formal. Dressed in his slacks, dress shoes, and jacket, he looked like a business man, not a killer.

Ryan sat in his chair and placed his elbows on the table. As he lowered his face into the palms of his hands, he pressed his eyes with his fingertips. As his fingertips massaged his eyebrows, he began to speak.

Meghan quietly sat in the chair on the other side of the table and listened.

“This is nothing short of a God forsaken mess, Meghan. There’s not much that money can’t fix, but money can’t make this repair. I’m having a difficult time determining what my best option is,” Ryan’s voice was muffled by his hands.

Meghan wanted to speak, but waited for Ryan to continue. She could hear Ryan’s deep labored breathing through his fingertips. After a few moments, he looked up from the palms of his hands. His eyes appeared to be filled with intent.

A deep desire.

Ryan studied Meghan’s face, raised his eyebrows, and drew a slow shallow breath.

Meghan began to feel nervous.

“Listen, Meghan. Things have changed. I cannot risk exposure. That is not an option. This is no longer a game of chance, odds, or collecting data. This has become
real
. I’m quite certain, to you, it has always been real. I, on the other hand, have been on the outside looking in. I have been in control, pulling the strings, calling the shots, making the rules so to speak.
Until now
,” Ryan paused and looked down at the top of the table as he lowered his chin into his hands.

“I am of the opinion there are no options. Correction; let me rephrase that. I am of the opinion there is
one
option. There are no
choices
,” Ryan raised his hands to his face, covered his eyes, and rubbed the tips of his fingers along his brow.

Ryan pulled his hands from his face, lowered them into his lap, and sat up in his chair. Feeling as if he had solved a lifelong problem, he became filled with the warmth of satisfaction and a glimmer of hope. He was certain that he had determined the only option that could be considered.  There was no other option, only the last stage of acceptance. Implementation, in his mind, would present options.

“Meghan, we must kill Elena,” Ryan breathed.

Meghan sat up in her chair and stared. She blinked her eyes shook her head in disbelief.

“What? Kill? We? We?
We
must?” Meghan stammered.

“Yes, Meghan,
we
,” Ryan confirmed.

“There is no other way. I have become fond of you. We have a common bond, our childhood. Elena, on the other hand, despises me. I cannot risk her speaking of this. The only loose thread is Dana, and I am struggling with what to do in that regard,” Ryan stood from his chair and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

Meghan began to attempt to mentally digest what Ryan was presenting to her. Killing Elena was not something she wanted to be involved with, but she felt as if she couldn’t reason with Ryan. She felt that this was something that could still go very, very wrong if she attempted to oppose Ryan’s thoughts or processes.

“The problem or problems in my opinion are as follows,” Ryan pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed his cheeks as he thought.

“If I allow Elena to leave the premises, I or
we
must dispose of Shellie’s body. We would become accomplices to murder - as guilty as the murderer. If Elena ever gets caught or decides to say one word, everyone exposed to this is guilty. We would be relying on Elena’s ability to live with the guilt, remorse, and mental torture of what she’s done,” Ryan paused as he rocked back and forth on the heels of his shoes.

“On the other hand, if we eliminate her, that would leave you Meghan, you and I. The only two
in the know
, as they say. That now, Meghan, brings me to this,” Ryan turned to face Meghan, looking into her eyes.

“You will be the one to kill her. It’s the only way,” Ryan pulled his hands from his pockets and turned to face Meghan.

Meghan began to consider killing Elena, and what Ryan had said. Elena could, in fact, eventually be overcome with guilt, and she may tell the authorities what had happened. She may confide in a family member or a friend. If she were allowed to live through this, she would hold the fate of both she and Ryan in her hands.

The risk of prison began to fill Meghan’s mind. Not seeing her daughter, not being an active mother in her daughter’s life. Who would raise her daughter? Certainly not her ex-husband – he was not an active participant now, and she was sure that would not change. Prison, Meghan decided, was not an option she was willing to risk. Killing Elena, considering all things, was truly the only reasonable option. Leaving Elena with the knowledge of Shellie’s death, knowledge of Ryan, Ryan’s name, Ryan’s whereabouts, everything - was a great risk.

Without a doubt, Meghan concluded, the risk was far too great.

Ryan was correct, Meghan decided. She would have to kill Elena.