Serial- Part 32

For the first time, something her captor had said piqued Marie’s curiosity. “Like her”. The words had been uttered with so much venom it felt like an electric charge crackling through the air. You took my eye, you bastard. I’m going to take whatever I can from you and I refuse to give you what you want! You won’t hear me scream, she thought.

            “Who’s 'her'? Does someone have mommy issues? Are you just another Norman Bates?”

For spite, Marie mimicked the musical score from Psycho. Furious, he spun around with his blade clenched in a tight fist. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling.

            “I know what you’re trying to do, pet, and it won’t work. Instead, I’m going to make you beg for death long before you receive it. Now, let’s see…what would cause you the most pain?”

Marie steeled her nerves, vowing that he would never again see her fear. She listened, expecting to hear the hiss of his blowtorch but it didn’t come. She resisted the urge to open her good eye to see what he was doing. No, he’ll get no such satisfaction from me. She was giving herself a silent pep talk when the pain hit. Despite her vow, the screams came, loud and long until stuffed a rag in her mouth then covered it with tape.

            “Just shut up, would ya? You’re giving me a headache.” Laughing, he added another strip of duct tape before continuing. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I warned you. This is only the beginning.”

The muscular curve of her calf, severed from the bone, was set to rest in a container. Without the cauterizing effect of a heated knife, blood gushed from the wound so he quickly ripped through her Achilles tendon before grabbing his ever-present torch. He cranked it up until the flame burned blue then watched as the flames hungrily licked at her flesh and boiled the puddle of blood. Once he was satisfied that the wound was sealed, he left Marie alone with her agony.

    His foot falls retreated from the room and up the stairs. After he stripped off the outer layers of skin from the chunk of flesh, he dropped the prepared piece of meat into a slow-cooker. Seasonings, herbs, carrots, onions, garlic, potatoes, and mushrooms all found their way into the crockery. The outer skin was tossed to his dog who'd sat patiently waiting for his portion. 

            “Sorry, boy,” he said, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “I don’t have any more for you right now but tomorrow we are going to eat well. Yes, we are.”

The dog covered his master’s face with kisses while, downstairs, Marie’s anguished sobs were smothered inside the gag.

    Marie forced her good eye to open, refusing to allow her body to shut down this time like she’d done before. She knew she needed to figure a way out of there or he’d take her apart, piece by piece. Think, Marie, think. There has to be something, some way to get out of here. Metal bit into the tender flesh of her wrists and ankle every time she tried to lift herself up from the table. She hadn’t bothered trying to move the injured leg; it has suffered enough for one night. On the next try, she managed to raise herself up enough that she could see the key for her cuffs on his workbench—right beside the blow torch. I’d love to get my hands on that thing and burn some of his key appendages right off!