Make You Beg

What’s happened? What …?

Law.

He’s the last one I remember seeing. He had a duffel bag and a backpack … He hit me.

Tears sting my eyes. I was so wrong. I thought he would help me. That he would read what I found and realize I was right all along. But he’s in on it. They all are.

The car comes to a stop, and my body rolls over onto its side. I hear a door open and close, followed by heavy footsteps. Then I hear a click of a door. He has me lying in the back on the floor of his G-Wagon.

A light shines down on me through the material over my head, and I flinch. “Just in time, doll.” Law speaks, but it doesn’t hold any sense of humor or excitement like usual.

Maybe the bastard is actually sad he’s about to kill me. Well, I hope he knows that I plan on coming back and haunting him for the rest of his miserable, pathetic life.

He grips my left arm and pulls me to sit up awkwardly onto my hip. My breathing picks up, and I cry out behind the tape that covers my mouth.

He’s covered all his bases.

I can’t speak, see, or move. It’s like how I found Vanessa on my bed that one time. They warned me all along, but I just didn’t listen.

Then I’m thrown over his shoulder, and it restricts my breathing even more. My hair dangles inside the bag over my head, sticking to my wet and bloody face.

We move for what feels like forever. His breathing never labors, though. Probably because he’s done this multiple times before—carried a tied woman to her death.

“You made it.” I hear a familiar voice call out, and I stiffen.

No! I start to squirm.

Law places a hand on my thigh. “Calm down. You’re going to need your energy,” he whispers.

Need my energy? What is he going to do? Make me a moving target? Give me a five-second head start? Make this a game like it’s been all along? Play with his doll?

A hundred things run through my mind when I’m set down on my feet. Then he kicks the back of my legs, shoving me to my knees. Pain slices up my legs and back. I lean forward, biting my tongue not to make a sound. Not to give them the satisfaction of my cries. Instead, I taste blood.

The bag is ripped from my head, and I shake it to try to see. My heart stops when my blurry concentration starts to focus through the pieces of hair that stick to my face.

We’re at Death Valley. I’m kneeling in the middle of the Graveyard. Why are we here? How long have I been out? The drive alone is over thirty minutes.

I look up to see Mr. Monroe coming to stand before me, still dressed in his tux from his fundraiser. He grips my chin and yanks my head back, forcing me to look up at him. “Good job, Law.” He winks over at someone standing behind me. I’m guessing it’s him. “I like the fact that you put some effort into it.” He presses on my already throbbing cheek.

I yank my face away from him. He laughs and then backhands me, knocking me onto my side, momentarily taking my vision away. My shoulders scream from my wrists being tied behind me. My fingers have started to go numb.

A hand grips my hair and sits me upright. I don’t even cry behind the tape. My body is exhausted. I can barely breathe. Why does my chest feel so tight? Like someone is lying on top of it. Am I having a heart attack? I’ve never had a panic attack before. Maybe that’s what this is.

“Where are the rest?” Mr. Monroe asks, walking away from me.

“On their way,” Law clips.

He finally steps to my right where I can see him, and he drops his backpack. Bending down, he unzips it and pulls out a gun. He places the magazine in and cocks it. The sounds are deafening to my ears in the open makeshift arena. My heart picks up speed, and sweat breaks out across my forehead.

“Hand it to me,” Mr. Monroe demands, reaching out to him.

Law pauses for only a second and then hands it over.

Mr. Monroe comes to stand in front of me once again. He jerks me up to my feet by my hair, and this time, I do cry out due to the pinpricks of pain that slice through my head. His hand stays fisted in my hair while the other holds the cold barrel to my neck, pressing it into my skin so hard I know it’ll leave a bruise.

I breathe heavily through my nose as fresh tears well up in my eyes.

“Will …” Law starts.

“Don’t worry, Law. I’m going to leave my son to do the honors. I just want her to know what’s to come.” He glares down at me. “Funny how something so small could fuck up so much.” His tongue slides across his teeth. “I assume you all had your fun with your toy?” he asks.