My nightmare motions for me to descend the ladder and I slowly comply, lowering myself to my belly and dropping my legs off the edge. My sweating palms slip on the metal as I go down, my terror a writhing ball in my stomach. Now that I have decided that I want to live the last thing I want is to fall.
I can’t believe that I was ready to jump just moments ago.
The man keeps plenty of distance between us, as if I would be strong enough to pull him off the ladder above me. I'm not even going to try it. I don’t want to touch him under any circumstances.
As I climb past the windows on the floor I escaped from I can hear voices and fighting coming from somewhere close. The sounds bolster my courage, and for the first time since I came face to face with my mother’s killer, I have real hope that I might survive this.
“Hurry up.” The words are hissed right above me. He’s close enough that he can reach down and grab me. Or push me if he wants to. I glance up and see him pointing to a balcony with an open glass door. I swing my leg over the rickety safety railing and do as I'm told, knowing that Travis must be close.
He is still a few rungs up the ladder as I approach the open door. Just a few more steps. I suck in a deep breath, slamming the door closed and flipping the latch, locking it behind me. From the corner of my eye I see my captor jump onto the balcony and slam against the door. I run through the apartment, and fling open the front door. The hallway is empty.
“Travis!” I scream his name as loud as I can. So loud that it hurts my throat, hurts my ears. I open my mouth, preparing to do it again when there is the sound of smashing glass from behind me. Seconds later a massive hand grabs my throat, lifting until my feet are dangling before I’m thrown to the floor. His massive weight follows me down, before he lifts me by the neck and crashes my he
ad into the floor again.
I’m too dazed to fight him off. I can't breathe.
I can't breathe!
My hands scramble at where his are tight around my throat, scratching and pulling as I fight and thrash my legs as I try to escape his punishing grip..
Laughter rings in my ears. He is laughing. Actually laughing.
It's a dark, sinister sound that rings in my ears. Even in my worst nightmares, the smiling man didn't sound like this. He is taking so much pleasure in my fear, in watching me die. I am dying.
I gasp again, squeezing my eyes shut because I can't bear to watch him laugh while he kills me.
Black spots dance behind my eyelids followed by blinding white. I know I'm about to pass out and when I do this will be over. He will finish strangling me. My mind desperately searching for a plan, I force my hands to still and to let go of his wrists. He likes my struggles, so I go limp beneath the assault. Almost immediately, his hands loosen and I drag a painful breath into my oxygen-deprived lungs. I can still feel the brutal grip of his fingers against my abused flesh.
More laughter fills my ears as he tenderly strokes my face. It feels disgusting. He’s playing with me like a cat with a mouse. The thought fills me with a rush of adrenaline, making me nauseated, and I swallow the hot rush of saliva that fills my mouth.
“There's a good girl,” he murmurs as he lifts me into his arms. I dangle loosely in his grasp trying to catch my breath, thinking about fighting. About how I can push him to kill me and get it over with. I’m scared of what he will do to me if he has enough time. I can still hear the muffled sounds of fighting overhead, and tears slip from my eyes and into my hair as he carries me. He’s so close…
Over and over I tell myself, “Travis is coming. Travis is coming.”
The smiling man whispers directly into my ear, “Not in time.”
I can’t stop the sob that rips from my tortured throat. I didn’t realize I was saying the words out loud. “He will come,” I croak out, forcing my eyes to open and look into his. “And he's going to kill you,” I finish, digging up the tattered remnants of my courage.
If I'm going to die today, I won't be a sniveling baby about it. I'm going to fight him every way I can. Even if it’s only with my words.
That's what I tell myself anyway as he sets me in a wooden chair, cuffing my hands to the spindles behind my back. I stifle a cry as pain lances through my already injured shoulder. That’s when I see the small table beside me. I lash out with my feet, not wanting him to restrain them. I don't know what even half of the items laid out there are, but every single one of them looks designed to make me suffer.
My foot makes solid contact with his abdomen as he grapples with my flailing legs. YES! My celebration is cut short when his hand strikes a hard blow to the side of my face, making my cheek throb and stunning me enough that he is able to shackle my ankles as well. The taste of blood blooms in my mouth, but I’m beyond caring. I have no hope of getting away now.
I tried, but I'm well and truly fucked. I expect him to start hurting me right away, but instead he pulls up a chair and sits down in front of me, his knees pressed against mine.
“So tell me where it is,” he says, his voice quiet and eerily conversational now that he has me subdued.
“Where is what?” I ask, confused. I have no idea what he is talking about.
Travis
We burst through the doors onto the twentieth floor expecting something to happen, but the hallway is empty. Xavier stands ready beside me, his sidearm in his hand. Tension radiates off of him but his posture is relaxed. I most likely would look the same to an observer.
My skin prickles. I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Someone knows we are here. I'd be shocked if they didn't, although I'm not convinced that we are dealing with mental giants by any means.
Anyway, we know they are here too, and now we just have to flush their stupid asses out of whatever hole they are hiding in and get this shit over with as quickly as possible. I need my girl back in my arms, and from the look on Xavier's face, he's ready to put this shit to bed and get his woman home as well.