Suffering

The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet.

This is it.

It was finally over. He knew he would sink to the bottom, the icy water filling his lungs. The sweet release of death. The end of his suffering.

He watched as the cracking spread across the ice, radiating outward in a web-like pattern.

It felt like slow motion as his weight became too much for the reduced integrity of the ice and it buckled beneath him, plunging him deep into the frigid, icy depths of the lake.

At first, it felt like relief. The icy water hugged him tightly like an embrace, soothing his bruises and cuts. Then it started to burn as the water filled his lungs.

His torn clothes clung to him, only increasing the feeling of suffocation as he felt himself drift away.

The last thing he perceived before his vision faded to darkness was a delicate, yet strong hand wrapping around his wrist and the voice of the woman that he had been so desperate to escape.

"You won't get away from me that easily."

He awoke with a jolt, his body still not registering that he was no longer in the freezing cold water as he gasped for breath.

Then, he remembered. She had found him. She had pulled him out of the lake. His torture was far from over.

He squinted his eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. He couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything except the familiar pull in his arms. She had tied his arms back behind him again. This time, he was bound to a chair. His brain was now adjusting to the sensations and he could feel the scratch of the ropes against his wrists and felt the same material bounding his ankles.

She had learned from her mistakes. Clever girl.

The door slowly creaked open, the light pouring across his face in an ominous streak as he heard her light footsteps clacking across the hard floor towards him.

"Welcome home, baby." She said, her voice sickly sweet, with a sadistic grin on her face and an axe slung over her shoulder.

"You know I have to punish you for trying to leave me, right?"

She laughs, a malicious sound that grates his ears. He flinches and screams as she brings the axe down hard. It hits the wooden floor with a sickening crunch, only centimeters from his toes.

"You are MINE. Understand?"

Her dark red curls bounce around her pale face as she breathes heavily from the exertion. Her eyes are large and filled with rage as she stares up at him.

If the situation was different, he would almost admire her. The way her face flushed when she got angry was almost endearing. The way her hair framed her face made her bright, intense emerald eyes sparkle. She was a small thing, barely breaking 100 pounds, barely taller than five feet. She was deceptively strong. She wore a tight black jumpsuit that hugged the small curves that she did have, a cropped leather jacket that settled just below her breasts, and black high-heeled boots.

The cute, innocent look she spent so much time to cultivate was a far cry from the truth. It was hard for her to hide her rage, her cruelty, for long. He might be the only man who had ever truly seen the real her. The thought was truly terrifying.

She flashed her teeth in a vicious smile as she pulled a thin long knife out of her jacket pocket. The edges were crusted dark red, likely his own dried blood from the last time she used it to punish him for not submitting to her. This time, he feared, would be much worse.

“You recognize my toy, don’t you, pet?” She says, with a malicious chuckle. “This time, I’m going to make sure that you don’t forget who you belong to.”

She reaches down and rips open his shirt, buttons flying across the room with a light popping sound as they hit the floor. She brings the knife to his chest and lightly presses it against his skin, the cold metal causing him to shiver. He screams as she digs the knife into his abdomen and pulls it down, prolonging the torture. Her cuts are shallow enough to cause pain and bleeding without endangering any internal organs.

“C...”

She smiles and giggles as she removes the knife only to dig it back into his skin in another spot adjacent to the first. She drags the blade through his skin as if it’s made of butter.

“A...”

He realizes what she’s doing now. He feels the blood dripping down his abdomen and the sharp pain that feels like she’s setting all his nerve endings on fire.

“L...”

She continues her assault on his skin, smiling and laughing like a child drawing a picture.

“Y...”

She sits back to enjoy her macabre handiwork. Her name carved into him. Forever. Her ownership clearly posted. He is her property.

She leans down and retrieves her axe from the floor. It releases its grip with a loud cracking sound as the wood of the floor splits underneath it. She turns on her heels and leaves the room. The clicking of her heels recedes as she ascends the stairs, leaving him a sobbing, trembling, bleeding mess in the dark basement.

He should know better than to have hope. He grits his teeth through the pain as the blood pools on his ripped jeans, leaving dark red stains. He needs to face the facts. He isn’t getting out of here until one or both of them are dead...

When she comes back through the door, she’s delighted to see the mixture of tears and blood staining his face and abdomen. He raises his head, looking up at her with sad eyes. “I’m sorry.” His voice is week, pathetic, strangled. The sound of a man who has truly been broken. Or at least he wants her to believe that.

She looks taken aback. The last thing she expected was his surrender. He has fought her ever second since she shoved that needle into his neck and dragged him into her life.

“You are?” She says, her voice almost coming out as a whimper.

“I see it now. You aren’t my captor. You’re my protector.”

Her psychopathic heart swells with triumph and possessiveness. Her toy finally deciding to play by the rules. Now the fun can really start.

She leans down, studying his face for any signs of deception. He can feel the wet, warm sensation of her breath on his face. She grins widely, almost an expression of happiness, although it’s quite difficult to imagine that she is capable of feeling joy, only control.

She presses her lips to his, claiming him in a rough, brutalizing kiss. He fights every urge in his body to vomit and allows her to explore his lips with her tongue.

“Darling.” He says in a low, strangled voice. “Untie me. Release me and I can love you right. Give you everything you deserve.”

He prays silently that his desperate pleas are enough to override her analytical mind. That her desire to own and break him override her self-protective instinct.

Her eyes seem to light up with wicked delight. She goes to untie his ropes from his arms. He breathes a sigh of relief as his arms are finally given the freedom to drop to his sides. He rubs his wrists as she leans down to untie his feet.

He slowly stands, free from his bounds, and feels the cold steel of her knife pressing into his side.

“Don’t think about running. You owe me.”

“My love.” He says with a feigned surprise. “You don’t need that anymore. I see you now. I see the truth.”

She relaxes and drops the knife. She lowers her guard and doesn’t see the rope tucked in his hand as he moves to stand behind her. He reaches out with his free hand to rub her shoulder.

“Relax, baby. It’s finally time to get what you deserve.”

She relaxes into his touch. Stupid girl.

He takes this moment to take his hand away from her shoulder and wrap the fingers of both hands firmly around the rope. With a quick motion, he swings the rope to the front of her throat and pulls it tight, pressing her body tightly against him.

She struggles against the pull of the rope on her throat. She bucks like a wild stallion against him, clawing at the rope, at his arms, with her sharp nails. He feels her nails dig into the skin of his arm, but he doesn’t budge. He puts all his strength into cutting off her airway, even as he feels the pain in his arms and the blood trickling down his elbows. After what seems like hours, her struggles get weaker and eventually stop.

He lays her down on the floor and reaches for her knife. The same knife that she cherished. The same knife that she used on three separate occasions to torture him. To disfigure him. The same one that he’ll use to end her life permanently. He bends down and slashes the blade across her throat.

He stands over her for what feels like an eternity. Breathing heavily. Trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s still alive. That she isn’t going to get up. He feels a brief moment of remorse. Not for her, but for himself. For being forced to take another person’s life.

He slowly gets up and pushes himself forward, ignoring the burning in his muscles and lungs. He has to keep going. He survived the impossible. He has to make it home to his family. His wife and daughter are waiting on his return. He knows they haven’t given up the search for him. He’s been gone for nearly two weeks, after all.

He feels an involuntary gasp rip from his throat when he finally makes it back to his home. He has to close his eyes and pinch himself to be sure it isn’t another illusion. Yet, when he opens his eyes, the familiar house still stands there. He approaches the door, slowly turning the handle. To his surprise, he hears a click as the door opens. It’s unlocked. He shakes off the apprehension, and steps through the threshold. His first step causes him to fall to his knees, an utterly broken man.

Before him, in the living room he’s been dreaming of, been trying to make it back to, is a bloodbath. His wife and daughter lie next to each other on the floor, nearly identical pools of dried blood surrounding them, almost looking like an angelic halo of terror. The brown-red stains splattered across the wall cover the photographs of his once happy family. On the walls, there is a message scrawled in blood. The words that finally, truly, ended him.

“YOU ARE MINE.”