IMMOLATION: Chapter 14

Samantha's head ached as though she'd drunk too much the night before. But she didn't remember drinking that much the night before...she didn't remember the night before at all. She became aware of the fact that she was sitting in a chair, her chin resting on her chest.

“Ow,” She groaned as she lifted her head slowly, neck complaining painfully.

Red shone through her eyelids; she'd either left the lights on or it was mid-day already. Either way she kept her eyes shut in an attempt to postpone the moment when she'd have to bare the sharp pain of the light. She was in for a long, sick day. It didn't matter, she didn't have to go into work today and she didn't have any plans to do anything.

She moved to rub her neck. There was a tightness around her wrists and elbows and her arm didn't move.

She opened her eyes, ignoring the pain from the rooms bright lights.

She was not in her apartment. Her apartment was clean, unlike her car, and every room had large, beautiful windows that looked out over the city from thirty floors up. This apartment, or the small room she'd been put in, was filthy. The carpet was covered in stains and cigaret burns. Cracks, holes and mold marred the walls and ceiling. Thick grime from years of smoke and who knows what else obscured the barred windows. The door of her room was ajar but beyond was darkness and she couldn't see anything.

Duct tape held her arms and legs in place, wrapped around her wrists, elbows, ankles and knees.

“Help!” She tried to scream, but could only manage a strangled whisper.

Samantha coughed from the strain on her hoarse voice. She strained against her bonds as panic continued to rise within her. The duct tape stretched but held. She tried again. The wood of her chair creaked in protest against her but she didn't let up. The tape began to dig into her flesh, first pulling on her skin, then tearing it.

Samantha gasped. Blood seeped between the tape and her arms.

She stopped struggling. The pain in her arms was not so terrible but as the full weight of her situation forced itself to the front of her mind she couldn't seem to must up the strength to resist any more.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and her chest heaved with each new ragged breath. Her father had always been so careful about teaching her how to avoid situations like this. Growing up he'd enforced them but by the time she was on her own they'd become second nature, At times she resented him for all of his rules and how silly she felt when they made her stand out awkwardly. She'd even begun to break them.

And now this had happened. Samantha could almost see her father's stern look, proving once and for all that he was right. She almost wished she could see him again, talk to him again. It had been so long since their last real conversation.

Her arms ached and she tried to shift them into a more comfortable position. To her utter shock and surprise, they moved quite easily. She slid her arms back again and the tape that had been holding them failed to keep them in place. She kept sliding her arms back, straining at the uncomfortable angles she was having to make with her shoulders to allow her forearms to keep moving.

Sound from beyond her room. It was faint, possibly from outside, but she hurried up nonetheless.

The torn sections of skin on her arms kept getting pulled back open and for once she was grateful for her lost voice. Otherwise she would have screamed out against the pain.

Her wrists slid free. Samantha breathed out in relief and it was much easier to get her arms out the rest of the way. She took no time to look over her bleeding arms. Instead, she began pulling at the tape around her knees. There was nothing for it but to pull it off layer by layer; it was too thick to tear.

Another sound outside her room and this time she knew it was from the same apartment. It sounded like a door closing, though she couldn't hear any footsteps, yet.

Her knees were almost free but the blood from her arms that had facilitated her first victory against her bonds was now slowing her down. The blood ran down her fingers, making her grip slip on the tape and prevented her from being able to pull larger sections away at a time.

Footsteps. Just outside her room, she could hear them.

With a surge of adrenaline, Samantha pulled up hard on the tape and her grip finally held. The tape came free and she jumped to her feet just the door opened. Samantha's father had also insisted on self defense lessons and she immediately went to move into a fighting stance. She only hoped her captor was unarmed.

Her ankles were still bound, she'd forgotten about that, and she tripped, falling forward. Her face connected with the floor, her arms moving too slowly to be able to brace her fall. The chair flipped over onto her back, pulling her feet into an unnatural position. A crack and flash of pain in both feet told her she'd just ruined all her future chances of escape.

The figure stood in the doorway, dark and looming over her. Samantha's tears returned, partly from the pain in her feet, but mostly from her fear. The figure began to move into the room and Samantha looked down, unable to look her captor in the eye. He stepped forward, his finely polished shoes stopping right in front of her down turned face.

“Please,” Samantha managed to gasp through her constricting throat, though what she expected him to do as a result of her plea, she didn't know.

“My dear,” Came an all-too-familiar voice, his smooth British accent drawing Samantha's gaze back upward. “What have you done?”

Tea Leaves knelt down by her side and began checking her arms before moving to her feet. Samantha was in shock, unable to move and so she let him pull her back up into a sitting position in the chair. Tea Leaves tisked when her looked, again, over her arms and he left the room.

Samantha thought back, trying to remember how she'd gotten to where she was. She remembered the meeting, remembered Tea Leaves wanting to ask her some questions. But after that, everything grew fuzzy.

Tea Leaves returned with gauze and antiseptic and he began to care for her wounds. Samantha still couldn't manage to speak. Perhaps Tea Leaves had come to rescue her, perhaps he wasn't the one who had kidnapped her. She grew excited as she caught hold on this idea but her joy was short lived. As soon as Tea Leaves finished with her arms, he reached down and lifted a roll of tape.

“NO!” Samantha shrieked, though still unable to produce any significant amount of sound.

She tried to pull away from Tea Leaves but he caught her flailing wrist with a deft hand forced her arm back down against the arm of the chair. She fought, but Tea Leaves didn't seem to notice as he held her arm down with an iron grip.

“The others won't stand for this,” Samantha warned Tea Leaves, smacking him across the face. He ignored the blow as though she had no power to inflict pain in him.

“Please my dear,” Tea Leaves said, taking hold of her other hand before she could strike him again and beginning to tape it back down. “It is because of the others that you are here.”

“What?” Samantha asked.

“You threatened their safety and so they determined that you needed to be killed. I volunteered.”

Samantha stiffened. Tea Leaves took advantage of her momentary cessation in her struggling and quickly wrapped her wrist, elbow and upper arm to the frame of the chair.

“So why am I still alive?” She asked.

Tea Leaves re-taped her legs before answering.

“I use to make it my hobby kidnap and then kill young women,” His voice was even, his eyes steady, but his body had become unnaturally ridged. “I made a promise to myself that I would never do so again.”

“You said you volunteered to kill me,” Samantha pointed out.

Tea Leaves nodded. “I did,” He said.

“So...” Samantha trailed off.

“So if they find out you're still alive, we'll both be killed,” He fell silent for a moment before nodding toward her feet. “You ankles are dislocated, if not broken. I can't tell with how swollen they are. I'll have to go down to the store to get some ice to put on them if I'm going to get the swelling to go down. Then, maybe, I'll be able to do something to help you with them.”

“Why are you doing this?” Samantha asked. “If you really wanted to save me you could have warned me and I could have gone into hiding.”

Tea Leaves was at the door and he hesitated, adjusting his hat nervously. “Old habits die hard,” He said at last. “And I am weak.”

With that he left, shutting the door behind him and leaving Samantha alone with her renewed terror.