Things

Dale began to wheel me out of the living room and down another long, dimly lit hallway. Only the doors in the hallway were painted different colors, and they all looked brand new. Fresh hinges, shiny doorknobs and bright padlocks decorated the doors. We reached the end of the hall. The door in front of me looked like that of a solitary confinement cell door: rusted, grey paint peeling, and two small sliding doors made to pass items back and forth. He sat me a little far from it, and began to unlock the 3 locks that sealed it shut. A white light poured from underneath, and as he opened it, the light blinded me and made my eyes water. I didn't want to look.

"Yer gonna sit here. I was goin' to have you come in, but I don't think that would make you a happy camper, am I right?" I nodded.

He walked inside, pulling me a little closer to the door, and slammed it. The small window slid open at the bottom, making me eye level with the 'show' he was about to put on. I didn't want to watch. I knew he was going to kill Andy right in front of me. I looked anyway. I didn't want to be killed for not watching his twisted game. But when I peered inside, only Dale was visible. He was undoing the straps to a chair designed with rusted nails bolted through the seat and the back, making anyone who sat in it...a little less than comfortable. I've only seen these torture devices in textbooks and on television, but never in real life. He walked over to the wall. The walls were painted white, clean from any stains, or blood. But this one patch in the wall was made of the same rotting wood that the house was built of. He unlocked yet another padlock that seemed to keep this patch in the wall shut. Andy...

"Get out here, bitch," Dale yelled, whistling as if he was calling a dog. I heard whimpering. Dear god, Andy was crying and whimpering, too scared to come out. Dale reached in and started to pull something out.

"No, don't, stop!" But my yelling was ignored. But what he pulled out, what he dragged out of that little cubby hole made my stomach flip.

Bright red hair was tangled between Dale's strong grip as he pulled Tammy from the hole. She was kicking and screaming, trying her hardest to break his hold on her, but to no avail. He punched her hard in the face, stunning her. She laid there weeping, holding her again bloody nose. He kicked her in the ribs, the back, and her stomach, making her vomit upward and covering her face. She screamed as it leaked into her nose, burning it more. He walked over to the other side of the room, and I frantically looked to see where he was going. On the wooden table in the corner, sat another power drill, a large can with a hazard symbol, a digital camera, tape, and a metal baseball bat. He grabbed the tape and the camera, putting the camera's strap around his wrist. He walked back over to Tammy, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her to her feet, choking her in the process. He brought her to the chair, but gently sat her in it and began to tie her wrists and ankles. She knew better than to try to break free. It was almost as if she was just letting him do it.

"Oh baby, is this another one of your erotic torture games? I like it," she said, licking her lips and smiling. He laughed evilly.

"Oh yeah, it sure is, you sexy thing! Just relax, don't need you bleedin' all over your pretty white shirt, now do we?" Her shirt was already covered in blood, fresh and dry. Baby? Sexy? Is this a joke? He grabbed a knife and began cutting her shirt down the middle, through her bra, revealing her breasts and stomach. She was already not wearing pants, just a pair of panties and her white tank top. She began to cackle.

"Keep laughin', baby, I love the way your tits move when you laugh!" She laughed harder, but stopped and began to complain of the nails in her seat. She was literally sitting on top of nails that were as long as my forearm. But I had a flashback. 2 years ago, Jamie came to school with weird dots on her legs. I asked her what had happened, but she convinced me they were just tattoos that she was going to get finished. She never showed up to school in shorts again, or hung out with anything shorter than capris. Has this really been going on for that long? Then I remembered the bodies in the basement of the cabin. Most were rotted, as if they had been sitting there for months, years, decades.

Dale grabbed the tape and tore a strip off. He slapped it over her eyes and grabbed a sharpie from his pocket. In big, scratchy letters, he wrote SLUT across the tape. She giggled as if she were excited. He walked to the table again, only to grab the baseball bat. I watched in horror. He walked up to her, caressing her face and kissing her, slipping his tongue in and out of her mouth. He back away, holding the bat with both hands, and lined up his swing. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. He swung at her thigh, making deafening contact, driving every nail from the chair through her leg. She let out a blood curdling scream. He hit her other thigh, sending the other set of nails cleanly through. She screamed again, blood pouring out of her mouth.

"You like that, you kinky bitch!? You like that shit? Let's see how you like this!" He walked to the table furiously and grabbed the can by the handle, flipping the lid off. He began to pour it on her legs. Her screams were unbearable. A thin green liquid began to sear her skin, little puffs of steam rising from her wounds, burns becoming visible. Acid. He looked through the window and pointed the bat at me as she begged for mercy, begged for her life.

"This one's for you, darlin'." With that, he swung the bat at her head, sending the nails through, poking through the tape. Blood covered her entire body. Everything was silent. I couldn't stop screaming. I wanted to run. Any chance I had, I was going to. I knew I had to. But...why did he do this for me? Where was Andy? I shook in fear as he slid the window shut and opened the door. The smell of searing flesh and blood burned my nose and was too overwhelming for my stomach. I threw up again, all over my jeans and shirt. What was going to happen to me? Dale brought a gun from the room, shut the door without locking it, and walked past me. My head began to spin. I heard footsteps, and people talking.

"What the fuck Dale, what are you doing," Zed asked, sounding scared. Boom. More footsteps. Boom. Another gunshot followed. three shots. The house was silent. I realized that my hands were just close enough to reach the wheels, so I slowly turned my chair around with the last bit of energy I had left. I inched my way down the hall, cringing in pain from the tightness of the cuffs, and turned to the living room. Zed sat on the couch, a bullet through his head, brain matter and blood spray on the wall behind him. I looked away as I heard footsteps coming towards me. Dale grabbed my face gently with his hand and made me look up at him. He was crying. Sobbing. He reached in his pocket and grabbed another key, a small one. One for handcuffs.

"Where's Andy? Where is he? Where is he?"

"Darlin'...darlin', we lost him." I began to weep again. He's dead. I knew it. "When we snatched yer friend Nick, he ran off into the wilderness, and Tammy went lookin' for him. We couldn't find him anywhere. He's long gone." I wanted to smile, but I also didn't want to die.

He unlocked one cuff and my arm fell lifeless at my side. He unlocked the other, but blocked my exit. He stared into my eyes, into my soul.

"You're free. You're saved. You've seen what a real person, or persons, is capable of. You will never sin, you will never hurt, and you will never hate, again. This was a test, and you passed. You're free. Now run on home to yer mama, and love her." He stood up, kissed my forehead, and began to wheel me to another hall. I saw the sun through the glass in the door. The front door. He walked in front of me and opened it. The warmth of the morning hit my face. "Go. While you still can."

I ran. I jumped up and ran. I had no energy, I was weak. But I ran. The porch steps collapsed under my feet and made me fall onto the wet grass. I slid and crawled, but I ran. Into the woods. I didn't know where I was going or what I was going to do when I got there, but I was determined to find someone. I ducked under sticks and branches, thorns cutting my arms and face. But I didn't care.

I was free. I was finally free.

But no matter how free I was, there was still something I knew I had to do.

I had to find Andy.