“Now where were we?”
The butcher pulls out the knife he had before, making his way back to me.
He runs the blade lightly across my stomach, making it contract, attempting to move away from the blade.
Then he goes to work. He presses the blade in, making a shallow slice, salivating when the blood shows. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the feeling wash over me.
“I’m going to make you beg for your life.”
“Good luck with that. I’m not scared of a little pain.”
He chuckles. “Good. This will be interesting then.”
He makes another slice on the opposite side of my stomach. The pain is a familiar feeling. I focus on it, using it to calm me. I might not be the one controlling it, but the sting is still the same. It’s the only comfort I have right now.
He continues his work as if he is an artist wanting his painting to be perfect. He steps back every couple of cuts, admiring the way it looks.
The pure excitement on his face disgusts me even more than the visible bulge in his pants.
After he is satisfied with my stomach, he drops the knife before walking over to the button he used to raise me. He lowers me several inches to where my feet can barely touch the floor.
The butcher unbuttons his pants as he walks my way.
“Time for the real fun to start.”
Once to me, he pulls out his prick, stroking it a couple of times. He lets go of it only long enough to work on the buttons of my pants. I close my eyes and start talking to God. I don’t know if he’s real, but Hailee believes.
Please God if you’re real. Help me. Take me somewhere else. Don’t let me suffer.
I don’t know if it’s divine intervention or what, but the next thing I know, I hear gunshots. The butcher freezes.
“What the hell?” he growls, backing up and buttoning his pants back up. “Fuck, I really wanted a taste of you,” he says with longing as he picks up his knife.
Leaning in, he presses a kiss to my cheek. “Seems our time here has been cut short. Sorry I didn’t give you the dick down, I promised.”
Then he pushes the blade into my stomach. I gasp as the pain overwhelms me. He leaves the knife in as he hurries out of the room.
I’m left hanging with my feet barely grazing the floor, my blood splattering on the ground as the knife hangs out of me.
My body shivers and convulses as the pain radiates throughout my entire body.
Think, Willow. You can get out of this.
I attempt to move my hands, but they are numb. Instead, I focus on my feet. I can stand on my tippy toes, but that’s it. I steady both of my feet before attempting to jump to release my hands from the hook.
Blinding pain fills my body as I swing wildly.
It takes several minutes before my body stops swaying. I take a couple of deep breaths before trying again. This time, I focus on my hands, stretching them as far as they can go.
This time when I jump, the rope around my hands comes free from the hook, sending me to the floor. Thankfully, I land on my side. I lie there waiting for the convulsions from the pain to recede.
I don’t know how much time has passed. I can still hear gunshots, but they seem closer.
Sitting up slowly, I take off my jacket and shirt. Looking down, my hand hovers over the knife.
Pull it out.
I wrap my hand over the handle and squeeze my eyes tight. On the count of three, I quickly pull the blade from my stomach. I cry out from the pain but know I need to keep moving.
