I have to get one thing straight coz I've been toying with the idea that maybe, just maybe, my head has been messing around with me again. If I remember correctly, before the lost of consciousness, I had a kettle of boiling water hurdled at my back. I mean, that couldn't be just my imagination. I felt the damn liquid soaked in my shirt and down my pants, practically stewing my skin. Everything was just burning, hot pain. I guess I was wrong when I said it had all been a waste. I had boiled the very same water that would steam me up. But now, I'm cold and shivering. Like I'm in Antarctica or something. Am I dead? Is this how dying is supposed to be? Cold? Freezing?
If I am dead, then this cold I'm feeling is kinda relief. It means I'm not in hell. But nobody tells me that heaven is gonna be freezing! I thought it should be...heavenly. So I can't be dead, right? Man, I can see the headlines now. Nick Carter died steamed up. Not a good one.
As I've expected, I wasn't in my kitchen anymore. If he really wanna get me, he won't be sticking around at my house waiting for the police to arrive anytime now right? Unless of course, I'm dead. I have got to stop thinking that I'm dead. I don't remember walking towards a light or a tunnel or any of those things people who had suffered near death experiences had described in Oprah.
If I'm alive, I need to get my head checked immediately.
I'm in a bathroom and it's not mine. That much I can tell. (So, I'm not dead, right? I mean, you won't wake up in a bathroom in your afterlife right? Right? Argh!) My bathroom is as huge as my room back in my parents' house. And I've decorated it with state-of-the-art stuffs. Hell, I even had a TV in there, just so I won't miss any superbowl while cleaning myself, ya know? Okay, too private now, let's move along.
So anyway, I'm in a not so fanciful bathroom and I'm in the bathtub, immersed in ice cubes up to my neck. (That'd explain the cold and the trembles) So my kidnapper is worried about my burns? What kind of a kidnapper have I got? A passionate one? Wait, when did I go about calling him a kidnapper? He ain't no kidnapper coz I am no kid! (Comic Relief, can't help it.) Is he really planning on raping me or something? Is that what he meant by `it's you that I want'? Is that why he wanted to heal my burns? So that he can continue to start to his next move? If that's the case, I'm glad to have these burns. And on that note, I should really be getting out of this tub, I'm not gonna let the ice heal me, so he won't touch me then.
I placed my hands on each side of the tub and pushed myself up. Damn, I'm hurting so bad. This is gonna take forever! This is something you wouldn't wanna do when you're hurt so let this be a lesson to all of you- I let myself concentrate on the pain.
Integrating them to different parts of my body. So far, the head is spinning and my eyes felt like they're gonna popped out anytime now. Must have been for the head slam I did on the wall, or that of the floor. Then my back started to burn. No surprise there. The length of my arm red like boiled lobsters. (Yes, I have ugly imaginations. Don't worry, I hate myself too right now) When I finally got to stand on my own two feet again, a whole new set of pain shot up the right side of my ribs. I don't think I've broken it though, I didn't hear any cracks when I fell earlier on and I damn sure won't be standing if it is. My vision blurred for a second, I felt my legs began to cave in. I really wanted to give in. I really wanted to succumb to my own weakness, but the thoughts of the possibility of being rape by a guy gave me all the motivation to compensate the pain. Soon, I was out.
One problem though-I had miraculously lost all my attire. I scanned the entire bathroom but couldn't find my clothes anywhere. But being the passionate asshole that he is, he had left me some humility and spared my boxers. Jeez, that helps, thanks a lot! Please note the sarcasm in this one, thank you.
How am I supposed to escape in this? The burn was still there, the pain felt like my ex-girlfriend- a bitch. Did I mention that I'm feeling very, very, dizzy? Yeah, note that one too. My legs threatened to cave in all the time but I always made sure that I have something to hold on to. Not that I'd like that either. Everything I touched felt slimy and yucky. My whole body was throbbing in pain and I'm trembling like a girl. (No offence there). I have got to stop paying attention to all these wars that's raging in my body. I could drive myself insane. Seriously, I can.
Finally, I got myself to the door. I peeked through the tiny opening and realized that I was in some kind of a cheap motel. How I know that? We stayed in this kind of places when the group just started. That was like ten years ago. I feel so old now.
How did he even get me in here without raising anyone's suspicions? Did he tell some tattooed-clad guy behind the counter (no offence AJ, buddy!) that I'm his cheap slut or something? Man, that would be so degrading. Didn't he recognize me? Oh wait, there's a big chance that he might not have the Backstreet Boys as his ideal choice of music.
The room was sparsely decorated and I couldn't see anyone there. All these I noticed while my body protested against the idea of me even standing up. I waited for a few seconds more, just to make sure that I am really alone. What kind of a kidnapper leaves his kidnappee? (Er, is that even a word? Like Trainer and Trainee? I don't know. Who cares?) I praised myself for that. Coz no sooner than I thought I was safe and on my way to freedom if could get to the front door, I saw him. The Bastard who did this to me. And he was without his mask. A bonus? Maybe. My body trembled involuntarily. The sight of him sickened me. I have fear controlling my mind and I have no fucking idea how to fight this.
He was packing his stuffs. Does it really matter what it is that he was packing? I don't care. I forced my eyes to stay on his face. Brown hair that matched his eyes. It was surprisingly kept short and smart, tanned face, like Howie's. He dresses smart for a...(okay, lost for words now, so I have no choice but to use this! Note to self: dictionary is always good for enhanced vocabulary) kidnapper.
The sudden pain on the right side of my ribs sent my hand clutching my body, my eyes and attention diverted to me now. My hand felt something rough and crusty running down the length of my right side. Being stupid, I tried to scratch it and was awarded by a whole new set of pain. Thanks for the refreshment.
My head dropped down to my waist, my eyes searching for the cause of this pain. Every bit of thoughts of guessing that the man wants me for his sexual fantasies was now thrown out the window. Forget about that. This is something else. I don't know what to make out of this new discovery I found.
I have to get out of here! My brain finally getting the message. I hope my limbs are receiving the same message too. Coz if they don't we're not going anywhere. I looked around the bathroom and my eyes found the window. It's big enough for my body to go through, the only problem is that it's kinda high. And I'm still contemplating on whether it would be a good idea to wander around the street with only my boxers on.
My legs moved towards the toilet seat before I even think of a plan. I forced myself to climb up the fungi-infested toilet and ignored the burning shot of pain that ran up my right side. Or at least, I think I tried. Thanks to all the calcium from all the milk I drank for this height. I reached the window easily. Unlatch the er...latch, and pushed the window up. A gust of wind blew pass my face, sending new shivers down my spine. Now left the problem of how to get myself out.
Should I go head first or legs? Should I be facing upward or downward? I studied the surrounding outside and thank my lucky stars for having this room on the ground floor. Wouldn't wanna go flying down now do we?
So I decided on going head first and facing upward. I figured if I go head first, I have my arms to support and pull me out and if I ever need to rest, I know I won't be putting any extra pressure on my right side.
I put my head out first and then, gripping the windowpane with my hands, I pulled myself out. So far, so good. I was halfway through when I heard the door creaked open. I glanced back inside and saw him rushing for my legs. Pure adrenaline. I was freaking out like I've never freaked out before. Beats having stage fright all the time. I forced myself out, my legs flailing, as if pleading not to let the asshole get hold of it.
Before long, I felt his rough hands grabbing my legs. I kicked as hard as I could, hoping that I kick his fucking head and left him brain damage or something. But the grip grew stronger. I am not going back in there. No way. Either I get out of here or he kills me. I don't care. I am not going back. I gave another hard kick and I felt his grip loosen. He faltered back and I took the opportunity to push myself further. He went silent for a while, and when he returned, I found myself screaming.
He had dug his fingers into the right side of my body. The wounded side. I felt my blood rushing out of my body, trickling down my body but I still pushed myself out. He let go of his grip when he realized I was about to jam his hands in between my body and the window. Tears streaking down my face, I continued. Then came the second shock.
I don't have to see it to know what it was that had struck me. He stabbed my thigh. I screamed one more time. No, many time in fact. Is this motel empty or full with deaf people? Oh man! Maybe they thought it was just another couple having wild, monkey sex and her partner is screaming out in ecstasy or something. I can't believe I'm thinking about this right now.
I felt him pulling out the knife and I continued my quest to get out of there. Just a little bit more. I know I can do this! He didn't try to pull me back or whatever, so I figured he had given up. Or he had left the room just to greet me outside when I freed myself. My thoughts-they are very comforting these days...yes, I was being sarcastic. Then, the third shock came.
He stabbed my other thigh. Another scream. Or two. Or more. Another plea ignored. I'm gonna sue this motel once I get away from here.
I felt him pulling out the knife again and I made my final escape.
I don't know where I got the strength but I got up and ran. (Okay, more like dragging myself.) My right side was bleeding from the re-opened wound and my legs were bleeding from the stabs on my thighs. I was in my boxers, my back and hands scorched red from the burn, and my blonde tousled hair wet and matte and had some streaks of blood in it. I was screaming at the top of my lungs in an empty car park, crying for help, hoping that my mixed up words and cries made sense. Oh yeah, I was a sight to behold.
I dropped to my knees, scraping my bare skin on the rough ground in the process. I gave out another cry for help before my body fell to the ground for the second time that night. I just hope that my cries wouldn't go to waste and that someone actually saw or hear me and is kind enough to help.
I need someone to find me before he does or before I die. Whichever comes first.
Chapter 3
Previous
Contents