“I’m bringing her back,” I state, walking over to him. “And I promise you that I’ll do whatever it takes.”
He reaches out and grips my shoulder, nodding his head. “I know.”
_______________
Derek and I are cruising down the dark interstate on our way toward Death Valley when my cell beeps, alerting me of a message.
“Who is it?” I ask him.
He picks it up from the cupholder and reads over it. “It’s a video in a group chat. Says Our Little Doll.”
I veer off the side of the road to the shoulder. Cars behind me lay on their horns. I slam on the brakes, yank on the e-brake and snatch it out of his hands, pressing play.
It’s a brightly lit room, and I have a moment of hope that they’re at Death Valley due to the concrete walls and floor. It’s on the smaller side, but I’ve definitely never seen it before. But that doesn’t mean much because Death Valley is massive. There are places that we just don’t go to party. Buildings that haven’t seen a human being since it closed down all those years ago.
Whoever is holding the phone, I’m guessing Steve, walks up to the center of the room. There’s a chair there, and Henley sits in it. Her wrists are tied behind her back, and the rope is secured to the chair. Her legs are spread wide in order for each ankle to be tied to the two front legs.
Her head is forward, her long, dark hair covering her face, and she’s dressed in what looks like pajamas.
“What the fuck?” Derek whispers.
Scout walks into the center of the room, coming to stand in front of her. He smiles, reaching out and touching her face.
She jerks away from him, but he grips a handful of her hair and pulls her head back, allowing me to see her face. It’s red and splotchy. Her eyes look swollen, and she has a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Her heavy breathing fills the small room as he stands beside her, still gripping her hair.
“See, Law.” He runs his knuckles down the side of her face, and she squirms to pull away from him unsuccessfully. “This is how you play with a toy.” His free hand comes up to her face, and he pinches her nose, restricting what little air she has left.
She struggles in the chair. Her body fights to breathe as she screams out behind the tape. Her back arches, her ass comes up off the chair as much as it can as her body begs to breathe.
He lets go and rips the tape off. Leaning forward as much as she can, she’s gasping for air and begins crying.
I watch him. He walks over to a small metal table and picks up a glass.
“Fuck,” Derek hisses, shifting in the passenger seat.
Scout walks back over to her and grips her face, “No … please …” He shoves it back, prying her mouth open, and pours it down her throat, interrupting her pleas. She coughs, sputters, and cries. He steps back once the cup is empty.
Her cries grow to sobs, and her now wet body trembles.
He rips his shirt up and over his head and walks back over to her. “Let’s clean this up.” He wipes her face with it.
She shakes her head and shouts. “Don’t touch me! You piece of shit murderer!”
Once he’s satisfied, he steps back and waits. You can tell this was filmed earlier because they’ve paused it for time to pass. Then when they started filming again, you see her body slumped into the chair. Her head leaning to the side and her eyes heavy. Her breathing even as her chest slowly rises and falls.
“Now watch.” He rips off a new piece of tape and places it over her lips. She lifts her hips, a mumbled moan coming from behind it. He brushes the wet hair gently off her face to give the camera a better view.
Then he pinches her nose, restricting her air once again. This time, she doesn’t fight it. She sits there, head back and wrists tied behind her back, accepting this fucked-up game he’s playing with her.
I watch helplessly as her chest starts to convulse from not getting air. Her face starts turning blue. Then he lets go and removes the tape once again.
She gasps for air, sinking into the chair, and I let out a long breath. I’m going to fucking murder him. My hands shake as I hold my cell.
He walks over to the camera with a smile on his face. “One more thing. Everything you do to me, Steve will do to her.”
My jaw tightens.
“What?” Derek tilts his head.
Scout holds his hands out wide. “I’m giving you choices, Law. Whichever you decide is on you.” Then the video stops.
I drop the phone into my lap and run my hands through my hair, feeling my heart pound in my chest. How long ago was that taken? How many times has he done it? Is she having a bad trip like Derek explained? If so, what is she seeing? Feeling? Does she think I’ve given up on her?