'If it gets me, it gets me,' he said. 'But I'll go out with a smile.'
A spark fell off the end of the butt. I watched it flutter to the ground. I moved my wrists around, tried to feel the pipe where my hands were tied, sliding my fingers back and forth out of view until my thumb caught on something.
A piece of metal. Something jutting out from the pipe.
The man reached into his pocket, brought out his wallet.
He pulled out a one-dollar bill. Held it up in front of me.
Then he took the lit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly he brought the cigarette to the bill. There was a crackling sound as the lit end burned a perfect circle through the paper.
When the cigarette had passed through, he held up the bill, looked at me through the hole, smiled. 'Peekaboo, I see you.'
He walked toward me, still holding the lit cigarette. As he got closer, the light illuminated the man more. I began to shiver, my bare torso shaking. Then I noticed something that nearly made me gag. Covering the man's arms were a road map of small, white marks. Scars. Perfectly round.
They were cigarette burns. And there were dozens of them.
'So what did Petrovsky tell you?' he said, his voice frighteningly calm.
'I told you, nothing. Leave us alone.'
He scratched his chin, looked at me. 'Hmm…no.'
He took another step forward, leaned down and pressed the lit end of the cigarette against my chest.
I screamed as I heard the sound of burning, waves of pain shooting through me as I bucked and tried to kick to no avail. The pain was horrific. I hoped I would pass out.
Finally the man removed the cigarette from my skin.
Then he leaned over and blew gently on the spot where he'd just burned me.
'That's gonna leave a mark,' he said.
I was panting. I could felt sweat pouring down my body, getting into my eyes. I felt around where my hands were bound, found that piece of metal I'd felt before. I rubbed it with my thumb. It was a screw attached to a bolt.
The end of the screw jutted out from the metal about half an inch. Just maybe…
I slowly moved my wrists until the half-inch screw was fitted snugly inside one of the loops of knot that bound my wrists. I moved it slowly up and down, back and forth, trying to loosen the knot, to create some slack.
The man tossed his cigarette onto the floor, stubbed it out with his shoe. 'I hate to waste one, but I don't think you taste quite as good on the end of a butt as tobacco does.'
My breath was ragged, but I tried to focus. I gently tugged down on my wrist bonds, felt the reassuring pull that the screw was fastened inside the knot. I began to work it more, continuously pressing my wrists against the metal to wedge it in even farther. I nearly gasped when I realized the screw was in as far as it would go. I'd created a hole in the knot. Now all I had to do was make it bigger.
'Do you smoke?' the man asked.
'Fuck you,' I said.
'That's a brand I'm unfamiliar with. But since you seem to be full of answers now, I'll ask again. What did
Petrovsky tell you?'
'He told me your mother's a whore and your father liked to dress up like Raggedy Ann for Christmas.'
The man sighed deeply. I didn't care. The longer we played this game the more time I had. I felt the knot begin to loosen, and soon I was able to slip my index finger inside the knot hole. I pulled down on the screw, worked the loop with my finger, felt it began to slip more. I couldn't let him notice, so I did it slowly. Methodically.
My chest hurt like hell, but I blocked it out. Amanda was somewhere in this house, and even if I did talk, there was no way I trusted this guy to let her live. Rule number one, when a sociopath makes a promise, believe the opposite.
'First time I got burned by one of these,' the man said,
'I was serving time up in Attica. The guards, hoo, man, the guards. They sure liked to have their fun with us. One of the prisoners got out of line, talked back, caused a ruckus at the mess hall, they'd take a lit butt to the guy's armpit. Maybe the bottom of his feet. Something sweet like that. Something that wouldn't go away so fast. At least it would smell sweet after they got done with you. I guess you can see they did a little number on my arms here. Fifty-two, if I counted right, and I won't even get into the rest of my body. 'Course, one time they burnt my arches so bad I couldn't walk for a week. So first thing I did when we got a hold of that place? When us boys took over that prison back in '71? I took a cig, lit the mother up, and stuck it in that same man's eye until it started smoking.'
I heard the strike of another match, and he lit another cigarette. Another Chesterfield.
'Did you know,' he said, taking a long drag, 'that the human hand alone has more than nine thousand nerve endings and six hundred pain sensors? And most of that is concentrated in the fingertips?'
'Yeah, I learned that back in health class.'
'What do you think it would feel like to experience mind-numbing pain in the most sensitive area of your body? Do you think you'd enjoy that? Better yet, do you think Ms. Davies would enjoy that?'
I couldn't help but think about the scars already on my hand, from when a madman played butcher shop with it a while back. I certainly wasn't aching for more.
I tugged harder, felt my finger slip through one of the rope's cords. Soon I was able to fit two, then three fingers inside, and I slowly unraveled the rope. I grabbed the end gently before it could fall, but my hands were free. My feet, though, were another matter, and there was no way I could get to them without Chesterfield man noticing.
Unless…
'See, if you don't answer my question, we're going to find out just how loud you and your friend can scream.
And trust me, nobody will be able to hear you.'
'It can't be any louder than you scream when your 'associate' sticks his finger up your ass.'
The man frowned, again sucked down the cig, leaving a long ash dangling from the tip.
'Come on, dickhead,' I said. 'Let's see what you got.'
The man looked at me, pissed off and confused. 'Let's see if you're this much fun in a minute.'
He placed the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, then reached up with his free hand to steady mine before he burned off my fingertips. As he raised the cigarette, I took a deep breath and blew the long piece of ash directly into his face.
It erupted in a cloud of gray smoke, and the man hacked and coughed and clawed at his eyes.
Before he could take a step back, I pulled off the bonds around my wrists, wound up and backhanded him across the face. He went sprawling across the floor. The cigarette skittered away and went out.
Frantically I bent over and began undoing the bonds at my feet. They were tight, but soon I was able to loosen them. Just then the man stood up, blood leaking from a cut across his cheek. He had fire in his eyes as he ran straight toward me. At that moment I pulled the bonds away from my feet, sidestepped the man and shoved his head against the metal pipe. There was a sickening thud as he bounced off it, then crumpled to the floor in a heap.
I was wobbly standing up. I heard a grunt, saw the man begin to push himself up. There was hatred in his eyes. I didn't hesitate.
I ran forward and kicked him in the head as hard as I could. The breath left him as he lay there, motionless.
As I tried to get the blood flowing back to my feet, I noticed the glint of metal coming from a key ring in his pocket. There were three keys on it. I picked it up, ran for the door. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. I took turns inserting each key inside, and on the third one it clicked home.
I twisted the knob, opened the door and prayed Amanda was all right. I glanced back, saw the man unmoving but still breathing steadily. Then I braced myself for whatever horrors awaited in the rest of this house.
But when I ran up the stairs to the main floor, I was shocked to see that I wasn't being held in some
