The Dawn of Darkness (Part 24)

I'd almost fallen asleep by the time that I felt the car grind to a stop. I tried to estimate how long we'd been driving for and figured it at around 2 hours. I could hear the driver's side door open and then slam shut. I braced myself for the opening of the trunk. The sound of footsteps grew close to the back of the car and then stopped. I gripped the tire iron tightly in my hands, twisting my grip around the metal a couple of times. The silence was deafening as I waited for the trunk to pop open. Then I heard the footsteps start again, fading off into the distance.

He was going inside of wherever he'd brought me to. I had no clue as to where that might have been. Patrick had never spoken much about himself other than to mention that he had two brothers and was the middle child. His family was average, he'd said. Quite boring, nothing really to mention. I had just let him leave it at that. Growing up the way that I did, I never pressured people into talking about their own families.

I waited for about 20 minutes before I heard him approach again. I poised to strike, holding the iron out in front of me as high as I could. My entire body was aching from the jostling that I'd taken along the ride. My joints were in the worst state, cramped from the position that I'd been in for so long. I wondered if I would be able to swing when the time called for it.

The trunk popped open and I swung out as fast as I could. He caught the iron in one hand like it was a twig, wrestling it from my grip with ease. I'd managed to work the blindfold down and it was hanging loosely from my neck, but he'd taped my mouth shut after he'd knocked me out and I was unable to scream when out in the open air. Getting into an upright position after lying in the trunk for so long rendered me lightheaded. I came within inches of passing out when he leaned in and lifted me out, flipping me over his shoulder. He turned and slammed the trunk closed with one hand as he balanced my body with the other.

I tried to wriggle free from his grasp, but he managed to grab me with his other arm and hold me tight. He didn't speak a word as he walked me toward the side gate of a home that looked like any other in suburban California. The homes built after the 1960's all looked like little boxes, painted in bright colors and surrounded with rose bushes. It was indistinguishable from any other town up and down the entire state. I couldn't put a track on where we were if I was a human GPS.

He kicked the side gate open and hauled me into a backyard filled with more rose bushes and a sprawling lawn. It was one of the bigger backyards that I'd seen. There was a toolshed in the corner of the yard and he was headed straight for it. The door whined as he pushed it open with one hand.

He'd been setting it up in that 20 minutes that he'd left me in the trunk. Aside from the clean chair and small cardboard box on the floor, everything else was covered in a couple of inches of dust. He'd set a small electric lantern on the floor which cast a dull yellow light over the cramped space. He heaved me into the chair and pointed a threatening finger in my face.

"Stay still," he ordered and kept one hand on my knee as he fished around in the cardboard box with the other.

"Fuck you!" I protested behind the tape. His face came to meet mine and a sick smile spread from ear to ear.

"Yes," he said slowly. "You most certainly DID fuck me, didn't you?" He pulled out a large ball of packing twine and started to unwind it, wrapping it around my ankles and the legs of the chair. I pounded on his shoulders with my fists as he wound the twine tighter and tighter. He reached back into the box and pulled out a scalpel. It glinted softly in the dull light. Waving it back and forth where I could see it, he shook his head from side to side in slow motion.

"No, Katie. Don't hit. It's not nice." He flicked the scalpel and cut the twine, nicking my ankle and drawing blood as he did.

"Fuck your nice!" I managed, still sounding muffled and unclear. I kept hitting him, this time landing as many blows as I could to his head. It was hard as granite, and each time I connected, I could feel instant bruises coming to my hands and forearms.

He snatched at my hands, and even as I tried to get them from out of the path of his grasp, he collected them both and pushed his weight down on top of them with his elbow, pressing them into my lap. I couldn't help but to yelp out in pain. As he wound the twine around my wrists, he let his elbow slip and grind down into the top of my pubic mound. A fiery pain surged through my pelvic region. Instant tears sprang to the corners of my eyes.

Satisfied that he had my limbs properly restrained, he stood up and looked down at me. "Awe, don't cry, Katie," he murmured softly. He reached down to stroke my cheek and I cringed from his touch. He slid his fingers down and then stripped off the tape that was gluing my mouth shut.

"I'm not Katie, you fucking psycho!!!" The words burned in my throat as I let them escape. "I'm DAWN!!!! I've always been Dawn! You're hallucinating, asshole! Katie must have been some other stupid bitch you tortured!"

He looked as if I'd thrown acid in his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and wild. He leaned over and put his face two inches from mine. His breath was hot on my cheek. I stood my ground. I looked into those crazed eyes and narrowed my gaze.

"You hearing me now, fucker? Am I finally getting through that schizo head of yours? I'm Dawn. You know me from college. You tutored me. You fucked me. And you coveted me." His eyes peered deeper into mine, swirled with confusion.

"That's right. You coveted me. You treated me like fucking gold. You only think you were ordering my ass around. I know how this shit works, you know. I might not understand gross national product, but I know sex. I know all the different kinks. I know what people like you get off on. You wanted someone to control, and I gave her to you. I gave you a willing little slave. I took your so-called abuse and you came begging for more.

"That night at the hotel? You think you pulled something over on me? You think you had me pegged? Well, fuck that! I assessed your ass in 2 fucking seconds. You know what I figured out? You're a pussy! You're a limp-dicked pussy who can't get off on anything normal and needs to make up his own little world to live in.

"I'll be honest with you, Patrick. I liked it. I liked the attention that you were giving me. I liked knowing that I had you dangling by a fucking string whenever I agreed to your little games. Who else were you going to go crawling to for that shit? You think I didn't find out about your past? You think I didn't hear all of the rumors circulating about how death followed you like a cloud? No other girl in her right mind would have allowed you to do to them what you were doing to me. So what were you left with? Freshmen girls who hadn't figured out who you were yet and would have reported you for the kinky shit I let you do even for just suggesting it to them."

He had closed his mouth and was breathing in and out of his nose very hard now, like a bull getting ready to strike a matador. But I wasn't quite finished yet. He was planning on killing me no matter what I did, so I wanted to say my piece. I needed to say my piece.

"I was your last hope, wasn't I? You'd fucked up with the others and now you were down to me. The girl who was pretty but not gorgeous. The girl who had nice tits and ass but was a size fucking 14. I was pushing your limits of tolerable, wasn't I? When you picked me? You would have been like all the others if I was prettier or thinner or more perfect. You would have wooed me. You would have catered to me. You never would have said a goddamn word about what you really wanted.

"And I needed you as much as you needed me. You weren't letting me get away with the stupid shit that worked on all of the other morons. The ones that were right in the head. Nah, I needed to find myself a truly fucked up man in order to find the worthy opponent that I'd been searching for all this time. That's why we're here, Patrick. You needed me and I needed you. We served a purpose for each other.

"But you know what? I don't need you anymore. Not if this is how you repay my openmindedness. Not if you're planning on gutting me and fucking my entrails or whatever other sick shit you've got planned. I'm done serving your purpose, Patrick. It stops now."

I pulled my head back and slammed by head into his as hard as I could. He fell backward onto the ground, the blow knocking him off of his haunches. My ankles were still tied to the chair legs as I stood, but Patrick had forgotten something very simple. I reached behind me and wrenched the chair upward, yanking the legs from the binding at my ankles. They slipped out just in time for me to look back down and see him squirming back to awareness at my feet.

I jumped back out to avoid his arm arcing the scalpel towards my feet. I brought the chair up over my head and slammed it down on him. He moaned and fell back down to the floor. I bolted for the shed door, threw it open and lunged out into the cold night air.

I'd only run about 30 feet when I heard the door swing open again. I made the mistake of looking back. He was standing in the opening of the shed, aiming a rifle at me.

"Stop Katie! Stop or I'll fucking shoot you!" he hollered at me.

I kept running.

I ran to the house and pulled open the sliding glass door, watching it shatter from the rifle shot. I ran inside and quickly scanned the room. There were pictures lining the walls. Big family portraits of Patrick and what appeared to be his parents and brothers. The family was as white-bred as they came. I looked harder and caught the sight of a cordless phone on a desk. I grabbed it, hearing his footfalls growing closer and his taunting at my back.

"Come back here, Katie. Come on! You know you wanna play with me! Why else would you have called?" His feet crunched on the broken glass. I ran for the front door and turned the knob. It was locked.

In the two seconds that it took for me to figure that out and try to throw the dead bolt, he was behind me again. He brought the rifle butt to the back of my head. Stars filled my vision. I crumpled to the floor. I was dazed, but I wasn't unconscious. I folded my arms behind my back and felt on the phone for the numbers. The 9 was on the bottom right, right? My mind was working out the layout in my head. Just feel for the bump. The bump is the 5, Dawn! My poor brain was arguing as loudly as it could, trying to keep me awake.

He was leaning over me again. He appeared unaware that I had the phone behind my back. "Oh, Katie. You always put up such a big fuss. Why don't you just let me teach you? I can teach you so much." He was stroking my left knee in his hand, slowing wedging my legs open. The barrel of the rifle felt hot as he slid it up into my cunt. I tried not to cry out. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

9. You got it. Now just go diagonal. All the way up and over. You can find it. Do it, girl! My mind was frantic now, diverting its attention away from the pain between my legs as he worked the gun in and out of me. His eyes were completely glazed over in the way that they'd been back at the other house. He was in some time and place other than here. My thumb punched at the other button twice. I dropped it to the floor and worked it under the corner of the rug that was under me. If he saw it, he didn't let on.

"I'm going to get those eyes again. This time I'm going to tape the lid shut. You won't get them back this time, Katie." He withdrew the gun and stood, reaching down and yanking me to my feet as he did. "Come on, let's go."

"Where? Where are you taking me, Patrick? Back to the toolshed?" I raised my voice to just under a yell. He winced and glared at me.

"Yes. Stop yelling. I'm right here next to you." He tugged at my arms, trying to drag me. I leaned back as hard as I could, digging my heels in as he pulled.

"Are you going to kill me? You're going to kill me, aren't you? Answer me, Patrick!" I kept yelling. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the handset poking out from underneath the rug. The caller ID screen glowed up at me brightly. Call connected, it read. Those beautiful 3 numbers standing out as if they were 10 feet tall.

I looked into his face just as he pulled back his fist and connected with my nose. Blood spurted out, cascading onto his shirt. Blackness seeped into my vision. I cried out and fought to keep standing. My knees wavered slightly, but held.

"I said stop yelling at me you stupid bitch!" This time he was the one that was yelling.

Blood was pouring down out of my nose and running into my mouth. I sucked some of it up and spat it into his face.

"My name is Dawn. You're going to learn it, fucker, if it's the last thing I do while I'm still alive."