Page 97 of Obsession

“P-please d-don’t do this. Whatever you think I’ve done, let’s d-discuss it.” I’m sobbing uncontrollably as my bladder empties,soaking through the mattress. “Don’t do this.” My pleas stir the shadows in his cold gaze, and he reaches up, puts the duct tape back on my lips, and pats my cheek twice.

Grabbing my thigh, he bruises my skin with his fierce grip. Then, with a final chuckle and a shake of his head, as though he thinks I’m pathetic for pissing myself, he applies pressure to the trigger.

Fiery pain explodes in my knee, and I let out a guttural, muffled scream, struggling against the zip ties. Robbie’s raspy chuckle filters through the sickening sound of the drill as it burrows deep into my kneecap. Flesh and blood stick to the drill when he pulls it back out and blows on it like a gun.

I can’t think through the blinding pain radiating throughout my leg while my stomach cramps with violent onslaughts of nausea. I’m two seconds away from throwing up. Two seconds away from choking on my own vomit. And the look of pure sadism in Robbie’s eyes tells me this is only the start.

Glancing down at my leg, I breathe harshly, another sob clawing its way up my throat. Blood bubbles from the leaking hole in my knee, staining the piss-soaked mattress.

My face collapses, and tears pour freely. I’m so fucking scared.

So fucking powerless.

“Still don’t have an inkling about why you’re here?” Robbie grabs hold of my other leg and pins it down. “Want to hazard a guess?”

My nostrils flare when he puts the drill to my knee. Even if I want to make a guess, I can’t with the duct tape over my lips. Judging by the glint in his eyes, Robbie knows.

He drills again, his fingers digging into my jerking leg as I scream myself hoarse. Searing pain radiates through my bones. Ice and fire. He moves the drill in and out before removing it and holding it up for me to see. Then, as my mouth fills with the tasteof vomit, he tosses the drill on the mattress and shoves his finger inside the bleeding hole.

My eyes roll back, and I convulse, choking on my own puke.

“Savannah Campbell.” The snarled name drifts in and out of my consciousness as the room spins.

Ripping off the duct tape and yanking my head to the side, as much as the zip ties around my wrists and ankles allow, he grips my hair and holds me in place. I vomit undigested pieces of carrot and sausage, my stomach cramping violently.

Walking back to the toolbox, Robbie crouches down and roots through it while I inhale ragged breaths through the corrosive pain.

“Just kill me,” I plead, wincing and rolling my head on the sweat-soaked pillow. “Please...”

“All good things come to those who wait.” Robbie unfurls, rising to his feet. I try to focus on the item in his hand, but I’m too lightheaded and delirious with pain to concentrate on anything else.

I’m vaguely aware of Robbie squeezing the outline of his erect cock and cracking his neck before grabbing my hand.

“I found this cigar trimmer in the kitchen drawer.”

I try to swallow through my dry throat, coughing weakly. Cold metal encircles my finger.

“You like cigars and young girls, don’t you, David? How old was Savannah when you took turns with her? Six? Seven?”

I’m swimming in and out of consciousness, and Robbie—not satisfied until I’ve passed out—smacks my cheek to rouse me.

“How old was she?”

“Five,” I slur, my tongue too thick for my mouth.

The searing pain in my knees slowly morphs into a deep, throbbing ache. I’m burning up, sweat pouring from my ghostly pale skin.

“Five,” Robbie echoes in a voice laced with disgust and unbridled anger. “You know…nothing turns me murderous quite like the thought of you hurting Savannah.MySavannah. Who else was involved? Keith, Mark, you, and who else? I want names.”

“Fuck you,” I choke out as more blood bubbles from my knees.

“Wrong answer.”

Snip!

41

SAVANNAH