Page 51 of The Liar I Married
Kill me. One blood-splattered cowboy boot crunched on the chipped cement floor inches away from his cheek.
A sick chuckle followed by a nerve-shattering kick to broken ribs brought back the tremors.
A lightning bolt of white-hot agony shot down his spine.
In a desperate attempt to pull precious air through swollen lips, he spat blood and gasped precious air.
Lungs burning with effort, he writhed like a worm in the dirt waiting for the death blow.
His vision blurred and pain pierced his eyes.
He’d lost all sense of direction, and his tormentor’s peals of satanic laughter played tricks with his confused mind.
Night had drifted into another day of endless torture.
He tried to crawl away and puffed out a spray of red, stirring the straw on the dusty floor.
How long had it been since he walked into the stables?
One day? Five days? Time had become the periods between attacks.
He’d suffered unimaginable torture from a man well skilled at inflicting misery, but he’d somehow survived.
At first, he tried to reason with his captor and gave him the information he demanded, but he’d fallen into a lunatic’s sadistic fantasy.
He’d had no time to retaliate, no time to bargain for his life.
The first hammer blow knocked him senseless and he came out of oblivion into a world of pain, tied hand and foot at the mercy of a monster.
He hovered between reality and delusion.
The mind is a wonderful organ, and his tried to compensate by taking him on trips to the beach with his family.
At times, he floated into another dimension on marshmallow clouds but reality came crashing back with each round of torment.
He soon discovered crying or begging for mercy made the sessions last longer.
Biting back moans and pretending to be unconscious gave the wielder of pain no satisfaction.
Under him, the cold floor acted as a balm to his injuries, numbing the agony, and when darkness came, he’d crawl beneath a pile of stinking straw.
The fermenting horse dung kept him warm, kept him alive.
He’d spent the first hours in captivity gnawing at the ropes around his wrists, using his teeth to loosen the knot, but one swing of the lunatic’s hammer put paid to any hope of escape.
A shadow passed over him. A boot pressed down on his spine, the heel twisting to part the vertebrae in bone-jarring agony.
Sensation left his legs. He’s paralyzed me.
Determined not to give him the satisfaction of crying out, he remained silent.
One more night naked on the freezing ground would finish him, and he’d welcome the release.
A vehicle engine hummed in the distance and Cowboy Boots bent over him, grabbed his legs, and dragged him into a stall.
Straw tumbled over him, coating his eyelashes with dust. Through the golden strands, he peered out of the open door and his heart pounded in anticipation.
A sheriff’s department cruiser pulled up in the driveway and two uniformed officers climbed out.
A female with the logo: SHERIFF across her jacket handed his captor a piece of paper.
He edged forward on his elbows, dragging his useless legs behind him.
Sucking in a deep breath, he screamed through his shredded lips but only a long whine escaped his throat.
The sheriff glanced in his direction and he clawed at the ground, edging inch by inch from the stall.
He must get her attention, and fighting back waves of nausea, he tried again. “ Aaaaarh .”
The sheriff indicated toward the barn with her chin and then moved in his direction, but Cowboy Boots blocked her way and shook his head.
A grin spread across his face with the cunning of a gargoyle, evil personified.
The sheriff spoke again but her muffled words dissipated in the wind and his tormentor’s attention moved back to the paper in his hand.
Somehow, he’d convinced her all was well.
I have a chance to escape. He dug for his last ounce of strength and bucked to move forward one painful inch at a time.
I must crawl into the open . Spitting blood, he pushed sound through his shattered mouth. Hear me. Please hear me. “ Aaaaarh .”
The sheriff flicked a look his way, squeezed Cowboy Boots’ arm in a comforting gesture and then followed the other officer back to the car.
Despair enveloped him, and all hope lost, he allowed the tears stinging his eyes to run down his cheeks.
Footsteps came tapping on the cement floor like the ringing of a death knell.
His cries for help had enraged the maniac.
“How dare you try to alert the sheriff? I own you.” Cowboy Boots spat a hot, slimy globule on his cheek. “It’s your fault she scanned my yard. You are so gonna pay.”
Blows rained down on him, searing pain exploded in his head, and his vision blinked. A strange fog surrounded him and he embraced the peace of darkness.