Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Brynlee's eyes fluttered open once more, and she blinked at her surroundings, her mind still groggy from the lingering effects of the drug her captor had used to subdue her. A bitter taste clung to her tongue and a dull ache pulsed behind her temples, but the pain was nothing compared to the horror that surrounded her.
She lay in the middle of the stained, dirty mattress that reeked of mildew and decay, her wrists tethered to the wall behind her by thick leather cuffs. Panic surged through her, and she struggled against the restraints, the leather biting into her skin as she fought to free herself. The more she struggled, the more the cuffs seemed to tighten, and her breath came in short, panicked gasps.
A movement across the room caught her eye, and she turned her head sharply, wincing as the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through her skull. In the corner, huddled on a second filthy mattress, was a woman. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, her clothes torn and dirty, her eyes dull and tired.
"Who... Who are you?" Brynlee's voice was hoarse, her throat dry and scratchy.
The woman hesitated, glancing nervously at the stairs before answering in a whisper, "Fallon."
The name hit Brynlee like a punch to the gut. Fallon’s name had been all over the news, the woman the sheriff's department had been searching for. The realization struck her hard—this man had captured Fallon, too. Her heart pounded, a relentless drumbeat echoing in her chest, as the full weight of their situation sank in. This man had already taken other women. She and Fallon were just the latest in a line of victims. And if they didn’t find a way out, they would be next.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, dripping down the sides of her face despite the damp chill that clung to the basement air. She felt her pulse quicken, fear threatening to overwhelm her, but she forced herself to focus. There had to be a way out. They couldn’t stay here, waiting for the inevitable.
“We need to get out of here,” Brynlee whispered. “He’s going to kill us.”
Fallon’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, her jaw set with grim determination. “I know,” she whispered back. “But these cuffs... I’ve tried everything. They won’t budge.”
Brynlee tugged at her own restraints again, trying to slip her wrists free, but the leather held fast. The wall behind her was solid stone, cold and unyielding. She bit down on her lip, thinking hard. There had to be something they could use, some way to loosen the cuffs or break the chains that held them.
Her gaze swept the room, taking in the bare, damp walls, the dirty floor, and the scattered debris. There was nothing useful in sight, nothing they could use to cut through the leather or pry the cuffs open. Despair gnawed at the edges of her mind, but she shoved it aside. She couldn’t afford to give up. Not now.
“Maybe there’s something... something sharp?” Brynlee suggested, her voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “We have to find something.”
Fallon shook her head, defeated. “There’s nothing. Trust me—I’ve looked.”
Brynlee let out a shaky breath, trying to think. The basement was too clean, too empty—like he had planned for this, made sure they wouldn’t have anything to use against him.
Her mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, anything that could get them out of this nightmare. The man knew what he was doing. But there had to be a way. There was always a way.
* * *
Brynlee had been working at the cuffs for what felt like hours, her wrists raw and bruised from the relentless tugging. The leather dug into her skin, unforgiving, as she tried to twist her hands free. But no matter how much she struggled, the cuffs remained tight, binding her to the cold, damp wall. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears like a drum.
The basement was silent, save for the occasional creak of the house above. The darkness seemed to press in on her, suffocating, but she kept going, desperation fueling her efforts. She couldn’t stay here, trapped and helpless, waiting for whatever horror he had planned. She had to get out. She had to?—
A sound broke through her thoughts, and she froze, every muscle tensing as she listened. The basement door creaked open, the hinges groaning in protest, spilling harsh light down the narrow stairs. Her breath caught in her throat, and her pulse spiked, fear surging through her veins like ice water.
The man stood in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the brightness behind him. He descended the steps slowly, deliberately, the floorboards groaning under his weight with each step. Another footstep, closer now, then another.
As he approached, Brynlee could see his face clearly now—the same face that had smiled at her in the salon, the face she had trusted. Now it was twisted into something far more sinister.
As Burt approached, Brynlee instinctively scuttled backward, shrinking against the wall, her body curling inward as if she could somehow make herself smaller, less noticeable. But it was no use—he was already focused on her as he stopped a few feet away.
His gaze slid from Brynlee to Fallon, then back again, and his mouth curved into a smile. “I see you’ve met,” he said, his voice smooth, almost pleasant.
He took a step closer, looming over her, and Brynlee’s breath caught in her throat, her body going rigid with fear. She forced herself not to recoil as he leaned down, inspecting the cuffs around her wrists.
“Don’t worry, everything will be okay,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. “I’ll take good care of you,”
She wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stay away, but the words caught in her throat, strangled by fear. Her hands clenched into fists, the leather cuffs biting deeper into her wrists as she tried to inch away from him, but there was nowhere to go. The wall behind her was solid, unyielding.
She was trapped.
He reached out and trailed his fingers down her arm, and she flinched, her skin crawling at his touch.
“Shh,” he soothed, his voice still soft, almost gentle. “You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
Brynlee’s breath came in short, panicked gasps, her chest heaving rapidly as terror unlike anything she had ever known coursed through her. She wanted to scream, to kick, to claw at him, but her body refused to obey, paralyzed by fear.
The man’s hands moved to her ankles, and she felt the panic rising, a wave of pure, unadulterated fear crashing over her. He gripped her ankles firmly, dragging them toward the metal cuffs bolted into the ground at the foot of the mattress.
“No, please—” Brynlee’s voice was a choked whisper, barely audible, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t listening.
She kicked weakly, the last vestiges of her strength draining away with each futile attempt. He shook his head in disapproval. “Don’t fight it. I’ll make you happy, Brynlee. You’ll see.”
The words sent a shiver of revulsion through her. She bit back a sob, trying to keep her emotions in check, but the panic was like a wave, crashing over her, dragging her under. His hands moved with methodical precision, yanking her jeans down past her hips. She writhed in his grasp, but it was useless. He was stronger—so much stronger.
He leaned over her, his face inches from hers, and she felt his breath hot against her cheek. His hand wrapped around her throat, not tight enough to choke her, but just enough to make his dominance clear. “You’ll be happier if you stop fighting,” he whispered, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “You’ll be mine. I’ll take care of you.”
Brynlee’s vision blurred with tears. She felt herself sinking, the fear swallowing her whole. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to fight, to resist, but her mind was trapped in a suffocating fog. She lay still, allowing him to strip her, the humiliation and terror mixing into a toxic brew that paralyzed her.
“There we go,” he cooed, his voice dripping with false tenderness. He smoothed his hand over her bare skin, and she fought back the bile rising in her throat. “That’s better, sweetheart. See? Isn’t it easier when you don’t fight?”
The praise ignited something in her, a spark of anger that flickered weakly in the darkness. His touch, his words—they were a violation of everything she was, everything she had fought to hold on to. That spark flared, and her teeth clenched.
Burt leaned back, resting on his knees, his hands fumbling with his belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops echoed in the confined space, and Brynlee’s heart pounded in her chest. She had to escape—had to get away—but how?
The soft rustle of fabric filled the air as he unzipped his pants, then shoved the material down.
And then, without thinking, Brynlee laughed.
It was a bitter, hollow sound, but it was the only weapon she had left. It burst out of her in a broken, jagged laugh that echoed off the walls. Burt Johnson froze, his eyes narrowing in confusion and anger. The look on his face only made her laugh harder.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” he hissed, his voice thick with rage.
Brynlee kept laughing, the sound spilling from her lips uncontrollably. It was the only way she knew how to fight back, the only way to push back against the overwhelming fear. She knew it wasn’t real courage—it was a defense mechanism, a desperate attempt to distance herself from the horror unfolding around her. But it was all she had.
Johnson’s face twisted in fury. “Shut up!” he barked, but she couldn’t stop. The laughter poured out of her, mingling with tears, turning into something wild and unhinged. She could see the fury building in his eyes, the way his muscles tensed with the effort to contain it.
And then he snapped.
He lashed out, his fist connecting with her jaw. The force of the blow sent her head snapping to the side, pain exploding in her skull. Her laughter died instantly, replaced by a cry of pain as the taste of blood filled her mouth. He hit her again and again, each punch more vicious than the last. He was shouting something, but the words were a blur, lost in the ringing in her ears.
“Why are you doing this?” he screamed, his voice cracking with emotion. “Why are you always like this? Why am I never good enough?”
He kept hitting her, his fists pounding into her with a frenzied desperation, calling her by a name that wasn’t hers, venting years of pent-up rage on her battered body. Brynlee felt her teeth rattle in her skull, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth. The world began to spin, her vision dimming at the edges. She was on the verge of losing consciousness when, suddenly, he stopped.
Burt stood over her, panting, his fists still clenched. He stared down at her, his face contorted with a mixture of satisfaction and disgust. “You’ll learn,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “You’ll learn to be what I need.”
He turned and stormed out of the basement, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoed in the silence that followed, leaving Brynlee alone, her body throbbing with pain.
Relief washed over her in waves, mingling with the agony that wracked her frame. He was gone. For now, at least, she was safe. But she knew it wouldn’t last. He would come back, and next time, she might not survive.
She had to escape.
With a groan, Brynlee forced herself to move, her limbs trembling with the effort. She couldn’t let the fear control her—not anymore. There had to be a way out, something she could use to free herself. She scanned the basement, her eyes searching for anything that could help.
She couldn’t give up. Not now, not ever. She would find a way out. She had to. Her life depended on it.