CHAPTER 3- CHAINED TO THE PAST

The air in the car was suffocating. I was tied to back of the car with a cloth ruffled in my mouth.

The rough rope bit into my skin with every movement, sending a sharp stinging sensation around my wrists. I twisted my wrists against the restraints, desperate, the fibers digging deeper. The burn was unbearable, yet I couldn't stop. My breaths came in shallow gasps as the pain flared, but the thought of staying still—of doing nothing—was worse.

I could taste the cotton and sweat from my face at the back of my throat. The car came to halt. He stepped out of the driver seat. My heart raced faster as he approached the back seat. He opened the door, pushing to the edge of the other door. He sat beside me. I saw the dark hunger in his eyes—predatory look burned deep in his pupils. He grabbed my hands and pulled them close to his chest. The smell of cheap cologne hit my nose, his skin on mine. He trailed my neck with his nose, his breath hot on my skin.

"I'm doing this because I love you K. You have one more chance to let me do this without restraint" He buried his face in my neck, wrapping his hands around my waist.

I nodded slightly. He brought his face to mine, smiling from ear to ear.

"Really?" He cupped my face in his hands and remove the cloth from my mouth.

"Yes" I gave him a faint smile. Maybe if I lie, I could fight my way out of this.

"Don't try anything stupid K" he loosened the rope on my wrists. He placed it beneath me as he dragged me closer to him. He buried his lips in mine—he was hungry for them. I kissed him back playing along with this charade. His hands trailed from my face down to my thighs, he moaned loudly as he kissed me.

I opened my eyes and searched around car for anything—anything—that can knock him unconscious.

He turned us around so I was lying underneath him, still maintaining the kiss.

"You are so beautiful. You know that right?" He trailed the hem of my shirt, his fingers finding my nipples. I whimpered as he pinched it.

 I was able to free one of my hands to check the car for anything sharp. I had noticed a knife in the car earlier. I needed to find that knife—now. He removed his shirt to reveal his bare skin. He grabbed my arm and ran his through his torso making me feel his packs. He came back down, sticking his tongue down my throat. He ran his hands to my trousers trying to take off my belt.

I quickly picked up the object from the floor, without thinking I slammed it on his head pushing him back. I pulled the door handle and jolted out of the car. I felt my knees graze the cold floor but I didn't look back—I can't afford to. I sprinted into the dark, I could hear my heart pounding in my chest, the bare floor cold beneath my feet, the cold breeze hitting my skin. I hated when he touched me, when he put his hands on me—kissed me—I wanted to hurt him. But I can't do that now. I have to escape—get out of here first.

I could hear his feet behind me but I couldn't look back. I prayed to see something—someone, maybe a car. But I could already feel him closing in. I turned a corner ready to charge again. I felt my tongue taste the earthly gift of the nature. I felt him dragged my body through the ground, the floor bruising my skin. I screamed as my body got dragged across the floor. He carried me on his shoulder, I tossed and turned but he was stronger no matter what I tried to do.

He shoved me back to the car, closing the door behind. Only this time, I fought back. I clawed, bit and wrestled my way. All I felt was a sharp, cold pain to my gut. I felt the light go out of my eyes as he hit me again. He took my hands and tied them over my head, grabbed the knife in the glove compartment and placed it near my throat.

"Stop squirming," he growled, his voice a twisted melody of dominance and satisfaction.

The straps of my trousers tore under his hands, and I froze, praying, hoping for some divine intervention. None came. Only the night bore witness to my silence and his cruelty.

What happened next was foggy, The smell of his cologne clouded any thoughts in my mind. My cries were overshadowed by his grunts. The pain between my legs as he continued to push harder and deeper into me grew. He let out a moaning sound as he dropped his remnants all of over my face.

When he was done, he grunted, zipping up his pants as if this was just another task on his to-do list. He grabbed my arm with a force that sent a fresh wave of pain through my body.

"Come on" He hissed, as his grip became firm. I looked forward as my eyes were still cloudy. As we move closer, I noticed where he had taken me. The lake. He had driven all the way out here so when he was done, he would dispose of me in the lake.

"Please you don't need to do this. I promise I won't tell a soul." I cried and begged as he continued to drag me.

"How will I trust you, with the fucking stunt you just pulled." He screamed at my face.

"I'm sorry but you didn't give me much choice. I gave you a chance and you blew it. This is one is on you." We were halfway down the path as I noticed the lake afar. I stumbled, my legs weak, but his grip was ironclad.

It was then I realized he didn't plan to let me go. I had no idea how I'd survive, only that I had to.

My heart pounds in my chest, and for a moment, I'm back there, trapped in that nightmare. I feel the panic rising, the air thick with fear, my breath shallow as my mind replays the worst of it.

Then, a loud horn blares, sharp and sudden. It cuts through the darkness of my thoughts, like a thunderclap. My body jerks, startled, as if I've been ripped out of a deep sleep. The world rushes back to me in a rush of sound, the present forcing itself in.

I blink, shaking off the remnants of the past, and slowly, I register where I am—sitting in the car, the engine running, the city noise all around me. But the weight of what just resurfaced clings to me like a shadow.

I drove straight down for a while before making a quick turn on my right. The headlights of my car picked up the street name—Willow Avenue. I headed down the path for another 30 minutes before the crematorium came into sight. I headed inside— parking my car at my usual spot. I came down from the car and searched the area. I had to make sure no one was following me.

I sighed as I head towards the room where the bodies were cremated. We have 6 different rooms for the cremation. My dad only ever uses the main room—it was bigger than the rest. The other 4 rooms were used when they were a lot of bodies, and I helped around a lot. The last room, I had told him to clear out because I wanted some space for myself. He gave me that for my 18th birthday but I never did get rid of the incinerator. I already had plans to use it then. I never did tell him I hadn't gotten rid of it.

The memory tore through me as I stood in the room, the cold air biting at my skin. My father's workplace, a haven of steel and fire, now served as a vault for my darkest secrets.

I approached the hidden compartment I had carved out years ago. The latch opened with a soft click, revealing my collection of trophies: things I had killed in the past. They were all there.

Except one thing.

The cloth.

The fabric I had torn from his shirt that night to keep his ashes—it was gone. I returned the cloth back to its home.

My stomach dropped. Was he taunting me? How did he know about this place?

I clenched my fists, scanning the compartment again. Everything else was intact, but the absence of that one piece felt like a glaring omission. My pulse raced.

A sudden rustling outside the crematorium snapped me out of my thoughts. I stiffened, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife tucked into my boot.

Moving quietly, I crept toward the back door. The rustling grew louder, and I held my breath as I pushed the door open, my eyes scanning the shadows.

There, in the dim moonlight, was a bunny, its nose twitching as it chewed on a patch of grass..

Still, the unease lingered. This wasn't over. He was out there, somewhere. Watching. Waiting. And now, it was my move.

I headed outside and got into my car. I need to find out who he is. I reached for the note in my pocket and read it over and over again. Where do I start from? Who do I suspect? I groaned as I stared at the paper one more time. Then I noticed something—the paper had something written on it. I switched on the light on my phone and placed it behind the paper.

Lucia Hotel and Suites.

My eyes widen as I read the name of the paper. I knew where this is. I had made a stop there weeks before I killed Wilder. I ignited the engine when I felt my phone buzz.

A dispatch call, I sighed as I turned around. I have to get to the suite and get the check in records.

You are not as smart as you think you are. I am going to get you—whoever you are—you just wait.