Arran awoke to the labored breathing of his capturer, only to find himself restrained to an old wooden chair, his arms crossed behind it and bound at the wrist by thick rope. He didn’t dare raise his head to know his whereabouts, instead he desperately attempted to unrestraint himself, but his efforts were ineffective as the rope lacerated his skin. Pain tore throughout his whole body and he swore silently underneath his breath, as his blood started to seep onto the rope, making it damp and sticky. It alarmed the women and she quickly delivered a stunning blow to Arran’s jaw with a gasoline canister.
Once Arran saw the women standing before him, her short stature and petite body surprised him, because the canister appeared heavier than what he assumed she could lift. He smirked immediately after realizing ‘fucked’ wasn’t the right term to describe his situation, and the women mistook it for cockiness. She arched the canister back again, hurled it around with all her energy, and connected another solid blow to his jaw. The force was so great, that it knocked his head into the opposite direction, and blood from his mouth slung to the floor below. The women returned a smirk, it was sadistic and unnerving, and it frightened him.
“You fucking pig! I hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done!” she screamed, while soaking the chair with gasoline. The stench of it made him light-headed and queasy, he almost passed out, but somehow managed to keep his eyelids from shutting close.
The last of the gasoline rushed out of the canister, as she turned it upside down, then slammed it to the ground. She pushed herself against Hayden, almost as if she was attractive to him, and searched his jacket pocket. “What in the fuck are you doing?”
Ignoring his question, she dug her fingernails deep into the side of his cheek, and he gritted his teeth to hold in the pain. He wasn’t about to scream for this bitch and give her the satisfaction of knowing she was doing something right. She smiled at the damage she had inflicted, then slid her tongue over the wound, after taking his carton of Lucky Strikes. Then he recognized the bitch, it was his ex-girlfriend from high school, the one who stalked him after he started dating Theresa.
“Melissa?” he asked calmly and her eyes lit up in shock. “Why are you helping her? You two were never the best of friends when it had to do with me.”
A sympathetic smile tugged at her lips, as she inserted a Strike between them, before lighting it up with the burning candle on the shelf next to her. The scent of candle mixed with the gasoline made Arran gag, he examined the room for anything he could cut the ropes with, but nothing caught his eye. Then he realized the bed, the curtains, and the carpeting.
“Now you remember this place. I’m surprised it took you long enough jerk,” she frowned, throwing the carton of Strikes at his head. Arran dodged them and they hit up against the wall. “You should’ve never told us you loved us either, because now you’re going to lose the thing you pigs cherish the most.”
Arran raised his eyebrow in curiosity, “What’s that?” Two other women, including Theresa, entered into the room. In unison they all said, “Your heart!”
“All of this for me? You ladies shouldn’t have,” Arran laughed standing up from the chair. The rope dropped the floor and the women rushed him. He pulled his fist back and nailed everyone of them, except Theresa. He caught himself and stopped his fist inches from her face, then she kneed him in the groin. She pushed him back into the chair and one of the women crawled to the rope. Grabbing it, she chunked it to Theresa who tied Arran back down.
“You’re pathetic,” Theresa whispered into his ear. “Somebody get the damn knife! He won’t get away with what he did! He may have fooled all of us, but we won’t allow him to fool anyone else!”
Someone handed Theresa the knife and she went to slam it into Arran’s crotch, but before she could, someone grabbed her hair from behind. She screamed. Whoever had her hair slammed her into the shelf, knocking the candle over in the process. The gasoline ignited and Arran jumped out of the chair just in time to watch it burn.
“Sorry it took me so long,” Felicia smiled, helping Arran up to his feet. He noticed she had dyed her hair blonde. “You like it?”
“Let’s get the hell out of here first and I’ll tell you what I think.”
They exited the room, but not before Arran kicked Theresa in her side. They jumped into her car and sped off.
“So, do you like it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Good.”
Glen Fischer was next.