Insulation (A Horror Suspense Novella) by Saunders Craig

Author:Saunders, Craig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Fable Books
Published: 2015-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

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XI.

Pounding, bloody pain. Black hounds with red eyes snapped inside Yvonne's head. It felt like her brain was rocking back and forth, a crazy, loose seesaw with a mean fat kid on one end and her on the other. She tried to get her bearings; it must be a migraine, and a big bitch of one, too. If she could just figure out what day it was, then she'd know how long she’d been under...wondering if she might not need to phone a doctor...do something...

It was dark, but that might be because she couldn’t see. Sometimes in the worst migraines she all but lost her vision.

But then it came back to her.

Little man broke my jaw.

Her landlord. Her psychotic, psychopathic downstairs neighbour.

She tried to roll her way up and off her floorboards to find she wasn't in her apartment. She was bound by her hands to the taps in the bath. Not her bath, either. The bindings were the synthetic kind, like some sort of blue wire. Maybe a heavy fishing line, like for sea fishing, marlin, or tuna, or something like that.

Shit, she didn’t know. Could be it was just a washing line. Either way, it wasn’t going to give. She was bound up tight as she could be. Her hands were a different hue to her forearms, and numb. Almost complete numb, but at the same time her wrists and her hands hurt, so it couldn’t be complete numbness, could it?

I'm naked, too.

At some point he’d stripped her out of her clothes. She could feel a nick on her ribs, maybe six inches down from her armpit.

He cut off my bra...fucking...

Did he rape me?

No. This wasn’t that. This was death, pure and simple. Her blood ran cold, because she’d seen David, because she was bound tight in a cold bath, because she’d wet herself and her urine had run up her back. Even out for the count, it seemed her body knew she was dead, or as sure as hell soon would be.

She remembered it all. The face in the ceiling. Then it clicked in her mind and her gut, at last, in a way that made her think she might just vomit over herself right there.

The angle of his face...his head...no way a body could contort like that...

He'd been decapitated. Dismembered, too? Maybe...

The little fucking nut landlord stuffed poor David in the ceiling. The smell made sense to her now...that lingering smell that signaled the absence of life where once the living walked.

Now she found herself bound by her hands to the bath taps. Her urine flowed up her back, cold now, toward the plug.

The same way her blood would flow when he came back.

She didn’t have any doubt that was what he wanted. No first impressions necessary on her part, nor guesswork. No bargaining with herself, like, he didn’t really mean it, he wouldn’t, not really.

Just cold terror and pain.

No doubt.

When he came back, he’d cut her up and stuff her in the walls, too.

She cried then, as her jaw and the soft tissues inside her skull send out a pulse, a wave of pain.

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