James sat in the boiler room of the Oak Manor Apartment Complex. The heat from the furnace behind him burned his hands, even more so when it kicked on to heat the thirty-four different rooms. He couldn't remember how he had gotten there, though he knew he was taken in the middle of the night. James had been there for three days.
For three days, James had sat in the hard metal chair, wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Ropes kept his legs tied to the chair legs, and there were at least two sets of handcuffs keeping his arms and hands bound to the back of the chair, only inches from the super-heated furnace. James had not yet realized it, but his sanity was slowly slipping.
He had been in a state of constant pain for about 72 hours. The skin on James hand had charred and turned a blackish color after the first day. There was also a large, mysterious cut surrounded by a bruise on his forehead. This constant pain made rest near impossible. The only time he could get any sleep was when the furnace shut off, and still this sleep was a pain to James. It was filled with unexplained, horrible nightmares.
Twice a day a man came for him. He would come in the only entrance to the boiler room: a large metal door. The clothes the man wore made any kind of identification impossible. It appeared that his only outfit was the dark pants and jacket, and the ski-mask. Even his hands were covered by the gloves he wore. He was a fairly large man, about 6'4 and at least 300 pounds. The man gave off a sense of both anger and strength.
Every time the man came to get him, the procedure went the same. First, James was blindfolded. The ropes around his legs were undone, and one of the sets of handcuffs were taken off, leaving his still arms bound tightly behind him. The man would clamp his large hands onto his shoulders and lead him through two sets of doors. James was then shoved into a running car. The man would drive for about ten minutes of so, and they would reach a storage room.
Once inside, the blindfold would be taken off, and James was allowed to eat and use the bathroom. The man never had much to say (except for the occasional "Eat", or "Let's go") , despite James constant barrage or questions. The man would just spend the majority or his time staring at James, especially his hands. This was probably due to the fact that his hands were a gruesome sight. Most of the flesh on his hands had become charred and blackened, and what was not burnt was red and cracked looking.
During the small amounts of time he was permitted to move around, he found it incredibly difficult to do anything with his hands. They hurt all of the time, but its when he tried to actually grasp something that James knew the new definition of pain. He had realized, that even if he got away from this madman, he would never be the same again.
The question that had been on James mind since he awoke was Why. Why had this happened? Why would someone take him from his bed in the middle of the night? Why would someone do something like this? He couldn't comprehend any of it. Why had he done to deserve this? No matter how hard he tried, he could not get a motive down. James worked in an office building downtown. Basically all he did for eight hours every day was file papers and enter data into a computer. Certainly not a job to make enemies with. And ransom was not a possibility, seeing as how James and all of his family were far from rich.
Another question he could not answer was how. James always locked his doors and windows before bed. Not only that, But how had someone broke into his apartment, put him in a car, drove him to his current prison, tie him up and handcuff him, all without him waking up? James sat pondering all this, when suddenly exhaustion washed over him and he passed out. It wasn't long into his slumber that another nightmare started, this one more vivid than any of the others.
* * * * *
A man was picking the lock to an apartment door. James subconsciously noted it was the same man who had kept him in hell for three days. The man quickly gained access and made his way through the apartment, with an air of intention about him. Once again, James' sleeping brain made a note that it was his apartment the man was in. The man made his way straight to James bedroom, and stood and watched him sleep. After several minutes of this, he produced a damp rag and pressed it over James' mouth and nose. James started to stir in the bed, and the man increased the pressure of the rag. All of a sudden, James jerked violently and tried to get away, but then he collapsed into a limp pile. In that split second that he had moved, something had happened in the dream. James subconscious could not quite grasp the revulsion of what it had just seen.
The man was breathing heavily as he removed the cloth. He reached down and heaved the limp body over his shoulder, and carried him downstairs. James was thrown into the back of a running van, and the man drove through the dark, lonely road. At this point in the dream, things began to twist and change. James had awoken in the back of the van, and was now changing into some kind of horrible monster. The monster tore at the inside of the van with long, jagged claws. The animal thing beat his head into the back window until it cracked.
* * * * *
James snapped awake, both horrified and in extreme pain. The furnace had just came back on. James was physically shaken from the dream he had just experienced. It seemed eerily familiar. He had no time to contemplate though, because just then, the metal door flew open and the man stormed in.
As before, the black ski mask hid his face. He held a set of keys in his gloved hand. The man stood in the doorway and stared at James. James thought back to the dream he had just had and stared at the man. It was fairly obvious that this was the same man. With a grunt, he made his way across the room and slipped the blindfold on James. He moved to the side of James, and undid one of the sets of handcuffs. His hand must have drifted too close to the hot furnace, because he jerked his arm back and sucked in air through his teeth.
All at once hate for the man seized James completely. He sneered and said "Yea, watch out. You wouldnt want to get burned by something like that." The man stopped dead for a minute, then grunted again and jerked James to his feet. As usual, James was led to the running car. In the backseat, James had to lean forward to prevent his aching hands from touching the leather. After several minutes of driving, a question came to James mind.
"So tell me, how did you do it?" James asked the man. For the first time since James was kidnapped, the man actually responded to a question.
"Do what?" His voice was deep and raspy, and there was a hint of southern accent in it.
James snickered. "Well that rag you put on my face, I was just a little curious about weather you used ether or chloroform. Or was it something else completely?" The man in the ski-mask gasped and jerked a little. James didn't expect and answer, and he wasn't given one.
The handcuffs were beggining to chafe the skin on James' wrists, causing the already burned skin to hurt even more. When they finally got to their destination, the man shut off the car and got out. A minute later, the car door flew open and James was pulled roughly out. He was shoved through another door, and by the cool, circulated air that hit him, he knew they were in the storage building.
The blindfold was ripped off, and James had to squint his eyes against the bring flourescant lights. On the table in the middle of the room were several burgers still in their wrapper. The man undid the other set of handcuffs, and James slowly stretched his arms. His shoulders hurt terribly, and protested with loud popping noises. Waving his arms to the general direction of the table, the man simply said "Eat."
James plopped down in the chair and rested his arms on the table. Looking at the horrible mess that was once his hands made James lose almost all of his appetite. But seeing as how he had ate nothing in almost sixteen hours, he had to look past it. James tried his best to unwrap the burger, but every time he attempted it, sharp pain spread from his hands and shot up his arm.
He momentarily gave up and sat back in his chair. James watched the man inhale one burger and start on another with resentment in his eyes. Without warning, James became severely light headed and began to see spots in front of his eyes. Spasms ran through his neck and his eyes rolled back in his head.
* * * * *
This time, as soon as he went out, another grotesque nightmare started. It was somewhat of a continuation of the last one. The man stood outside of the running van, staring nervously at the doors, hoping they would not fly open. The animal was still locked in the back, and was still very much angry with the situation it was in. It repeatedly threw itself against the walls of its prison. Fear radiated off of the man, and the animal could smell it. All of a sudden, the van stopped rocking. The man, on very shaky legs, made his way over to the back door and slowly opened it. Just as the doors were opened, James snapped awake.
* * * * *
James could tell he had only been out for a few seconds, because the kidnappers burger still hung in mid flight to his mouth. His jaw hung open slightly. All at once his mouth snapped shut, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" the man asked in a menacing voice. James was not the least bit intimidated.
Something was wrong with James now. It was like his former self had been pushed to the back of his mind, and some strange force was controlling him.
"I know you're scared." James voice was also not his own. It was ragged and forced sounding. The man stared at him quizzically. James gave out a deep laugh.
"I know youre scared of me. Why dont you tell me why." Full-fledged anger had seeped into his voice. Now the man refused to meet James eyes.
"I'm not scared of you. You're the one who should be scared." James could tell he was lying by the sound of his voice. Just then, James brain clicked back over to normal. His ears popped, and it felt as if he had been holding his breath for too long. He shook the grogginess from his head and reached for a burger. Though his hands still hurt, for one reason or another it was more bearable now.
* * * * *
Back in the boiler room. Back in the hard metal chair. Back to the constant seething pain. James kept thinking he smelled burning flesh, but didn't know it was real or not. Seeing as how he large quantities of free time on his hands, he had been in deep thought for quite some time. He had realized his little lapses into unreality were far from normal.
He had also been thinking about his mind set right before he lapsed over. Every time it had happened, his mind had been ripe with hate and anger. And it was from this string of realizations that a plan began to form. There was something about James that caused the kidnapper great fear. But as his mind tried to grasp the kidnappers trepidation, he passed out again. And as usual, the dreams started.
* * * * *
This dream was different from all of the others. James was only half asleep this time, and it was more like a vision than a nightmare. It was a bit disorienting at first, because he was watching the kidnapper from his own eyes, but at the same time, he was watching himself from the kidnappers eyes.
They were in the storage room, eating hamburgers. Or rather, James watched himself TRY to eat a hamburger. All he was really doing was fumbling with the wrapper. It appeared to be a scene from the day before. All of a sudden, James watched himself make a gasping noise, watched his own eyes roll back in his head. He watched his face smack hard against the metal table. Next came the worst part, he watched himself turn into the monster again. He could feel the same terror the kidnapper felt, while feeling the hate the monster gave off. The monster asked the kidnapper if he was scared, only he didnt speak it, he more roared it than anything.
The kidnapper tried to meet the monsters eyes, but found it too disturbing. He mumbled something about not being scared, and the monster laughed loudly.
* * * * *
James awoke with the monsters laugh still ringing in his ears, and several realizations hit him at once. The first thing that hit him was realizing what the kidnapper was afraid of. The kidnapper was afraid of HIM. HE was the monster from the dreams. For an unknown reason, knowing he struck fear in his kidnapper brought him great joy.
The next thing James noticed was the kidnapper standing in the doorway. As soon as James saw the man, he felt reason and consciousness start to slip away, only this time he embraced it. He wanted to be that monster again. He wanted to see the fear in his captures eyes. James let hate swallow him up, let pity and empathy go out the door. He felt more alive and energized than ever before. He knew the kidnapper could see the monster in him.
A sneer crossed the mans face. "Time to die demon." His voice was filled with relief, as if he had been waiting to say those words for some time. He strode across the room and undid both sets of cuffs.
"Get up." These words were spoke with no hint of emotion in them. The monster that was once James jumped to his feet and spat on the man. Utter surprise crossed his face.
"I know your scared. I can smell it on you. Why don't you stop hiding it." The kidnapper responded to this by very slowly backing away, and pulling a large knife from what appeared no where. Though gripping the knife tightly, the look of mixed horror and surprise still remained on his face. James/The monster quickly strolled over and smacked the knife from his hand. The monster spoke very slowly, almost in a whisper. "
One of us is going to die, so lets get on with it." The kidnapper just continued to stare into the monsters face.
Once again, the monster spoke in a whisper.
"Kill me." The man only stared at him with a confused look. This time James/The monster roared.
"I said kill me you coward! Spill my blood and claim your victory! The kidnapper suddenly realized that the man/monster he was facing was dead serious.
With a grunt, the kidnapper reached way back and smashed the side of James face with his huge fist. He was expecting retaliation of some sort. But James only laughed. "Cmon, you can do better than that." So the kidnapper hit him again, right between the eyes. Though the monster lost his sense of humor at that moment, he appeared unaffected by the haymaker he had just received
"Again." the monster said, with something worse than hate.
The kidnapper was beginning to get frustrated. He considered himself to be a very strong man, and this kind of behavior from the monster was not good for his self-esteem. He summoned up everything he had inside of him, and swung one more time. This was the last thing he ever did. The blow had very much force behind it, and sent James/The monster reeling backwards. Blood poured out of James' nose. If he had been thinking rationally, he would have realized that it was one of the most painful things he would ever experience (besides the whole furnace escapade). But he wasn't thinking rationally, not in the least. Rationality and morals had gone out the door, and was now replaced by bloodlust and hate.
Just as the kidnapper was about to swing again, the monster advanced. James only swung one time. Thats all it took. The force of the blow cracked the kidnappers cheek in three different places. He stumbled backwards into the concrete wall, and the monster pounced on him. James grabbed his captures head with both hands, and proceeded to beat his head into the concrete wall. As all of this was happening, a thought occurred to the kidnapper. It was a thought that originated from a separate, rational part of his brain. This part of his brain asked the other part (which was screaming in pain and horror and revulsion at the time), "How is he doing this with his hands hurt like they are?"
It would be the last thing he ever thought. James beat the mans head into the wall long after he was dead, until the back of his skull was caved in, and there were large puddles of blood on the floor.
And when a tenant wondered into the unlocked boiler room some days later, they would find the man in the ski-mask. They would find the man and his gloves, his handcuffs, his blood. They would find his blood on almost everything. And on the wall, written in the kidnappers own blood, was the word "Escape."
THE END.
