Kidnapper in Mind 03

Chapter Three (Her hand shot up and held a tight accurate grip on her husband’s neck. Not squeezing. Just holding.)

                “Please no,” the woman whimpered as another roll of pain hit her stomach, more excruciating than the last. She drew up her legs and bowed her head forward, wrapping her arms around herself, placing herself into a fetal position. She hoped that her scrunched up form would relieve some of the pain like it did for her monthlies. Instead, it increased to a point that tears started at the edges of her eyes. It spread further and traveled up her spine to the back of her neck. Just as quick as it had moved through her, it faded and became a manageable dull throbbing ache.

                The young woman gasped for air, letting out cries in haggard spurts. Her body shook from the unending fear that threatened to drown her in oblivion. More tears formed and quickly turned into an uncontrollable flood. Her mind was in a confused mess. She had no way to articulate what she felt. She just wanted comfort and hoped that any sound she made would bring her husband to her. Another part of her, the one not stuck in a paralyzing fear, the logical section of her mind, knew she had to assess the situation. For a moment, she believed something had taken control of her. That wasn’t possible. There had to be another reason. So, with a set goal in mind, she breathed in and out to slow down her erratically beating heart. That didn’t work. Not because she failed but because, at the back of her mind, there was a niggling feeling that there was something else about to happen.

                She was correct. What she felt before was nothing compared to the next events that was to come her way. An electric shock started at the back of her neck. Her body immediately tensed and froze, face still flushed from her crying. The current filled her body, following the path of her nervous system until every crevice was taken over by it. She bit into her lip, tasting blood, and felt its warmth drip down her chin. Once all her nerves were filled with the energy, the levels of pain she had never felt before increased to a point that left her not knowing what was up or down. She had never felt something so excruciating.

Lost in the unknown, she cried and shouted for somebody…anybody to come. Her body dropped onto the cold tiled floor. It spasmed uncontrollably and ruthlessly. Then she felt it. She knew. There was something foreign in her. She felt its presence as it moved under the skin at the nape of her neck. She clapped her hand on it.

Underneath her touch, she felt the object jerk and move, wanting to tear itself out of her. Even lost, the fear of not knowing what it was scared her beyond any belief. When had it been put there? How did it get there? As if answering her, memories of horrible nature flooded her mind of things that had to be dreams but were not. Only in reality could the events that played in her mind of such nature could exist in reality. She didn’t hear the knocking on the door through the ringing in her ears and the wailing of agony coming out from her. Somehow and unknowingly, she had locked the door of the bathroom and she didn’t remember when.

Her husband had awoken when he heard something large collapse and his wife shout out. He had never heard such sound come from her before. He had stumbled out of the bed and followed her cries. To his surprise, the bathroom door was closed. He knocked and then banged. When her cries continued and he had received no acknowledgement from the other side, he shouted and called out her name. Fear overtook him and his police training kicked in. He took steps back, went into a ramming position, ran forward, and slammed the door with his shoulder. It took four attempts before he splintered it open. He was meet with the sight of his wife writhing on the floor, with a bleeding lower lip, her mouth frothing, and another scream tearing from her throat. He ran and dropped to his knees to be at her side. He then rolled her over, keeping her body as still as possible. “It is okay. You are okay.”

                His eyes were fully focused on his wife and her being. He never noticed the movement that occurred underneath the skin at the back of her neck. If only his eyes had lowered would he have seen the skin open and a small circular metallic object roll out. It was harmless looking, Innocent. It made a soft ping as it hit the floor, staining the tile with blood. Magically, it rolled from its spot, creating a small trail that led to the woman’s hand. It started to nudge her forefinger, opening her closed fist. It continued its path, rolling underneath, and the woman grasped it as shivers wrecked her body.

The excruciating pain the woman had found herself in was abating.

Her mind was in a confused turmoil and the instinct to breathe came upon her. She swallowed the mixed saliva and blood, accidently choking on it. She coughed and spat some of it out as her husband wiped her mouth and made cooing sounds. She was happy to see him there, but she couldn’t hold him or talk to him. She couldn’t tell him that there was pain at the back of her neck, that there was a wet sticky feeling on her skin. She wanted to shout to him the untold burden she held. She was paralyzed from showing emotion. What is wrong with me?

                The woman swore her husband could hear her mind because he started to utter, “Oh god, my love. You are bleeding.” His hand swept to her neck and pulled the hair back. He then gasped at the amount of blood coating his fingers. “Your neck. Where did all this come from? I need to call for help. God. I need to leave you. Just hold on.”

He was blubbering and crying. He had seen dead bodies and massacred forms from car accidents. Yet, the blood on his wife had turned him into a bawling idiot. He pulled away after kissing her forehead and promised his return. He needed to call for help. Now!

He never got the chance. His wife started to twitch, her hands frantically abrading at her skin, cutting into her soft flesh and spilling her blood all over herself. He grabbed her flailing limbs and crossed them over her chest. She screamed and tried to buck him off her. He could not allow it. He couldn’t let her hurt herself. He had no idea what was going on and the prospect of not knowing gave him no way to plan his next move. He was running on instinct. An action he had been taught not to do. The only thing he did know was his wife was having a sort of episode and he had to be there for her.

                Unfortunately, he had not seen what his wife had before she had started to scratch herself. The circular object in her hand had turned into a spider and proceeded to dig its teeth into her flesh. It tore and went through the soft tissues to later scuttle up her arm. She attempted to stop it but failed as her husband stopped her movements. Afterwards, the spider sat on top of her forehead and its little mouth opened wide. A drill emerged. It’s head lowered as it attacked the skin and bone with a sick ease.

The woman swore she could hear the drill inside her head and feel it claw through her brain. She cried her and screamed like a banshee. As the spider stopped it process, so did she. She stilled completely as if every nerve in her had been turned off. Her face blank.

                Her husband relaxed his grip on her. He watched shocked as her arms fell to her side limply. He looked down at her for a second and pulled her to him, rocking them both. “Thank God it is over,” he mumbled. He whispered more promises and told her what he was going to do in case he had to leave her. He didn’t want her to be frightened. “I need to get you to bed. Get you tucked in. I will call for help and ask if I can clean you up.” He pulled away and looked at his wife, startled by her empty dead look. She was so lifeless. He checked for a pulse and found a strong one. He gave a little cough of happiness and relief. He laid her down gently and prepared to move her, sniffling and wiping his face with the back of his arm.

                Inside her catatonic state, his wife was crying. Move you fool. Get away from me. I hear it. It is low and almost silent, but I hear it. It isn’t me. Please get away. I feel its need to kill. MOVE!

Her hand shot up and held a tight accurate grip on her husband’s neck. Not squeezing. Just holding. Using the reflection of her husband’s eyes, she saw herself. Why hadn’t her husband left? Now he was trapped with something that wasn’t her.


I would like to thank JustinD and SandyCheeks in assisting me on this chapter when my brain no longer wanted to work.

~Sketch