C154 Just Get Me Out

Natasha’s head throbbed, the pounding as relentless as the nauseating bile that burned her throat.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but the blinding light above her forced them shut again.

Slowly, awareness returned, like an uninvited guest dragging the weight of horror with it.

She was lying on her own bed. But something was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Her arms were stretched above her head, her wrists bound tightly to the headboard.

Her legs were similarly restrained, and panic surged when she realised she was completely naked.

Her muscles screamed as she instinctively tried to pull free, but the cable ties dug into her skin, unyielding.

“Finally awake.”

The sickly sweet, mocking tone sent a shiver down her spine.

Natasha’s eyes snapped open, and she froze at the sight of him.

The fucking bastard, whose face she couldn't place, was seated beside her with one leg crossed over the other like he was having a casual chat with an old friend.

“You took your sweet time,” he said, smiling as though he wasn’t the embodiment of her worst nightmare.

He raised a small, metallic object in his hand.

It was a taser!

“I was just about to wake you up myself. Guess I don’t need this now."

Natasha’s stomach twisted as a memory rammed her mind.

That was what had made her unconscious.

She seemed to remember trying to dial a number before she went under too, but she was not so sure.

She tried to scream, but the gag in her mouth muffled the sound.

His eyes sparkled with malice as he gestured grandly to the nightstand beside him.

Laid out on it was an array of tools.

Knives of various sizes, a hammer, and even a pair of pliers.

“Quite the collection, huh?” Tad said, grinning.

“Now, which one should we start with? A classic stab? Maybe a little slice here and there?” He tilted his head like he was pondering dessert options.

Natasha mumbled furiously against the gag, her fear laced with fury.

“Oh, right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “You can’t talk with that thing in your mouth. My bad."

With deliberate slowness, he reached over and removed the gag.

The moment it left her lips, Natasha screamed.

It was raw, primal, and filled with every ounce of terror she felt.

“Shut up!” he barked, his hand lashing out like a whip.

The base of his palm struck her neck, and pain radiated through her body.

She retched violently, nearly choking on her own vomit as he stuffed the gag back in her mouth.

“Look at what you made me do,” he sneered, leaning back as if her suffering amused him. “This could’ve been pleasant, Natasha. Cooperative even. But no, you had to be difficult."

Her mind raced as the hazy memory from earlier sharpened.

She remembered trying to call 911 earlier but misdialing in her panic.

The call must have gone to the last number on her log.

He’d taken her phone, smashed it, and then tasered her unconscious.

Now she was here, trapped in a nightmare.

“Fine,” he said, picking up a wicked-looking knife from the table. “If you’re not going to choose, I will.”

As he approached her, his grin stretched wider. “Let me tell you a story...”

The sound of her doorbell shattered the tense silence.

Natasha’s eyes widened as he froze mid-step, his expression darkening.

“Were you expecting company?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Natasha shook her head violently.

The doorbell rang again, shrill and insistent.

“Persistent little fucker,” Tad muttered, tucking the knife into his waistband and pulling out a gun.

He glanced at Natasha, his smile returning as if to mock her. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m very good at dealing with interruptions.”

He left the room, and Natasha’s heart pounded against her ribcage as desperation took over.

She twisted against her restraints, pulling with every ounce of strength she had, but the cable ties wouldn’t budge.

The doorbell kept ringing.

Tears blurred her vision as she silently begged the person outside not to leave.

Then it stopped.

No. No, no, no!

Natasha’s throat tightened.

The stillness in the air felt suffocating.

Just as she heard him coming back, the doorbell started again.

More relentless and urgent. His hand twitched, the gun glinting in the dim light.

“Goddammit,” he hissed, spinning on his heel and heading for the door.

Natasha strained her ears, listening as the door creaked open.

“Can I help you?” he asked smoothly, his voice dripping with false courtesy.

“Hey, man. Is Natasha here?”

Her heart leapt.

She knew that voice!

It was Jake.

Her overly friendly neighbour, who always tried to strike up a conversation despite her cold demeanour.

“She’s busy,” the monster replied, his tone laced with annoyance. “Good night."

“Busy?” Jake’s voice held a note of skepticism. “That’s weird. She and I had plans tonight."

Plans? Natasha blinked in surprise.

Of course, Jake was lying. He must have heard her scream.

“Look,” her captor said, the fake politeness slipping. “She’s not interested. Good night."

Natasha’s panic surged. She let out a guttural sound, hoping Jake would hear her through the walls.

The doorbell rang again, followed by a sharp knock.

“Listen, her carburetor oil is leaking,” Jake said. “I saw it earlier, and I’m a mechanic. If she can’t come out, at least let me take a look."

The following silence was suffocating.

Natasha imagined the monster weighing his options, his finger twitching over the trigger.

She seemed to hear footsteps in the hallway.

Then another voice joined in.

“Yo, Jake! What’s taking so long? You ditching us for a girl again?"

“Yeah, not cool, man!"

The light-hearted teasing brought Natasha to the edge of tears.

Jake wasn’t alone.

“Hey!” the monster barked, his frustration boiling over.

A gunshot shattered the air.

She shrank back as she saw the bastard run past the slightly opened door of her bedroom with a venomous look tossed her way.

Then it was followed by the sound of her alcove window breaking.

"Did he just...?"

“Jake, you good?” One of his friends shouted.

Natasha’s breath caught as she heard heavy footsteps near the bedroom.

“Natasha?” Jake’s voice, tentative but alive, broke through her fear.

She made the guttural sound again, her throat raw.

The door burst open, and Jake swore loudly. "Christ."

"Stay out," he tossed behind him before shutting the door firmly.

He rushed to her side, his face a mix of horror and fury. “Natasha, what the...?"

“Just get me out,” she croaked as he pulled out the gag.

Then dread slammed into her as she looked behind him and she quickly asked, "Is he...?"

Carl shot him before he could get me. The bastard just leapt out of your window. The cops would get him," he said in an unsteady voice.

Natasha slumped as a dizzying wave of relief swept through her.

Jake’s hands were shaking as he worked at the cable ties, his muttered curses filling the room.

When she was finally free, Natasha didn’t care about her nudity or her vulnerability.

She launched herself into his arms, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline.

Tears streamed down her face, but for the first time, they weren’t from fear.

And in that moment, as the adrenaline coursed through her, Natasha vowed never to let herself be anyone’s victim again.