Page 98 of Tormented
TWENTY-NINE
Abbey
Goddamn—the smell. This place is insane. I’m pretty sure those reality TV cleaning crews would turn this place down for a feature. And this guy lives here?
Cash, as Sawyer called him, breaks out in a sweat, staring down Sawyer like he can find some sort of soft spot in the guy to appeal to.
The moron’s dreaming.
“Tick, tock. Time’s up.” Sawyer’s head tips to the side, his brow firm and his shoulders rigid as he assesses Cash before him.
I take a step back, the change in the air around us almost palpable as something snaps in that pretty boy’s head.
Cash backs up also, hands raised, and reaches for the handles of the linen cupboard. Fuck knows what the stuff they’ve been talking about is. I’m guessing drugs? Cash pulls the first of the two doors open, and I expect to see bags of white powder stacked up on the shelves.
Not fucking stairs heading below ground.
What the hell?
Sawyer gestures for Cash to go first, a sadistic smile painted on those full lips of his. Whatever’s down there, he knows what it is, and I get the feeling he’s looking forward to how this is about to unfold. I leave a good three risers between him and me as I trail behind. I don’t know what tripped in Sawyer’s mind when Cash started pleading for a second chance, but the mood feels as though we’re in a car with no brakes, teetering on the precipice of a cliff, waiting to see if we’ll go over or balance out.
The basement smells dank, the unmistakable stench of stagnant water strong. Something else grows thicker the further we descend, something akin to death. Rodents perhaps? After seeing that rat the size of a small dog in the corridor, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are a few decaying ones down here.
Cash flicks a switch at the base of the stairs and the ping of old light bulbs fill the air the second we’re bathed in muted white light. Our host collapses his shoulder into the wall opposite the base of the stairs and starts to sob.
I duck down, given I’m still standing at least six steps up from the bottom, and look under the ceiling at the room below.
Holy.
Shit.
My entire body trembles, goose bumps born out of pure horror rippling over my flesh. Guess I know what the smell is now.
“I couldn’t help it. The first one, she tried to get upstairs, and then the second wouldn’t shut up when I tried to stop her, so I hit them, and then—”
“You thought you’d practice your butchery skills?” Sawyer asks, moving past Cash to walk into the thick of the horror.
He points to the dismembered parts of women’s bodies, his lips silently moving as though he’s counting. “I’ve only got six legs, Cash. There should be eight.”
The guy looks to the floor, hands running over his face.
So much blood. That wasn’t stagnant water I could smell.
“Where’s the other one?” Sawyer whips across the room in three large strides, crowding our trembling host into the corner.
I allow my legs to give out and I sit on the stairs, eyes glued to the macabre scene spread across the dirt floor. I’ve seen people die before, seen them bleed out from both gunshot wounds and stabbings. Seen more than I can count. But this is new. Can’t say I’ve ever seen three women—at least I assume they were all women—hacked to pieces and organized into piles by body part, organs neatly stacked to the side in plastic food containers.
“Where’s the fourth?” Sawyer hollers again.
“She got away, okay?” Cash shrinks down the wall, his shoulders hunching over as though they’ll protect him from Sawyer’s anger. “She ran, and I chased her down. Hit her with the truck. Her body’s wrapped up in the back.”
Fuck me. No wonder he was keen to get us inside. I was leaning on that truck. My stomach burns, turning incessantly. I swear the smell has doubled since we’ve been down here. Wonder if I’ll ever get it out of my nose?
Sawyer takes two steps back from Cash and looks up at where I sit on the stairs. His gaze is vacant as it slides back to our host, with none of the curiosity or concern I’ve become acquainted with. I draw my knees up and hug them to my chest as Sawyer tips his head back, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. The room’s fallen eerily quiet, save for the beating of my heart echoing in my ears. Tension builds thick, Sawyer’s arms going rigid at his sides as he visibly winds up. His body vibrates with pent-up energy, his head tipping side to side as though he’s stretching out his neck. But nothing tells me that the shit is about to hit the fan like what he does next. Normally, Sawyer would be slamming the heel of his hand into his head, trying to silence the voice inside. But not now. Tonight he lifts both meaty paws and places them over his ears instead, as though he’s trying to amplify the voice.
Cash whimpers as Sawyer’s mouth twitches in and out of what can only be described as a grimace masquerading as a smile. It’s cold, promising only pain and no trace of mercy.
I’m entranced.