Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Trapped Like a Rat ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I created and own all of these characters and events

 

A sharp rustling cuts like a knife through the deathly silence in the dark cellar, echoing off the stained crumbling concrete walls. Rats, startled by the noise, scatter into the hiding. In their hurry, many scamper over the knees of a young woman chained to the wall.

 

The sensation of many small rodents, their nails like tiny needles across her flesh. It woke the young woman out of her somewhat drugged state.

 

Platinum blond hair falls around her face as she lowers her head, trying desperately to place what is going on.

 

Images from the previous night flash through Veronica's mind: a party, beer, boys, an especially cute one buying her a drink. But none of this added up to where she is now: a dark stone basement, naked and cuffed to the wall, with no chance of escape.

 

Tears spring to her eyes as Veronica realizes the gravity of her situation. As panic rises up, the only sounds she makes are the helpless whimpers involuntarily wrenched from her throat. Whipping her head around in terror, she looks for some way out, but it is all for naught, for the darkness is entirely impenetrable.

 

Unknown to Veronica, a camera is attached to the opposite corner of the room, centered on her. Veronica's movement appears on a screen in the room above her, telling the avidly watching viewer that it is time. His pretty one is awake. Gathering the tools of his trade, he makes his way down the stairs, each heavy footfall carrying a sense of doom to Veronica.

 

He reaches the door to the room she occupies, and slowly unlocks it. She can hear the turning of the lock, and is thrown into a panic, becoming like the rats around her-an animal scrambling in a mindless panic, only knowing that something ominous is about to happen.

 

The hinges protest as the heavy door is forced open, metal scraping along the cement floor. Veronica freezes in panic, straining to see what is going to happen.

 

A shuffling fills the silence; then, the striking of a match. The light outlines the form of a large man with his back to Veronica. He carries on lighting candles, seemingly oblivious to her whimpers. He lights the last candle, and finally turns to face his prey.

 

The flickering candlelight illuminates the man's face. She knows that face.

 

He is a young man whom she had thought was from another college; dark hair, ruggedly handsome features, and a muscular physique. She had met him the night before. They had hit it off, and the last thing she can remember is accepting a drink from. He has drugged her.

 

Now, he looks very different than he did last night. A strange light shines in his eyes as he glowers down at her.

 

“Hello, my dear. We're going to have lots of fun tonight.” His soft voice sounds like he is commenting on the weather. A quiet “shink” sounds as he draws a long, gleaming knife from its sheath. “A lot of fun.”

 

Tears silently pour down Veronica's cheeks. She gasps for air desperately attempting to escape, finally choking out the word: “W-why?”

 

“Why you ask? Why?” Moving towards her. “Because you are just like her, always partying, going for the first guy who flirts with you. You deserve to be punished!”

 

He holds his arms out in the candlelight, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the light shadowing many deep scars. “Mother always believed in punishments. I was a very bad child. I was punished many times. But, mother was bad too, so she had to be punished. But now my sweet, it is time for your punishment.”

 

With these words he begins advancing on the terrified woman. Finally finding her voice as the gleaming metal sinks into her skin. Veronica's shrieks of pain and terror ring off the walls. The rats scatter from the noise, slowly calming as the screams dim and fade away into silence.

 

The man slowly gathers her body parts in a bag, and drags it out the door. A dark puddle on the floor and many new dark stains on the wall are all that are to show that Veronica had ever been there. As the door shuts, the rats scurry to the mess, happily feasting on the warm, sticky blood.

 

The bag thumps on each step as it is dragged up the stairs.

 

Later that evening a nosy neighbor peaks through the kitchen window. A dark young man is gleefully eating a hearty meat stew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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