LUCIEN’S POV
I and Zayne made our way to the police station without saying much to each other. We were simply too drowned in our thoughts, and confusions to talk.
If we wolves couldn’t find Adria with all our heightened senses, could the police find her with all their men? We got to the police station and walked in to file the report.
“Missing person?” The man we asked, repeated. “Since when have you noticed it?” He asked.
“She didn’t return home last night and she didn’t any classes today. Her phone is switched off and as of now, no one has been able to reach her. She’s not the type to do this.” I explained and the man looked at me calculatively.
“And who are you to her?” He asked, and I hesitated because I and Adria’s relationship wasn’t exactly something that could be understood. Even though I looked young, she was way younger and if they knew I was a professor at the college she attended and was taking her classes, they would report it to school authorities because it was not accepted for a student to date a professor who took her classes.
“I’m her personal tutor.” I replied, and he raised a brow.
“Was your place the last place she visited?” He asked, and I almost raised my voice. Was it mandatory for them to suspect the person who came to report a crime. It was why most humans turned blind eyes to crimes.
“No. The last place she was seen was at the entrance of the street I live, right before she went into another street which is off-limits.” I explained.
“So since then, she hasn’t been out? Is she an orphan?”
“She has a mother.”
“And the mother has not reported the case?”
“Well…” I started but couldn’t continue.
“The missing girl’s friends came to us earlier this afternoon asking if she visited Lucien here but she hadn’t, and so we urged them to keep calm and wait for us to check around as she’s a teenager who probably spent the night somewhere else but her phone’s turned off, we’ve searched her well-frequented spots, she’s not there and she’s not the type not to mention wherever she’s going, and also, minutes after she went into the uninhabited street, a broad-shouldered man followed after her.” Zayne explained.
“You’re sure she didn’t take off with this man? Maybe she’s been having a hard time and…”
“Then find her first! What if she’s being tortured or about to be killed? Don’t you know every minute is crucial when people especially females are taken? What would you do if she turns up dead?” Zayne snapped before I could and the man took in a deep breath.
“A photo. The clothes she was wearing that day. Everything on her.” He said, going back to sitting on his chair, and I provided a bright photo of Adria from one of the many I had taken of her which didn’t seem too romantic, and also dropped the video of Adria going into the street.
“You can zoom in on her clothes. See she’s having a yellow sweatshirt and a blue denim skirt.” I pointed out to him and he nodded slowly, squinting his eyes, and twirling a pen in between his fingers.
“We’ll start work on it immediately.” He assured us and got up to put together his team.
“We’ve done what we can. Let’s leave the police to do what they can.” Zayne said, looking at me apologetically and I gave a sigh.
I had to trust the police, their decides and numbers to solve the case.
~
ADRIA’S POV
I had tried to get to the knife but realized I had been a little stupid to think I could get to it. My legs couldn’t even move. The only part of them that could move was my feet, and that wasn’t doing much.
How was I to get it when I couldn’t move well? Honestly, if I could simply get closer, then I could use my toes to pick it up but what then? What would happen when I used my toes to pick it up? How was I going to get it to my hands which were tied behind my chair? It wasn’t like I could use my toes to cut the ropes on my ankles.
For minutes I thought of what I could do, wondering what I’d do if I could indeed get the knife but came up with nothing useful. Those minutes were wasted and Monica returned with something in a sack. It was moving.
No way! She didn’t really catch rats, did she?
The rats squeaked and pushed around in the bag she had placed them in and she wiggled them up in front of me.
“I thought about it and it’d be too disgusting for me to force these into your mouth so instead, I thought of something even better. I will cook it as best as I can.” She said with a wicked smile and then went to the sink and dropped the rats into a bowl of water with a splash. “Aww. Cute little black things.” She cooed, and took out a sharp knife.
She was killing me! That was poor hygiene. Dirty rats that had run into the forest doing different things, she was going to force me into eating them? She took out the first one and laid the knife on it. The rat began to squeak crazily but she turned, threw a smile my way and then returned to eat chopping its head off clean.
I let out a muffled scream as she did so and she chuckled in delight. The smell of rat blood filled the air immediately and my head felt like it was being hit by thunder. An headache from nowhere sprang up and I lunged to be free. Why was she doing this to me?
She cut the large rat into three pieces and took the next one, doing the same to it. My head raged and I felt sick at the sight of it. Seeing the intestines alone nearly made me pass out.
Monica rinsed out the blood, then skinned them, keeping the hairy skin apart, then she rubbed the body with excessive salt before arranging it on a dish and putting the skins next to it.
“All cooked!” She squealed, and came towards me, letting me inhale the sickly scent and I gagged. My head still banged from the disgusting sight of rat blood and my gag reflexes were already working even before the rats made it into my mouth.
She dropped the plate on a table next to me and peeled off the tape on my mouth hard.
I screamed as it stung hard but before I could let out a more powerful scream, her hands had grabbed my mouth and she had stuffed the hairy rat skins into my mouth.
The bitter taste filled my mouth and I gagged in utter disgust but she kept on pushing it further and further. She pushed her fingers into my mouth and forced my protesting throat to accept it.
I took a huge swallow and tried to scream but before I could, squishy intestines were stuffed into my mouth, tears spilled down my eyes and I kept on gagging painfully but Monica simply laughed in glee forcing piece after piece of raw rat meat with excessive salt into my mouth.
“Scream, and I kill you.” She threatened when she was done and left me.
I sobbed quietly as my stomach churned and gave sickly warnings. I was going to be sick, I was going to throw up.
Unfortunately for me, Monica stayed throughout the night watching comic videos and sometime around dawn when she had slept, I puked.
I threw everything up and it spilled onto my sweatshirt. Even the sight of it disgusted me and I continued to puke. Monica opened her eyes but turned away with a scowl on her face while I continued to puke, feel lightheaded and sick.
The grounded mess fell onto my skirt and I felt even more miserable. I smelled like sweat, urine and puke. Even if Monica were to try to go easy on me, she wouldn’t when I slept like the worst thing ever.
Every little sound I made, made her stir. Her hearing was perfect. She was like a watch dog and once in the middle of the night, she threw a bowl made of stainless steel at me and the room had gone upside down leaving me with a massive headache.
Morning rose in the sky, bright and beautiful but Monica didn’t leave. She walked around the cabin with her phone, giggling uncontrollably and telling me night was drawing nearer and I was to prepare for a flight or for death.
Later in the evening, she left the cabin, telling me she’d be back and after some minutes, I seized my chance.
Unlike the previous day when I wasted my opportunity, I had a whole plan formed in my head.
I shifted contiously on the chair, giving muffled grunts as a new tape had been placed over my mouth, sealing them and the chair jerked slowly towards the knife.
When I got close to the knife, reached out with my toes, shifting it closer and closer and it was a tough job as the pen kept on slipping out of sweaty toes.
I had never tried so hard for anything in my life more than the way I tried hard to grasp the pen knife. Finally, after minutes of beads of sweat rolling down my face, I finally picked it up and held onto it firmly, pressing down on it with my big toe.
Then, I prepared for the painful part. ‘No pain, no gain’ as the popular saying went.
I braced myself, delivering a powerful hit with my back onto the chair and the chair shook, lifting itself on its hind legs alone and with a quick crash, it went backwards falling and my own weight pressed down on my arms which had been tied behind the chair.
I let out a scream that was muffled, and cried as a powerful pang of pain ran up my arms. For a moment, I thought they were broken as aches ran through it. I bit hard on the insides of my cheek and drew blood just to drown out the pain.
And after minutes of trying my best to ignore the shooting pain, I finally had time to look at the pen that had landed on my tummy after the fall.
While I was falling, I had released the pen so the force would send it flying and it had worked well. Ignoring the pain in my arm, I turned slightly to push the pen on the floor, and then turned to the other side so my tied hands were closer to the knife.
Then I searched around for it with my fingers, breathing heavily with my heart in my mouth, hoping Monica wouldn’t suddenly spring up on me and decide to kill me instantly.
Finally, I found the pen and grabbed it happily, turning it over in my hands to find the button. My heart raced faster as I found it and when I pressed it, it slid upwards, slicing my palms and wrists slightly.
I grunted lightly and turned the knife carefully, working it over and over slowly cutting through it.
Yes… yes it was doing the job! I almost cried in happiness as I felt the ropes loosening and immediately it was lose enough, I dropped the knife and tugged my hands free. I took off the tape from my mouth painfully and pressed on it as the pain was a little too much.
I massaged my wrists to get the feeling back into them and rose from the chair, snatching the knife once more and working furiously on the ropes binding my ankles.
I tugged my ankles free and massaged them too and when I stood, I staggered, crashing onto the table and holding onto it carefully as the room in the cabin swirled and everything in it swam, and after taking deep breaths, I dashed for the window, taking only the knife with me and jumped out of it.
When I was out, I ripped the sweatshirt I was wearing after tearing it a little with the knife and I was rid of its mess.
It was dark already and the refreshing breeze ruffled through my hair and through the camisole I had on.
I stuffed the knife into my skirt pocket and let my limbs go as wide as they wanted to. I had never felt so alive as in that moment. My fingers and palm were cold with sweat and my legs felt a little slippery in my shoes.
My hair flowed behind me and tears flowed down my face as I ran through the unfamiliar forest, winding my way through trees and branches. I didn’t have to see Monica’s ugly face as long as I made it through the forest. My heart thudded in my chest, and I didn’t even look backwards. I stumbled a few times but I got back up immediately.
My legs and arms shook like they would give way and I cried out loud as I ran because I wasn’t sure I could make it, but the only thought that kept me going was that…
I was free. I was finally free!