The Chemistry of Death

10

The music floated through the shadowed room, its off-key notes dancing through the objects hanging from the low ceiling. Moving almost in counterpoint to it, the bead of dark liquid traced a crooked line, gaining momentum as gravity finally claimed it. As it fell it formed a perfect sphere, only for its short-lived symmetry to end as it burst against the ground.

Lyn starred dumbly at the blood as it ran down her arm, dripping off her fingers to spatter onto the floor. It had formed a small but spreading puddle, already beginning to thicken and clot at the edges. The pain from the cut had merged with that from all the others, the hurt from one becoming indistinguishable from the rest. The blood from them smeared her skin in an abstract pattern of cruelty.

She wobbled unsteadily on her feet as the discordant music slowed to a stop. Thankful it had ended, she leaned against the rough stone of the wall for support, becoming aware once again of the bite of the rope tied around her ankle. Her fingertips were torn from the futile hours spent trying to untie it as she lay in darkness. But the knot remained as unyielding now as ever.

She had passed beyond the initial feelings of disbelief and betrayal to a state almost of resignation. There was no pity for her in this dark room, she knew that much. No chance of mercy. Still, she had to try. Shielding her eyes from the harshness of the light focused on her, she tried to see into the shadows where her captor sat and watched.

'Please…' Her voice was a parched croak she barely recognized. 'Please, why are you doing this?'

Her question was met by silence, broken only by the sound of his breathing. The smell of burning tobacco hung in the air. There was rustling, an indistinct sound of movement.

Then the music began to play again.