The Chemistry of Death

25

Jenny had lost any sense of time. The fevered shaking that had gripped her after she'd finally been left alone had almost stopped. But what was more worrying was how sleepy she was starting to feel. It wasn't a normal tiredness. She had no idea how long she had been down here, but it must have been long enough for her to have missed two, perhaps three of her insulin injections. Now her blood sugar was starting to escalate out of control, and shock was making it worse.

Shock and blood loss.

In the darkness she had no way of gauging how much blood she'd actually lost. Most of the cuts had eventually crusted themselves shut, except the last one. The worst. The bloodied rag that had been her T-shirt was wrapped around her right foot. The cloth had a sticky feel to it now. A good sign, she hoped. It meant the wound wasn't bleeding so heavily any more. But it still hurt. God, it hurt.

It had happened after she'd taken off the filthy wedding dress. As the music box had faltered into silence for a third time, Jenny had stopped too. She had swayed, dizzily, barely able to stay on her feet any longer. She sank to the ground, still wearing the bloodstained dress. She struggled to stay awake, but blackness slowly stole over her vision. She was dimly aware of movement around her, but it seemed increasingly distant. Time passed; then she'd felt herself being prodded roughly.

When she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was the knife.

She raised her head to look up at the man holding it. There was no reason not to any more. She knew now she wasn't going to get out of here alive, whether she could identify him or not.

Even so, she felt her stomach coil as she stared into his face and saw that knowledge confirmed.

He prodded her again with his foot.

'Take it off.'

Using the wall for balance, she rose unsteadily to her feet and fumbled the wedding dress over her head. He snatched it away and stood in front of her. She kept her head bowed, feeling him staring at her nakedness. Her heart thumped painfully. She could smell him, feel his breath on her flesh as he moved closer. Oh, God, what's he going to do? She couldn't keep her eyes from the knife he held at his side, willing him to set it down. Just once. Just one chance, that's all I ask. But he didn't. Slowly, he raised it, letting her see the blade before moving it towards her. She flinched as it pricked her arm.

'Keep still.'

She forced herself to stay immobile. The knife moved over her, pricking her flesh with its tip. Each time a pinpoint of blood would appear, a dark red bead that would swell before trickling down her skin. It hurt, but the anticipation was even worse. She could feel his breathing growing faster, smell the excitement radiating off him like heat. He shuffled even closer. Jenny gave an involuntary gasp and jerked back as one of his boots came down on her toes, and with that the floodgate opened to her panic.

'Get off me!' she yelled, lunging away blindly, forgetting about the rope around her ankle. It pulled her up short, yanking her leg so that she fell heavily. She twisted around as he stood over her. The look in his eyes sent a chill through her. There was nothing human in them, nothing sane.

'I told you to keep still.' His voice was terrifyingly calm. He reached down and took hold of her untethered foot. 'You shouldn't try to run away. I can't let you do that.'

'No! No, I wasn't…'

He wasn't listening. He was stroking her foot with the knife. His expression was rapt as he touched her big toe with the blade.

'This little piggy went to market.' His voice was soft, almost sing-song. He went onto the next toe. 'This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef.'

Onto the third, then the fourth.

'This little piggy had none. And this little piggy…'

Jenny realized what was going to happen an instant before it did. White heat lanced up from her foot as the knife suddenly jerked. She screamed, trying to pull her foot away. He held on to it, watching her thrash and struggle, then let it drop. The severed toe lay like a bloodied pebble on the ground.

'This little piggy didn't try to run away any more.'

As he'd stood over her, knife blade dulled with her blood, she'd thought he was going to finish it. She wanted to plead with him, but some stubbornness held her back. Now she was proud of that much, at least. And she knew it would have done no good anyway. He would only have enjoyed it.

He'd left her then, dragging the planks back into place to shut her in the dark once more. She'd no idea how long ago that was. It could have been hours, minutes, even days. The agony in her foot had settled into a hot, bone-deep throb, and her throat was so dry it felt as though shards of glass were embedded in it. Yet it was becoming more of a struggle than ever for her to remain awake. She'd tried to work again on the rope around her ankle, but the effort was too much. In the darkness she couldn't tell if her vision was blurring, but she knew she was becoming hyperglycaemic, her blood sugar now dangerously high. And without insulin it was only going to get worse.

Assuming she lived long enough.

Jenny wondered why she hadn't been raped. The lust and hate had been obvious, but for some reason the assault hadn't come. Even so, she didn't delude herself. She thought about the face she'd glimpsed in the glare of the match. There was no mercy, no hope for her there. And she was all too aware that she wasn't the first woman to be brought down here. The cuts, the dress, the dancing – they seemed almost part of some incomprehensible ritual.

One way or another, she knew she wouldn't survive it.