Chapter 221 Kidnapping!
A sharp, tearing noise sliced through the air, sending a chill down Harper's spine.
"Ah!" Her gasp filled the room, the drug still gripping her like a vise, rendering her limbs heavy and useless.
"Please, don't hurt me," she pleaded, straining against her weakened state, tears seeping through the blindfold covering her eyes.
Slowly, the figure before her began to sharpen into focus, revealing a stranger's silhouette—definitely not Francis.
He stood silent, a mysterious presence in the dimness, his sudden proximity sending a wave of unfamiliar scent washing over her.
Despite the odd sense of recognition clouding her thoughts, fear clenched at her heart. "What do you want?"
His touch grazed her skin, fingers sliding down to pluck at the pendant nestled against her neck.
"Is this yours?" His voice, rough and distorted, as if altered by a voice changer.
With a nod, Harper affirmed, "Yes, it's mine. It's not worth much. Please, I can give you money."
This pendant wasn't just a trinket; it carried a lifetime of memories, a precious heirloom from her grandmother's safekeeping, returned to her before the old lady passed away. It held within it a tapestry of cherished moments she couldn't bear to lose.
The man paused, a glint of recognition flickering in his eyes as he exhaled softly. "It's you?"
A subtle tremor laced his words, a vulnerability surfacing beneath his demeanor.
Harper, taken aback, felt the stranger's scent envelop her again, freezing her in fear, but she could hardly protect herself.
In a surprising turn, he carefully fastened the pendant back around her neck, his touch unexpectedly gentle, a fleeting moment of compassion amidst the chaos.
A fleeting wave of gratitude washed over her as she contemplated this small act of kindness, but a throbbing ache in her head clouded her thoughts, leaving her dazed and disoriented.
As the door swung shut behind the departing stranger, Harper relaxed slightly, breathing a tentative sigh of relief, only to be abruptly jarred back to reality as another intruder barged in.
Before she could utter a word, a harsh blow struck her neck, plunging her once more into unconsciousness.
Time seemed an elusive concept as Harper stirred back to consciousness, jolted awake by a cascade of icy water. Her eyes fluttered open, confirming her entrapment with bound hands and a limited range of movement, her feet the only solace of mobility.
Surveying the dilapidated surroundings of what seemed to be an abandoned school building, littered with shattered furniture, Harper found herself perched ominously on a raised platform, evoking a sense of déjà vu from a past abduction.
Her skin prickled with unease as she recognized the grim familiarity of the scene before her, a sense of impending dread settling in.
Across from her, Amelia's visage appeared more distorted, haunted by unseen horrors, a question escaping her lips in a disturbed whisper, "How can you still sleep through this?"
Harper, attempting to reason with the disturbed woman before her, implored, "Amelia, you've kidnapped me twice already. Do you really want to pile on more crimes to your record?"
"What do you know about crime?" Amelia's outburst shattered the solemn air as she tore off her hat and mask, revealing a visage marred by grotesque wounds, a surreal horror in the flickering candlelight.
The sight of Amelia's disfigured face rendered Harper speechless, the repugnant odor of decay wafting from the festering wounds proving almost unbearable.
Drawing closer, Amelia's distorted visage contorted with agony as she hissed, "This is the true crime! My face is a ruin. Crimes and consequences mean nothing to me now."
Harper's widened eyes mirrored her shock, words failing to escape as the ghastly truth unfolded before her. Amelia's haunting appearance transcended nightmares, a chilling reminder of the depths of despair she had plunged into.
With a guttural roar, Amelia divulged, "Do you know how I got like this?"
As Harper struggled against her restraints, she listened intently, her voice barely a whisper as she inquired, "How?"
"It's all thanks to Francis. He had his guys combing everywhere, working with the cops to shut down any escape plan of mine. Broke, I had to lay low on this tiny coastal island, where this weathered fisherman, bout' fifty years old, took me in."
Amelia drifted into her memories. On the first day, the fisherman had been kind, giving her food and clean clothes.
At night, with nowhere else to go, Amelia followed him to his island. Little had she known, that was the start of her nightmare.
The old fisherman ran a twisted operation, holding captive women of all ages like caged birds. He had this sick cycle - one gal dies, he replaced her with another.
When Amelia stepped onto the scene, the girl before her was already hanging onto life by a thread, cuts oozing crimson. And the fisherman? He'd casually sprinkle salt on her wounds, muttering, "This way, it won't stink."
It was like trading one nightmare for another. Amelia's whole body went cold with dread, too terrified to even put up a fight.
Days turned to drudgery, where she'd slave away in that hellhole's kitchen and laundry room for the fisherman. Nights? That's when the real horror show began. He'd get his kick from these strange sea drugs and do unspeakable things to her.
Locked in the house one fateful day while he went fishing, she saw her end lingering close like a dark shadow; Her body had no value left for him now.
That fateful night, luck tipped in Amelia's favor as the fisherman returned empty-handed. Amelia, seizing her chance, spiked his drink with an overdose of his own drugs, turning them into a lethal cocktail.
As the old fisherman met his end, Amelia set ablaze to the house of horrors and fled on his boat, taking with her some of his ill-gotten money before ducking into a rundown motel to lay low.
Later, news of the blazed island made headlines, revealing a gruesome truth - the fisherman was no simple hermit but a monstrous murderer.
Holed up for over a week, funds drying up, Amelia found a mysterious package in her motel room one day containing cash, a phone, and enigmaticly, Harper's address. A call came, offering a chance at vengeance with a set of cryptic instructions to follow.
Finally, the day came when she successfully kidnapped Harper. But she hadn't expected the mysterious masked man who had helped her to stop her and take Harper away suddenly.
Last time, she had failed because of two foolish men, this time, she couldn't allow it. So she took advantage of the man's distraction to steal Harper away again and tie her up here.
Upon hearing Amelia's vengeful intent, Harper harbored no hint of pity, seeing Amelia as architect of her own choices and consequences.
Amelia had been taken to the island, and since she had killed the fisherman in the end, it meant she had many chances to escape before. But she was too afraid to face justice, preferring to endure inhumane abuse.
Harper calmly asked her, "What do you want now?"
"What do I want?" Facing Harper's resolute gaze, she brandished the knife, eyes glinting with a thirst for retribution. "You and Francis, you'll pay for what you did!"
Harper's composure faltered at the glimmering blade, pulse quickening in the face of impending danger.
Forcing herself to calm down, she said, "Amelia, haven't you heard about the news? Francis and I divorced a long time ago."
"You two are divorced?" Amelia looked surprised.
Harper tried to appeal to her reason. "Even if you kill me, he won't care. But if you kill me, you won't get away with it! If you want money, I can give you the money."
Amelia laughed with her coarse, unpleasant voice.
"You say he divorced you, but when I asked him for twenty million dollars, do you know what he said?"
Harper continued to struggle with the ropes on her hands and asked, "What did he say?"
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