ANGELS AND GHOSTS

Messages From The Grave

Struggling, like What-the-fuck struggling.

She tried to open her eyes, and the thought hit her that maybe they were open, just that she couldn’t see.

And lying?

The back of her head throbbed, like a Jesus-and-Mary throb, but through the confusion she knew that she was lying down, and she wanted to push up, but the arms that could initiate the push, seemed to be behind her. Instinctively, her feet kicked out, or not so much kicked, they wriggled. With confusion and anxiety multiplying quickly, screaming out, What the fuck, was an option, although her mouth was already open, something in her mouth, something that was wet with saliva, something that made her tense …

Her eyes were semi-open, but no vision available, only darkness. Her head throbbed, although it didn’t really matter anymore, because she understood why her hands couldn’t push her up… they were tied behind her. Feet, a wriggle; her feet tied. She tried to bite down, but it was too tight; a gag around her mouth.

Extreme anxiety has to ability to replay your last few moments of consciousness, and Rachael’s last few moments came flooding back into her mind; slinking down the hallway and sneaking up on him, and then … what?

Eyes, mouth, hands, feet all tied or bound, she lying down like a sacrificial offering, and the quiet hum of a car captured her attention. Helpless, bound, blindfolded and gagged, she shimmied and wriggled, then she froze as a voice stated, “She’s moving!”

Voice, a voice she recognised. Rachael trembled; the voice belonging to Ivan Cummings.

A moment ticked by, Rachael not understanding what had happened, then she released a startled, encumbered gasp when she heard the second voice.

“Hey Rach, how ya doing?”

She would’ve closed her eyes if she could have, but they seemed to be caught up in the blindfold; although she knew that the second voice was the beginning of a brand-new nightmare.

Silvanio Rocello.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Her head still throbbed, although she became conscious of the car slowing and curving, then picking up speed again.

“Rach, little Miss Terina, for our first fuck, I wanted somewhere romantic, you know, under the stars, like I mean chicks love that shit, don’t they?”

Rachael’s life didn’t flash before her eyes, but her immediate future did … this was it, the end of the road.

“Mister Mayor, like we discussed, I fuck her first, then you do whatever you need to do.” Silvanio declared brightly.

“That seems reasonable,” Cummings began, “But also as discussed, before we bury our little guest, I’d like the opportunity to give her a proper farewell.”

“Nahh, we just fuck her then bury her.” Silvanio stated.

“How does this sound?” Cummings asked. “We strip her off, we fuck her, then we introduce a little, I dunno, introduce a little pain into the event.”

“Ivan my friend, when I’m fucking the little bitch, she’s gunna know all about pain, because I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

“Okay, so how’s this,” Cummings asked brightly, “Whoever hurts her the most, gets a prize?”

Rachael heard a cackled laugh, then an agreement, “You’re on.”

“What are you thinking,” Cummings asked, “Should we bury her while she’s still alive?”

“Yeah, I like the way you’re thinking pal,” Silvanio laughed. “Could there be any worse way to die?”

“So little Miss Terina…” His voice was more solid now, and Rachael imagined that he was facing her, looking at her. “I guess the moral of the story is that you don’t fuck with me!” Cummings declared.

“Or me!” Rocello added.

The car slowed, swerved, then accelerated.

Rachael was so tense, she was trembling, although she tried to relax her limbs as the reality settled in; yeah, this was real, her days weren’t numbered, her hours were, and she was going to die. Rachael had actually seen it once, seen it with her very own eyes. The only female she had ever killed had let her head sag as it had coursed through her being and washed into her defeated expression, and the emotion was clearly evident in everything she did at that precise moment; acceptance.

The car slowed and Rachael could almost picture the spot as she felt the car pulling to a halt.

A car door opened, and Silvanio said brightly, “What a beautiful night!”

The other front door opened, then footsteps scrunched in the gravel, then a back door opened.

Hands under her armpits, pulling, and she fought against her natural instinct to thrash around, tried to remain loose, and she felt her shackled feet hit the door-guard, then felt her feet on the gravel. Not even a moment ticked by, when she was lifted, hoiked over a shoulder, then the hoiker began walking, his after-shave drifting into her nostrils, and unfortunately, his voice boomed into her left ear. “Rach … nahh, maybe I should call you Baby since this is going to be our first intimate occasion together; so Baby, I wanted to take you out to dinner and then see a movie and do all the foreplay and shit, but seriously, I think this is more romantic, you know, under the stars.”

Rachael felt him push up the embankment, then he settled into stride.

“So yeah, this is kinda like a double date, only difference being that me and the soon-to-be Mayor of Middleton are dating the same chick, see.”

“She seems quiet tonight.” Cummings noted sarcastically.

Slung across his shoulder, Rachael bounced with each of his steps, dry leaves and twigs snapping under the footfall.

The old saying swirled around in her mind. Better to die on your feet, than live on your knees.

She understood that there was nothing she could do, because her date tonight was with death, although she resolved to make it as tough for them as she possibly could. Quite obviously, they both intended to rape her, and for that happen, the rope around her ankles would probably need to be cut, and if it was, she would lash out as viciously as she could. She would make it as hard as possible for them, and that might mean that they would beat the living daylights out of her before they raped her and killed her, but whatever the case, she was going to fight until her last breath.

“Uuuhhh!” he huffed, as he dropped her from five feet, her head and right hip absorbing most of the impact as she hit the ground.

One of them rolled her onto her back, and she felt the blindfold being untied, then vision, Rocello kneeling before her. He threw the gag away then said, “Anyway, how are you Baby?”

She was going to die on her feet, fighting for all she was worth, but right at this moment, silence seemed like her best option.

Rocello grabbed her jaw firmly and speared in for a kiss, and Rachael tossed her head around as she tried to escape the unwanted kiss.

“Hey Baby, Baby, be a good girl okay, or else you’re gunna be sorry!”

Rocello produced a knife, and Rachael froze, until the thought hit her, Yeah, just kill me!

No; unfortunately, no.

No instant death, instead the knife was slipped under her t-shirt, then Rocello dragged the knife up, slicing the t-shirt open. He lifted the middle of her bra and cut it, her breasts falling free.

“Shit,” Cummings laughed. “Her nipples are up! She must be excited about this.”

“Yeah, well this is like a secret chick fantasy, you know, getting raped and slapped around by a couple of studs.” Rocello replied casually.

He undid the button of her jeans and began pulling at the zip. Taking a deep breath, Rachael rolled and wriggled, and after a concerted effort, she rolled onto her right side.

“Hey, hey, stay still!” Rocello commanded. He shoved her onto her back and squatted over her, his knees locking in against her ribs, both his hands pushing her shoulders down, then he grunted, “Drag the jeans down!”

Cummings pulled and dragged against her movements, eventually forcing the jeans down to her ankles, then breathlessly, he asked, “Will I untie her ankles?”

“Fuck no!”

“How do I get her jeans off?”

“The knife idiot; cut them off!”

Cummings sawed the knife through the middle of the jeans, then began sawing at the cuff of the right leg, but he pulled back in frustration and snorted, “Keep her still!”

Rocello locked his knees in tighter and pushed down harder on her shoulders, then Cummings straddled over her legs, and with his back against Rocello’s, he sat on her knees. With the crushing weight on her knees, and with her ankles tied, Rachael could barely move her legs, and she felt the cuffs being cut, then the knife sawing up and cutting the right side of the jeans up to her knees, then the left side. Cummings swivelled and sat on her ankles, then continued cutting from the knee up to the crotch on both sides until the jeans were shredded. He moved to her right side, pushed her hip up, yanked the jeans out from under her then cut the hip corners of her panties, pulled them off, then said, “Silvanio …”

Rocello was still pushing down on her shoulders, and he grunted, “What?”

“She saves her puss.”

Rocello got off her and grabbed the knife, then knelt next to her, cutting the arms of the t-shirt then pulling it out from underneath her, then he cut the bra-straps and tossed the bra away.

Both men stood, one of either side of her, staring at her, and Rocello smirked as he said, “You’re in good nick Terina, and you could have been a stripper.”

Rachael, bound, naked, on her back, tensed as she saw the malicious intent in their eyes. Because of her profession, nothing much scared or intimidated her these days, although she aware enough to realise what she was experiencing right at that moment; true fear. Body shuddering fear, head pounding fear; fear that forced tears to dribble down her cheeks. It was all going to end on this night, although unfortunately, it wouldn’t be quick and painless, her final hours were going to be a torturous nightmare. She sucked on her bottom lip in an attempt to quell the quivering, although she knew that there was nothing she could do to control her trembling limbs. Death was coming, and her body was reacting in the only way available, yet she closed her eyes as she tried to control her racing mind. Concentrating, she brought up the image of the bravest person she had ever met, her Aunty, Jenna Cameron. A surge of courage swept through her as The Avenging Angel appeared in her mind, and even though the Avenging Angel couldn’t spread her wings, she was defiantly hostile. Rachael snapped her eyes open, and after drawing in a stabilizing breath, she thought resolutely, Okay fuckers, bring it on …

*

Mia shook her head, confused.

10.23 pm.

The time meant that she’d probably only been asleep for less than a hour, but now she was awake? She sat up, conscious of a dull throb in her temple. Pulling her knees into her chest, she rested her face on the knees and closed her eyes, as the reason she had been woken up drifted into her mind.

The voice, Jenny’s voice.

She had been awoken by Jenny’s voice, although the reason she was confused was quite obvious; the message didn’t make sense. The girl, the girl …

Still drowsy, Mia thought about the message. Jenny seemed to have the ability to send messages to her, so Mia wondered whether Jenny could receive messages from her. She whispered uncertainly, “Jenny, you’re the girl … aren’t you?”

Mia rocked back in surprise as an urgent message came to her; The girl, the girl, they’re hurting the girl …

Mia was stunned and bemused that the spirit of a long dead girl could communicate with her, although she tried to clear her mind, wanted to be receptive, wanted to understand as she said quietly, “They did hurt you, and we think we found the man.”

Mia swung her legs down, opened her drawer and pulled out the bracelet, skimming the fingers of her left hand across it. And something unsettling happened, as the voice didn’t float into her mind this time, it charged in. THE GIRL, THE GIRL … The voice seemed anxious, seemed as if it needed to be acknowledged, and Mia closed her hands around the bracelet and rocked back and forward, listening, trying to understand. The girl, the girl, they’re hurting the girl …

Mia understood that it was the same message, and while trying to make sense of it, Jenny’s anxious voice charged in again, the message repeating, and Mia grimaced as her brow began throbbing with destructive intent. She spluttered out a breath, the early signs of a migraine were all up and about, the message repeating again, ringing in her mind, and through the confusion, Mia could sense the silhouette in her mind standing, her arms stretched out beseechingly. Mia, the girl, the girl, they’re hurting the girl … then a moments pause before Jenny screamed out the most expansive statement she’d ever delivered. Mia, please … the girl, the girl, they’re hurting the girl … they’re, they’re hurting your friend!

Shaken, Mia stood. My friend?

She didn’t want to ring Rachael and disturb her, although clearly, this wasn’t about what she wanted to do. Somebody was in trouble, and Mia had to help them. So bamboozled, Mia unconsciously tried to block a few words out, but no, maybe they were the important words … your friend … As the realisation hit her, Mia shivered, then she blurted out, “No, God, no, please …”

She picked up her cell and called.

*

Silvanio lifted her and gripped her in a full-Nelson, as Cummings sauntered towards her, smiling as he said, “I wonder how many fingers I can squeeze inside you?”

She tried to bend over to escape the groping hand, but Silvanio was too strong, and he kept her upright, as two, three, four fingers invaded her.

*

Marco was preparing for bed as the Terina cell rang. “Ohhh happy day Teriny, your first call.”

He glanced at the phone, then saw the name flashing on the screen; Mia.

He was simply the cell’s baby-sitter, and his duty was to make phone calls, not answer them, although he couldn’t help himself. “Hello Mia, this is Marco.”

“Ohhh,” Mia gushed in surprise. “Is Rachael there?”

“Rach, arhhh, I think she’s busy.”

“Do you know where she is?”

Marco was caught in two minds; he knew Mia was one of Rachael’s lovers, but he also knew that nobody needed to know what his friend was doing right at this particular moment. “I, I think she’s working tonight, but I’ll tell her that you called.”

“Marco please, I need to know where she is!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to speak to her; do you know where she is?”

“Ummm, she’s working tonight.”

Mia blew out a breath, trying to cool her fizzing mind, then she panted, “Marco, I, I know what she does, and I know she’s following someone, but I need to speak to her.”

Marco frowned then offered quietly, “Ohh jeez, she doesn’t like to be disturbed when she’s working.”

Mia felt a chill, as Rachael’s statement pounded in her mind. If I get an opportunity …

“Can, can you contact her and tell her to call me back when …” she stopped mid-sentence, as Jenny’s anxious statement exploded in her mind. Your friend, your friend … please help her!

Rachael might have got her opportunity, and she might be doing something to the man right as they spoke, or else …

“Marco, can you contact her?” Mia spluttered out breathlessly.

Marco noticed the panic in her voice, and he said, “Arhhh no, not really; is something the matter?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure,” Mia gushed, “But, but Rachael might be in danger!”

“Ummm, Rach is pretty good at what she does, so when she comes in, I’ll get her to call you.”

An anxious statement booming in Mia’s mind; They’re hurting the girl!

“Marco …” her mind fizzed, her brow now pounding, and the trembling silhouette in her mind pleaded, Help her, help her!

So frightened, so concerned, Mia panted, “Can you check her phone and see if she has that policeman’s cell number in there?”

“How come, what’s going on?”

The throbbing was causing her to wince, and she stumbled towards the kitchen, “Marco please, just do it!”

“What’s his name?”

“His name is … ohhh God …” a blank space, the blank space being slowly surrounded by stomping footsteps, and Mia blubbered, “No, no …”

“Mia, what’s the matter?”

“His name, God …” Mia blubbered.

Mia, please, the girl, the girl … your friend …

Shivering, trembling, grimacing, Mia blurted out, “Jamieson, Mark Jamieson!”

Mia put her cell on loud-speaker and placed it on the bench as she tipped two pills into her trembling right hand.

“Ummm, ummm, no Mark Jamieson, although there is an MJ.” Marco stated.

“Can you, can you send it through to me?”

“Sure, but what’s going on?”

“I, I can’t talk now, but please, send it through.”

Mia popped a pill, shakily opened the water and gulped, then popped the second pill. Bracing her arms on the bench, she shook her head in despair, “Please don’t, not now …”