When the big man would come back, he’d simply stick her with the needle, the drugs rendering her unconscious once again. And each time, she would awaken in the small, concrete room.
It was a vicious, horrible cycle. One she prayed would end soon.
“Why do you keep doing this?” Her dry, rough voice rasped. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Get it over with.” As usual, the man didn’t speak as he turned and walked away. “You bastard!” she screamed, her throat sore and dry.
He shut the door behind him.
Ellena pulled at the plastic strips encircling her wrists and ankles. But her efforts were in vain. Staring down at her raw, bloody wrists, she wept at the unfairness of it all.
Sometime later—she had no idea how much time had passed—the door opened. This time, when she looked up, she didn’t see the dark-haired man. She saw Henry Radcliff.
Her breathing picked up, and her pulse raced as he approached her.
Stopping in front of her, he leaned down so they were eye-to-eye. “It’s time.”
Ellena drew in a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm herself as she waited for him to reach for the instruments. But he didn’t turn away. Instead, his smile was pure evil as he reached for her neck and squeezed.
His grip was so tight, she immediately saw stars. Her head throbbed, her eyes watering as she struggled for a breath she knew wouldn’t come. Oddly, several questions came to mind as she was being strangled…
Why go through the trouble of kidnapping me just to kill me?
Why make me come to this room and then drug me over and over?
Why kill me now when you said you were going to make Gabe watch?
Ellena’s oxygen-starved mind pictured his handsome face. More tears spilled from her eyes as she thought about the precious time they’d been given and what a gift it had been.
The last thing she saw before everything went black was the way Radcliff looked into her eyes with utter enjoyment, and the sick feeling she got from knowing he enjoyed squeezing the life out of her.
Then he let go.
Ellena’s wide eyes shot open. She gasped, coughing and sucking in as much air as her depleted lungs would take. Radcliff was still standing in front of her, smirking.
“Why are…you doing…this?” She spoke between coughing fits. “What do you…want?”
“I wanted to know what Ellis shared with you.”
“I already told you.” Ellena coughed again. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
“I know.” Radcliff leaned down to her again, his fingertips brushing some wayward curls from her face. “I believe you.”
Confused she asked, “Then why go through all of this?”
He stood tall, speaking with an eerie calm. “Because I can.”
Oh, God. Radcliff wasn’t just a crooked politician trying to cover his ass. He wasenjoyingthis.
As her oxygen levels returned to normal, Ellena’s professional training began to kick in. She studied the man with a psychologist’s eye. Catalogued his behavior, demeanor, and speech. It didn’t take long for her to realize she was staring back at a clinically diagnosable sociopath.
“Figure me out yet, Dr. Dawson?” He stepped back a few inches.
“Not that hard, really. You’re a narcissistic sociopath with homicidal tendencies. You live for attention. Have an innate need to be admired and loved, even though you’re incapable of expressing those same thoughts and emotions toward anyone else. You’re like the perfect politician, really.” Ellena snorted. “I can see why your party chose you to run. Of course, I’m sure they aren’t aware of your hidden…passion, shall we say?”
“Passion?” he asked, appearing genuinely intrigued.
Of course, he is…you’re talking about him. Keep it up, maybe it’ll buy you some time.
“Yes, Governor. Passion. You enjoy doing things like this.” Ellena glanced down at her bloody restraints. “I suspect it’s always been there, hiding just beneath the surface. Tell me. Were you really drunk when you dropped that bomb on those poor people, or did you just use that as a cover?
