Fatal Wounds

Postby bondmage » Sun Jun 03, 2012 8:06 pm

Hi peeps! I'm new here! This is my first story that I have posted on this forum, so bare with me guys :P


Fatal Wounds


It was twelve thirty. Darkness shrouded the sky, covering the bright pale skyline. I was late and I promised that I would not stay out after midnight. I was pressured to stay out longer with my friends and I walked in desperation, scurrying as fast I could to arrive at my destination quicker.

As I rapidly pace the thick pavement, I hear a thumping echo. The volume of the sound increases steadily, until I realize that someone was behind me. Ahead of me lay a blanket of darkness, waiting for my arrival. My legs trembled uncontrollably, triggering a chilling sensation through my body. I move into a bolt. I sprint my way through the shadows as fast I can with a burning sense of awareness that I was being followed. Suddenly, a gangling hand grabs me by the shoulder. The firm grip of the grasp was inescapable. The pursuer drags me protesting along the concrete as if I were a criminal. I yell out in pain and agony, as the asphalt scrapes the skin of my legs. I attempt to gain the attention of the nearest bystander.
“Help! Will somebody help me, please!” but the few individuals that were around turned hurriedly away – afraid. The pursuer refuses to let go, and tightens his grasp. He clamps his right hand over my mouth, to mute any further shrieks.

We approach a dark van, accompanied by a vivid shadow. The shadow was a woman, a thin, black-haired girl who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who recently recovered from drugs. The girl orders me to enter the van but I am a confused heap, frozen. The pursuer pulls me up to my feet, clinging viciously to my arm, roughly shoving me into the van.
“Get….in now!” he demands, pointing a pistol near my face. For the first time, I see the face of the pursuer. A broad scar is ripped across his face which I immediately recognized; it was a face not easily forgotten. I vaguely remember seeing him on television. He was on the top of the fugitive list, for brutally murdering about ten people. With brute force, he throws me into the van. The woman follows me inside, closing the door behind her. My heart was pumping at a rapid rate. I had no idea where they were taking me. I was shivering, exhausted, and petrified. The girl takes out a handkerchief, appearing as if she was going to wipe her face. Abruptly, she forces the handkerchief (chloroformed) into my mouth. The next second, everything goes blank. Silence…

I wake up to see a bright light shining upon me. I can hear the whistling of birds. I tilt my head to observe my surroundings. I realize that I was in a room. My head and body aching consistently. I struggle to stretch my hands and legs, realizing they were tightly wrapped with rope. In frustration, I attempt to scream. The shriek of irritation is muffled by the duct tape that was placed on top of my mouth.
“Mrrrphhhh, Mrppphhh!” A man enters the room, followed by the scrawny looking lady. He threatens me by pointing his pistol at me, so I thought it was wise not to aggravate the man.
“Do not do anything foolish or I will be forced to kill you” he threatens. My heart was pumping faster than ever. Sweat was running in streams down my back. In another attempt to scream, it fails again, due to the gag. The man holsters his weapon, and heads towards the door. The girl smirks at me, and follows him outside.


I spent, what felt like an hour waiting for someone to rescue me. Suddenly, the door swung open again and for a second I thought that it was the Police but unfortunately, it was the woman. She had brought me some water to drink judging by the glass that she had in her hands. Carefully, she removes the duct tape off my mouth, and throws it on the floor.
“What are you going to do with me?” I plead.
“We set out a ransom to your family, and you will be out of here in no time” she replies, softly.
“Please! let me go! I don’t want to die.” I beg the girl. She ignores the plead and grabs the glass of water. She lifts up my chin, into a comfortable position for drinking liquid.
“Shhhh! Drink up. You look thirsty.” she whispers. Cautiously, she places the glass near my mouth. The water refreshes my warm, dehydrated body, as it enters into my mouth.
“Thanks, I really appreciate that.” Effortlessly, she smiles at me.
“No problem, always a pleasure to serve hostages”. she replies, sarcastically. Abruptly, she walks into the centre of the room. A roll of duct tape is on the desk. She strips off about four inches of it, and walks towards me. Vigilantly, she sealed my lips tightly with the tape.

I wait impatiently. Suddenly, excitingly I hear the wails of a Police Siren. At the exact moment, the man enters the room. Looking depressed, he draws his weapon. The gag is stripped off my mouth again. He shoves the gun into my mouth. Seconds later, two police officers barge into the room. The silver metal tasted of lead and was warm on my tongue. My captor, his face bleeding, smiled and revealed his bloody teeth. I stare at him viciously, not daring to make any foolish moves. I realized that I was in a checkmate position. Both my hands were grasped tightly with the thick rope. What shall I do? Should I collapse my chair onto the side so that the police have sufficient time to clearly shoot him? Will I be quick enough? Or will there be a bloody red gaping hole in my mouth? I think it over, acknowledging the consequences that I will deal with for executing the stunt. With great effort, I move violently thrashing about hoping to be released from the binds. My chair topples over, and my hands are released from the bonds. Instantly, the man attempts to shoot one of the police officers. Reluctantly, he misses his shot. At the same time, one of the police officers retaliates and shoots him in the stomach, and the girl draws her pistol out of her holster. Coincidentally, the captor drops his pistol next to my hand. Without any thought, I lift up the weapon and shoot three times into the girl’s torso. With a sigh of relief, I realised that if I did not kill her, she would have killed me, or one of the police officers. Without predicting the future, I thought with considerable relief the nightmare was over. Or was it?

I remove the remaining bonds that were clinging firmly around my legs. I pull myself up, realizing that I had just killed a human being, but inwardly knowing it was entirely self-defence. I stare at the police officers. They stare back with their jaws wide open, petrified.
“What’s wrong?” I ask due to their state of shock. They point at the girl. Instantly, I gasp in horror. My stomach churns. A shiny small object glares at me. The officer takes out a transmitter. He said two words; the two words that I knew would change my life forever.
“Officer down”.

Re: Fatal Wounds

Postby Jack Roper » Sun Jun 03, 2012 8:51 pm

Very good story. Please continue if you feel there is more to this.

Re: Fatal Wounds

Postby kidnapplz » Mon Jun 04, 2012 7:59 am

oh please go on. what a great story