Bitchin'

After Hannah was tightly packed and my trunk locked again, I got back in the car and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Pete had asked me to not hang up, so that he could listen to how things would proceed.

"Didn't sound bad", he said with amusement in his voice. "I didn't understand everything, with your phone in your pocket. But I got that shit-talk about the hard way and the harder way - a real classic!"

"Are you taking the piss?", I asked him baffled. "I've just electroshocked a woman and tied her up in my trunk and you have the nerve to make jokes?"

"I find that humor is most welcome in dire situations", he said more genuinely. "And I really think that you did well. So far it's quite impressive how you handle this, without freaking out or fainting or whatever."

Is put a cigarette between my lips and lit it. "Thanks mate", I said. "But wait until I get time to really think about this shit. There is definitely a freakout on the horizon."

"Let's not give your brain that chance then. Do you have a place where you can take Hannah?"

I blinked. I forgot inhaling the smoke. "What the fuck... I thought you would come fetch her. You want me to bring her to a place of mine?"

"Sure, why not? I just told you that I'm impressed by your coolness. You already earned yourself ten thousand - want to earn another ten?"

"Can I even believe you that you have so much money?"

"Sure you can. Listen Jennifer, I have some of your personal records in front of me. Is it true that you've inherited your dad's house after his death?"

"I have. But it's always been a shithole, and I haven't been there for at least two years. It will not have improved."

"Fair enough, but on the map it looks like the place is very secluded. It would be perfect as a place to keep Hannah hidden from folks. Drive there and make sure she spends an uncomfortable, safe night at this place. Tomorrow morning you'll receive a package with the first ten thousand. Would that be enough proof of my sincerity?"

"Well, maybe not your 'sincerity', but proof for your spending power at least."

I could hear that Pete was smiling. "You are right. Proof of my sincerity has to come from elsewhere I guess. We'll discuss that later. But do we have another deal, for now?"

My thoughts were racing. If he was telling the truth then this was a lot of money I was just earning. How much do you need to pay for therapy when you are fresh out of a coma? A lot of money, that much was sure.

"We have another deal", I said. "If the money really gets to me then we can have another talk."

He agreed. We said goodbye and hung up on each other. I felt very tired and very awake at the same time when I started the engine and left the parking lot, driving into the heart of the night.

My father was a heavy drinker, and I can count with the fingers of one hand the good memories I have about him. But even though he was a weak man and a mean bastard: When he died he had left me the house we had spent most of our good summers in. It was a shabby, run-down place in the country, situated in the blind spot of a small village with approximately three hundred inhabitants. It was surrounded by old meshwork fences and derelict garages and a small piece of woodland, and I had visited it only three or four times since it had become my property. But now I was heading there. I drove for two hours and only stopped once, to get myself a coffee.

I could hear occasional bumping noises coming from the trunk, but they were very weak. I was the only customer at the gas station and so there wasn't anyone else to take notice. I turned the music louder as I drove on. The Ramones are always good for my mood.

The whole neighborhood seemed deserted and at least every second house was empty by now. The road hadn't been cared for in the last years and looked as if there'd been an earthquake recently. Behind the village the road turned into not much more than a muddy path. The house appeared behind some muddy hills when morning was already dawning. When I reached my property I had to get out of the VW and take a chain away that blocked the driveway.

I parked the car in the garage at the side of the old house. I unlocked the front door and entered and looked around, and I found that the place was filled with rubbish and that the air smelled as if something had died in here, moldy and depressing. A lot of memories came back as I checked the house, and most of them were about me coping with shit no child should be forced to cope with. I had thought a lot about Hannah Gehringer during the drive, and combined with those memories I felt less compassion for her than ever before. She wanted to ruin the life of someone who hadn't had much of a good life in any case? Well, she could fuck herself and take more than just a sip of her own medicine.

I prepared some things and then walked back to the car. I unlocked the trunk and looked down at Hannah.

She was a mess: Covered in sweat, her dress stained with oil that had gotten into my trunk somehow, the side of her face bruised, her eyes red with dark rings beneath them. Seeing her like that was kind of shocking - when you see another girl like that you've got the fucking impulse to help her - but I didn't flinch.

"Okay, I'm going to take you out of the trunk and you aren't going to give me any trouble", I said and reached for her. "I don't plan hurting you anymore, so let's..."

Hannah moved so fast I didn't see it coming: Suddenly her hands were in front of her, the tape still clinging to her wrists, but not securing them to each other anymore. How the fuck had she managed to free herself? In the last second before she grabbed the brim of the trunk, raised her legs and kicked me right in the face I saw the diamond-encrusted ring she'd been wearing. How could I have been so fucking stupid to overlook it?

The kick in the head hit me like a... kick in the head essentially. Sure, she was a barefooted, small woman - but she knew how to hurt a person when given the chance. The pain blinded me and I stumbled backwards, just seeing stars and hearing a weird, disorienting buzzing noise. I screamed angry, regained my balance, blinked like crazy to clear my vision. My nose was bleeding. Through the stars I saw Hannah half climbing and half falling out of the trunk. The tape-gag around her head had been loosened already and just remained on her lips to deceive me: She now pulled it away easily and threw it to the ground.

"You're fucking dead!", she hissed and then darted towards the still opened door of my garage.

Well, since she had spent the last two hours in the trunk, 'darting' is kind of an exaggeration: She was still fast, but definitely suffering from a bad case of exhaustion and stiff legs. My problem was that I had just been kicked in the head and that I was not very stable on my feet either. The chase must have looked silly, with me stumbling after her while she wheezed and dragged herself through the garage door.

"Help. Fucking help me now! Is anyone there? HELP ME!" Her voice was shrill, still more angry than scared. She looked around on the compound and it seemed to sink in that there was no one who'd come to save her. She kept running, fast as she could.

And I knew that if she escaped I was in for a lot of bad press, a trial which I could only loose and many years in prison. So I summoned all power that was left and chased after her with an angry, frustrated scream on my lips. I crashed into her from behind, grabbed her and pulled her down with me as I fell, and we rolled over the muddy ground in the yard and struggled with each other.

For a moment it seemed that Hannah would manage to shake me off: She was so fast and agile that she nearly slipped through my fingers. Already she was on her feet again while I was still sliding through the mud. In the last second I managed to grab her left ankle and pull her back.

She lost balance, fell to the ground again, this time with her chin hitting the ground hard. An 'oooffhh...'-noise escaped he throat and I managed to get on top of her. I slung an arm around her throat, used my weight to pin the twitching little bitch to the ground and tighten the chokehold.

Her fingernails dug into my arm, her face got redder with each moment. She tried to bite me but coudnt reach my arm with her teeth. She struggled. She coughed. She wheezed. It took her about fifteen seconds to realize that she had lost the fight.

"I.... give up... you shit-eating... bitch....", Hannah explained wheezing while the veins on her forehead kept swelling and her face turned deep red and puffy. I guess she expected I would now release her from the chokehold.

"That's great", I uttered though clenched teeth. "But I'm not going to give you a second chance to fuck with me. Plus you just called me a shit-eating bitch, bitch. So enjoy your time without any fucking oxygen." And I just kept her in the chokehold while she, realizing what I had just said, recommenced twitching and struggling.

It took me another minute of wresting her before she produced a last wheezing cough and went limp, her lights out. I checked on her pulse and was pretty relieved that it was still there. I had after all not intended to kill her, even though only few things in my life had ever felt so good than choking her. This and tasering her, I had to admit, had been the high points of the last three months for me.

I lifted her from the ground and slung her over my shoulder. I grunted and panted, but managed to drag her into the house. I brought her down into the basement, where most rooms where filled with junk, but one was as good as empty: In my fathers' old workroom there was just a workbench with some rusty old tools in a corner. This was where I had found and already prepared the chains. Now I let Hannah down, pulled that dress off her so that she was only wearing that black lace thong and the fitting lace bra, and then chained her up.

Her wrists I chained on her back, a chain went around her waist like a belt. The wrist-chain was padlocked to the waist-chain. Another chain went around her throat, running down from the back of this 'collar' to her chained hands. I also secured her ankles, with yet another chain, and gave her only about fifteen centimeters leeway between them.

I looked at the choking, wheezing bitch and felt good. Well, actually I felt like someone who was buried in shit all the way to the upper brim of my lower lip, but at least I could be sure that this time, Hannah would not find a way to free herself. Sure, there was the workbench with the rusty tools, but none of these was suitable for picking the padlocks, and the chains themselves were old but very solid. There was nothing here that would help Hannah to break them. The last thing I did was pull the diamond-encrusted ring off her finger.

"I'll bring you a blanket later", I told her as I put the ring into the pocket of my jeans. Hannah stared at me with glassy eyes. Being choked to unconsciousness and waking up as good as naked and chained in a basement had obviously grounded her a little. "I'll also bring you something to drink and food. But if you try to be noisy I swear to God that I'll gag you again with your own fucking panties. Got it?"

Hannah nodded. In her eyes, confused as she might be, there was still murder. "You can't leave me like this", she said calmer, colder. "You can't keep me... chained in here. There is no fucking toilet for instance!" She weakly moved her arms behind her back.

"I'll come back soon. Until then you'll just have to try and not piss yourself. But you know what? Even if you, I don't give a damn."

I left and she didn't scream after me. She didn't even say a word when I locked the door to that room and left her in there only with the light of one old light bulb. I had already climbed half of the staircase back into the house when I thought I heard someone scream in anger and frustration behind me.