Chapter 48 The Twisted Kidnapper
Emma struggled to open her eyes, her head throbbing and dizzy—probably from the recent car crash.
She had a mild concussion! Her stomach churned violently, nausea rising to her throat.
Her hands and feet were bound tightly, her right ankle throbbed with pain, and she sat on the ground with duct tape sealing her mouth shut.
The room was small but surprisingly clean.
Two cameras were set up nearby.
One pointed directly at her.
One positioned to her left.
The lenses gaped like black holes—like two voyeuristic eyes watching her.
Floral curtains covered a small window, barely letting in any light. She could just make out that this looked like a farmhouse, occasionally hearing a dog bark in the distance.
The air was mixed with the rank smell of animals.
The door opened.
A man walked in—long-haired with a full beard, very tall, at least 6'3".
His eyes were sunken and deep-set. When he wasn't speaking, he had the decadent air of a down-and-out artist.
He crouched in front of her, his voice hoarse.
"Don't scream. I'm going to remove the tape."
Emma's eyes widened as she nodded frantically.
The man reached out, his movements not particularly rough, but the tape still stung as it was ripped away.
Ignoring the pain, she immediately spoke, her voice trembling with nervousness.
"Did Zoe send you to kidnap me? What do you want?"
"As long as you don't hurt me, call my family—we can negotiate any amount of money. They'll transfer it immediately!"
The long-haired man twisted his mouth into something that barely resembled a smile.
He looked her up and down.
"You really are beautiful, and smart, too. Too bad, you crossed the wrong person."
He stood up, dusting off his pants.
"Money?"
"That stuff doesn't interest me."
"You cooperate with me honestly, and I promise I won't really hurt you."
Cooperate?
Cooperate with what?
Emma's heart sank, a feeling of dread creeping over her.
The man walked over to the cameras, fiddling with them, adjusting angles and focus.
Then he walked back and crouched in front of her again.
He reached out, his rough fingertips tracing her cheek.
The gesture carried a twisted kind of appreciation.
"Don't touch me!" Emma's whole body tensed, goosebumps erupting across her skin.
"Now then, we're going to film a little drama. Don't worry, it's not pornographic—that vulgar trash could hardly be called art."
The man's tone was casual, as if discussing the weather.
"I've already thought of a title: Beauty and the Beast World."
With that, he suddenly yanked away a cloth covering something on the floor nearby.
Beneath it was a metal cage crammed full of creatures.
Writhing geckos, bloated toads, and several gray mice scurrying frantically.
Various slimy, slippery, furry little animals crowded together.
The visual impact was overwhelming.
Emma took one look and felt her scalp explode, her stomach churning even more violently.
No. She couldn't panic. Absolutely couldn't panic.
She knew that the more afraid she appeared, the more pleased he'd be.
The man seemed very satisfied with her reaction.
He reached directly into the cage with quick, precise movements, pulling out a slippery gecko.
The gecko twisted and struggled in his grasp.
The man paid no attention, holding it up in front of Emma.
"Act one begins now."
He gently placed the gecko on Emma's leg.
The cold sensation seeped through her thin clothing, and Emma began trembling violently.
Her teeth bit down hard on her lower lip, almost drawing blood.
She wanted to scream, wanted to struggle, but with her limbs bound, she couldn't move.
She squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to look.
That cold, moving thing began slowly crawling upward, across her calf, her thigh, her waist.
With every inch it moved, her hair stood on end, her nerves stretched to the breaking point.
She could clearly feel the sensation of those scales scraping against her skin.
Slimy, wet, cold.
This psychopath!
He didn't want money, didn't want her body.
He wanted to completely destroy her mentally!
To break her down, drive her insane.
Once someone's psychological defenses collapsed, they truly became a living corpse.
The man watched her performance, low laughter echoing in her ears.
"Very good, excellent. You're tougher than I expected."
"Honestly, you're the strongest woman I've ever encountered. Not like the others—screaming and crying, really annoying. I usually cut out their tongues to feed to my pets."
The man spoke matter-of-factly, but it wasn't hard to see he was a bloody psychopath.
"Keep it up. As long as you perform well, I told you I won't hurt you."
Emma clenched her jaw, forcing herself not to think about the crawling sensation.
She struggled to regulate her breathing.
She tried to relax her tense muscles, then began a mental conditioning exercise.
'Geckos aren't poisonous.'
'It won't bite, it just looks disgusting.'
'Nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be afraid of.'
Over and over again.
Whether her psychological preparation worked or the gecko was simply wandering aimlessly, it climbed along her arm to her shoulder.
It paused briefly.
Then slid down her other arm, dropped to the floor, and quickly scurried into a corner.
Emma's tense body relaxed slightly.
But her heart was still pounding like it might explode.
The man's smile faded somewhat, replaced by surprise.
He stared at Emma.
"You didn't cry? Didn't scream either?"
"How interesting! I like you more and more!"
He stood up, pulling a knife from behind his back.
The blade gleamed coldly in the dim light.
Holding the knife, he crouched down again, pressing the cold metal against Emma's cheek.
He slid it gently.
"Seems like that wasn't stimulating enough for you."
"How about we try something more exciting?"
The cold sensation and the man's dangerous tone instantly shattered Emma's newly built psychological defenses.
"What do you want to do?"
She screamed out of control, her voice shrill with uncontainable terror.
She watched as the man skillfully used the knife to cut downward, slicing through the buttons of her blouse one by one... Pink lace trim came into view.
Seeing that half-exposed, full curve of her breast was quite the visual feast.
The man froze for a moment, preparing to make a horizontal cut across her chest, when suddenly he hesitated.
"It would be a shame to cut here."
He thought for a few seconds!
Then his sharp knife instantly slashed through the fabric on her left arm, exposing her pale limb.
"Don't... don't touch me!" Emma's voice trembled as she widened her eyes and tried to pull back slightly.
The man grabbed more tape and resealed her mouth.
Then he gripped her shoulder firmly and made a quick, brutal cut.
Emma felt a sharp pain as a 6-inch wound immediately gushed bright red blood.
Blood flowed like a spring down her forearm.
The man nodded with satisfaction, then turned to search for another blood-sucking creature.