The Basement, Unknown Location, Unknown State...
The thundering sound of heavy footsteps echoed rather loudly inside the barely conscious mind of the ailing Oliva Gainsborough. She had not known what had become of her since her unwanted travels in the back of the murderous brute's trunk and knew even less of how long she'd been bound by the wrists and ankles with iron fetters. Yet the footsteps of the monster had been all she knew as she slowly roused from his latest round of dosing. She felt him angry and forceful as he sat her up his disgust almost palpable as his dark eyes moved over her body like that of a barely functioning predator in the wake of her capture. She hated The Monster. He had killed her family and brought her to this dark place where he poked and prodded her at his leisure and she wanted nothing more than to see him dead, his lifeless body at her feet and his eyes twisted in terror. It had been a noble fantasy of course, one that sustained her even in this darkness as he gripped her by the neck and squeezed as his flaring nostrils took in the scent of her hair and rapidly fading perfume.
She resisted him in any fashion she could despite his strength and brutal tactics. Hot wet tears streamed down her supple cheeks as she attempted to fight him until the bitter end no matter what he had in store for her.
"There is a good deal of fight left in you," he growled, his deep baritone voice rumbling like thunder in her ears and trickling down her spine. "Good, I like a bit of feistiness now and again."
Olivia growled as she attempted to push him off her but it had been to no avail. Her reward of sorts had been a very stinging slap across her already puffy cheek by way of his firm hand and she crumbled to the floor dazed and embittered about her situation. She felt him pull her close to him his large body teeming with rippling muscle in the wake of the tension moving through them. He'd been poised for attack and flashed his incredibly white sharp rows of perfect teeth as his face, which had been bearded and filled with an expression of malice, hovered above hers.
Up close, his giddy dark eyes had made her uneasy but she held fast to her outrage and refused to give him the satisfaction of tasting even an ounce of her hidden fear of him. He seemed to relish her attempt to keep him at bay and suppress her fears of him. Once more his right hand had wrapped around her throat squeezing as she glared back at him slightly feeling light-headed in the wake of his torment.
She could see the bodies of her loved ones as they littered the mansion where she'd called home. The blood that stained the formerly polished marble and hardwood floors had never left her mind as she recalled having slipped in it. He had come at her so fast, and so viciously tackling her and pinning her against a nearby wall his large hand at her throat and his gun pointed at her forehead. She felt the heat from the still-smoking barrel amid the silencer and tears streamed down her cheeks in the wake of the realization that he could very well end her young life as he had so many others that night.
The rumbling of thunder and the flashing of lightning had done little to make her feel any less anxious as the brute gripped her limp arm and injected her with something. He'd done the same here and now as he gripped her limp body a greedy wicked look filed across his face as he plunged the needle into her bare arm.
Despite her attempts at protest, she'd been powerless against him and whatever he'd put in the needle and she knew that he'd known it all too well as the rather giddy display of bliss that flickered behind his dark eyes made her tremble in terror.
He was truly a Monster.
A vile and vicious Monster that wouldn't hesitate to end her young life if she'd given him the chance or the mysterious boss of his had given the order.
The last thing she heard had been his mocking baritone drawl as he left her to her drug-induced slumber.
"Night night Princess," he said before she heard the heaviness of his footsteps receed as he left her alone in the basement once more.
More tears cascaded down Olivia's cold cheeks as she sunk further into the darkness as the drugs began their rapid hold on her.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
The Kitchen, Unknown Location, Unknown State...
The last thing the lone hitman had done was ensure the lock on the basement hatch had been in place as he moved from the door toward the main portion of the strange old-style safehouse. Where he'd been laying low ever since carrying out his boss's direct orders for the hit on the Gainsborough family. He had no personal skin in the game, as they had not been people he knew of nor cared about before getting the assignment. He simply did his job as he always had only this time there had been a bit of a hiccup in terms of the dealings.
The last remaining member of the Gainsborough family had been left alive and he'd kept her locked in the basement cellar of the old-style safe house until further notice. He had not been much in the mood for company, nor did he fancy a round of babysitting but his boss had been adamant about his keeping the girl alive and giving the illusion of her murder at his hands. She'd been the true target after all and one he had been more than willing to send to an early grave if the boss desired with the given order.
The lone hitman moved through the main portion of the old-style kitchen of his safehouse with all the manner of ease of a ghostly presence in the wake of his search for a subtle manner of easing his annoyance via a long stiff drink. He'd been surprised to find a bottle of old bourbon in one of the cabinets and a glass. He rinsed the glass thoroughly and turned his attention to the bottle which had been half full.
The only measure of sustenance he'd brought to this place as a means of celebrating yet another successful hit.