After an almighty shove with my right elbow my cellar door finally flung open with a bang and bounced back off the wall. The putrid stench of fear and excrement readily greeted me as I leant on the rough stone walls on either side of me for support. I carefully made my way down the narrow steps. I pulled at the light cord. It refused to work. It didn’t matter, the moonlight was bright tonight and the window at the top of the back wall did a good enough job of illuminating the dank room.
Her naked body was curled up into a tight ball. The heavy, rusty chain on her right ankle was still intact, fixed to a water pipe, holding her in place. Even if she was alive she’d only have a metre or so to move. There was limited chance of her attacking back. Her green tinged skin, the result of three weeks in total darkness looked slimy and dough like, almost like I could scrape chunks of it off with my nails. Her once blonde hair was matted beyond recognition and was now grey. I took great delight in seeing her like that; so fragile, so helpless. She didn’t even look human I chuckled. I had an almighty urge to kick the mess in the corner but I restrained myself and took a few deep breaths. I knew that I’d have to get rid of her quickly, before anyone found out that it was me that took her away.
First though, I needed to find out whether she was dead. Picking up the blood splattered broom to the left of my feet, my favourite torture tool, I walked cautiously towards her. My hands shook in anticipation. I held out the broom with a fully extended arm and poked her thigh. She felt rigid and the force of my poke made her lifeless body collapse onto her side into the foetal position. I walked a little closer, my steps precise and military......