Mary Burton - Merciless  

The foul odor of decaying flesh roused the woman from her drugged haze, burning her nostrils and lungs like a freshly snapped ammonia capsule.

She blinked, clawed toward consciousness, searching the pitch-blackness for a landmark to anchor time or place. However, there was nothing except the stench that grew more potent with each hitching breath. She coughed and gagged. The contents of her stomach churned and rose up in her throat.

She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth but discovered the slight movement drove a cutting pain through her muscles and ribs. She froze, didnt want to move, fearing more agony, but nausea overruled everything and had her rolling to her side. Tears burned her eyes as she gripped the edge of the metal table and vomited until her throat burned.

When the worst of the vomiting had stopped, she collapsed on her back, allowing only small shallow breaths as she stared into the darkness. She closed watery eyes and gently swiped her fingertips across her lips. The odors still hovered, but the worst of the nausea had passed.

With the sickness satisfied, there was only the pain. Only. Every square inch of her flesh pulsated. Throbbed. Burned.

Fear rose up, but she quickly wrestled it down. Now was not the time to crumble.

She blinked. Once. Twice. But the fetid darkness didnt diminish. It could have been the middle of the day or night, winter or summer. She couldnt tell.

She tried to rise again, but her insides screamed. Again, she collapsed.

Where was she? What had happened? She had to get free.

Think back.

In the last few weeks, shed sensed that she was being watched. At first shed chocked up the feelings to an overactive imagination. But as much as she denied the feelings, they grew stronger whenever shed stepped out of her apartment, whenever she arrived at work, or whenever she took a Pilates class. Soon shed thought twice before she went anywhere. Shed stopped going to the gym and her favorite nightclubs. Her world shrank to the small path between home and work.

And then the notes arrived. I love you. Together always. You are never out of my mind.

The notes had been a relief. In fact, shed laughed when shed received the first. Of course! Her ex had been her stalker. It had been three weeks since theyd shared a bed or seen each other, but she knew he was the one watching. He enjoyed dark, erotic games. He liked scaring her. Keeping her off balance.

Knowing he was watching, shed worn tighter skirts and sweaters, proudly strutting and hoping she tortured him with jealousy. She met a younger man and took pleasure kissing him, knowing her ex was lurking in the shadows.

When shed found the red velvet box with the ivory pendant nestled inside, shed known shed won. Shed been energized by her power over him, knowing soon hed beg for forgiveness. Men were so easy. So weak.

Oh, God, she whispered.

Someone had been stalking her. Watching. Planning. But it had not been her lover.

Pushing through pain and sickness, she sat up. Im alive. And that counts for something. She repeated the words like a mantra.

She blinked again and again, willing the blackness to fade and the stench and pain to vanish. But no lights magically flicked on. It hurt to breathe, and her thoughts moved like thick muddy waters.

Where had she been last? The theater? Her apartment? The club?

And then she remembered. Shed been at the Duke Street Caf. Thered been an impromptu party. Someone had decided to celebrate another large donation to the theater. The donation ensured that the theater would be able to make its payroll and mount a grander, more expensive production in the spring.

The party had been a glittering, exciting affair, and shed been happy. Thered been lots of champagneso much so, that shed lost count of how many times the waiter had refilled her glass. Of course her ex had not come. He never met up with her at public events. But another old boyfriend had hit on her, and because shed felt so good shed flirted back. It had been fun. Intoxicating.

How had she gone from such magical moments to this cave of horrors?

She ticked through the evenings events. Wine. Music. Singing. A bite or two of food. Some guy, one of her ex-boyfriends buddies, had offered her cocaine, but shed turned him down, knowing the drug would keep her wired most of the night and make her look too puffy for tomorrows photo call.

Had the actor and his friend slipped her something anyway?

Thoughts blurred in her mind. She couldnt cut through the misty mosaic to access the right memories. All she had was the party and then this dark, dank hole that smelled of death. The middle had vanished.

It didnt matter how she got here. What was important was escaping. And if she was good at anything, it was cutting her losses.

As much as she strained to see, she couldnt make out the rooms details. The place was as still as a grave, and then suddenly she heard a tap turn on and water trickle.