Page 123 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
There! That was it. How perfect. Elsa had placed those blades where Merida could get them. Most were sheathed; obviously Elsa had a care for her own skin. Yet all Merida needed was her hands free. All she needed was… she worked feverishly. Sweat gathered at her spine and slid down in cold, agonizing, itchy trails.
Someone knocked at the door.
Merida froze. She looked at the door. Looked at Elsa.
Benedict? Was it Benedict?
Elsa flushed. Her eyes narrowed with irritation. She whispered, “We’ll pretend there’s no one in here.”
The knocking stopped.
Elsa went to the door, pressed her eye to the peephole. “Good. Whoever it was went away.”
Benedict. Come back!
Merida jerked, yanked, tore at the cuffs. Shehadto get her hands free.
Returning to the table, Elsa chose one of the rotary cutters. She visually examined Merida’s face, then hooked the handles of the diagonal pliers in her cleavage. At last she walked to the chair, where Merida was trapped, handcuffed, bound head, hand and foot. Elsa leaned forward, so close her breath brushed Merida’s face. She smelled minty, fresh, not at all like a macabre butcher. She said, “This work takes concentration. Dawkins never appreciated that. He would always pace and urge me to hurry. That’s why I tore the first face. Let me assure you, your face will be an elegant work of art.” Easing the rotary cutter out of her cleavage, she removed the blade guard and placed it against Merida’s temple.
The cool, light touch galvanized Merida. She jerked hard on the nylon handcuff.
Her right hand popped free. Both hands… were loose.
Elsa jumped back. “Be careful! Your face is my chef d’oeuvre, my work of art. Donotspoil it for me. That wouldnotgo well for you. I can make you suffer… more.”
Now. Merida had one chance of success. With her gaze fixed on Elsa’s face, she weighed her options. She needed Elsa to lean close again, to concentrate on the task at hand.
Elsa again placed the rotary cutter against her temple. “I always love the first cut,” she said. “When it’s done well, I mean.”
Merida clenched her teeth. That initial incision… that’s when Elsa’s focus would be at its height.
That’s when the pain would give Merida the incentive she needed.
Elsa pressed hard.
The blade slid through Merida’s skin and onto the bone at her temple.
The pain!
Elsa rolled the rotary blade down toward Merida’s ear.
Merida brought her arms around, snatched the diagonal pliers out of Elsa’s cleavage. With a violent upward swing, she stabbed them into the soft part under Elsa’s chin.
Elsa’s mouth opened; blood gushed.
Merida yanked the pliers free.
Elsa fell backward onto the hardwood floor and rolled in agony, shrieking with the volume and the undulation of a fire alarm.
At the door, the handle rattled.
Merida ripped the tape off her forehead; hair came, too, and skin, and that hurt like hell. Leaning over, she used the pliers to clip the zip ties. Standing, she stepped toward the suit of armor.
In the corridor, people shouted.
Swift as a Gila monster, Elsa swiveled and crawled close enough to grab Merida’s ankle.
Merida kicked at her.
