The last thing Constance remembered was approaching her car after locking up the lingerie shop for the evening when she felt a sudden, sharp pain in the back of her right thigh,
then nothing until she awoke, hanging by her wrists, here in this horrifying place. While unconscious, her kidnapper had removed her skirt, blouse, and bra, leaving her wearing
just her thong and high heels.
With every passing moment, Constance’s terror grew. She found herself trapped in a basement of horrors. Puddles of dried blood covered the floor, with scattered piles of human bones lining the walls. And everywhere she looked, tables covered with hideous, mostly blood-spattered instruments of unspeakable, obscene torture.
Then, when she thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. Constance’s overwhelming fear spiked as she helplessly watched her kidnapper enter the room. That look of eager, sadistic anticipation in his eyes and the ominously blood-stained apron, boots, and surgical mask he wore instantly erased what little doubt remained concerning her hideously gruesome fate, that and the sheet metal shears he eagerly picked up from one of the tables.
“Good evening, Constance. Welcome to the house of death. I know you want to beg for your life or even call me a heartless monster, but I think you’ve already discovered you can’t. That’s because I injected a powerful numbing drug directly into your vocal cords before you awoke. It makes it impossible for you to speak, but I promise you’ll still be able to scream during the remaining hours of your life.”
In the long, torturous hours of brutal mutilation that followed, Constance discovered, to her horror, that her kidnapper had told the truth. Even in the final moments of her life, as he savagely ripped out her heart, while she couldn’t speak, she could still scream in agony as she died...