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Click.

She flinched at the sound.

Candice barely breathed.  She fought desperately to remember if the last time she’d heard that sound if the light had been on or off.
She had to remember.  If the light had been off and was now on…she wasn’t sure she could endure another beating.

She had been in excellent health when he took her.  She had to be.  Her life’s ambition had been simple; to become a prima ballerina.
Candice fought to remember, forcing her face to remain relaxed.  If the monster were standing over her and even thought she was awake, he wouldn’t hesitate to begin to torture her again.

She prayed for two things.  The first; a sedative anything to make the pain go away.  The second and most important; that the light remain off. 

If it came to a choice between the drugs and the light, Candice knew her choice would be the darkness.  In the dark she was safe, in the dark her capture left her alone.

She felt the cold slab against her shoulders, her back, and her buttocks.

Something was wrong. Realization hit her so hard, her breath caught in her throat.

She needed to know if he was here, but the fear he would be standing over her caused her eyelids to remain closed.  If she opened her eyes and the lights were on; she shivered as she remembered the pain he inflicted.

The first time she felt bones break.  The only thought keeping her alive - bones could heal.  There had been a precision in his blows.  Each time the broom handle struck her, it had been from her waist up. 

Her heart stopped cold.  She tried to think.  She could feel the slab beneath her body, but something was off.  She moved her hips back and forth against her restraints, trying to stimulate circulation. 

Candice fought the tremors.  She coughed; feeling her stomach pitch and roll.

She stretched her fingers past her hips; she didn’t know how long she’d been without food, but she knew enough about her body to know she’d lost weight and a lot of it.  The leather restraints he kept her hands in had become extremely loose.

But none of that mattered now.  What mattered most was the feel of the metal slab beneath her. 

Gathering what little courage she had, she opened her eyes just a sliver; enough to realize the lights were off.  Candice took a deep breath and released it. 

No lights – no monster.

She looked around; the pitch blackness almost physical.  It touched her skin, her hands, and her face.  She’d always thought of darkness as cold and uninviting.  Now, it was welcomed.

All of her torture had been inflicted when the lights were on.  Candice knew somewhere above her, and at any given moment, lights could come on more intense than any stage she’d ever been on.  She twisted her body, her stomach clenched tight.  She wanted to throw up, but there wasn’t anything left to purge.

Candice bit her lip and reached below her hip.

Nothing.

She shook her head.  She had to concentrate.  She patted the area below her hips again.

Nothing.

Her scream sounded strange even to her ears. 

Her life was over.

He’d won.

The bastard had taken the only thing that mattered.

“Their gone.”

Candice heard the words.  He was here.  The monster was here!

“You have a choice, Candice.”  He said.

Her tears tasted salty.  Yesterday, she wouldn’t think she was physically able to cry.  Now, it was all she could do.  Her hopes, her dreams vanished.

She heard movement, and the moment she’d been praying for, her remaining restraints popped free, then the sound of metal on metal.   He’d dropped something.

“I’ll leave it up to you.”

Candice listened as his footsteps faded.  A door opened behind her.  Click, he flipped the light switch on; the door closed with a loud clank.

Candice was blinded by a harsh light above her head.

She turned her head in the direction of the sound.  Beside her, a surgical stand, covered with bloodied scalpels and clamps.  An IV bag hung on a tall metal pole. 

It was the revolver however, that fixed her attention.  She reached out for it.  Candice forced herself not to tremble, as she pointed the gun in the direction of the door. 

Open it you son-of-a…, Candice was surprised by the hatred bubbling inside her.  She wanted him to return, she wanted to put a bullet in him.

She stopped and looked at the revolver in her hand.  Had he left her an empty gun?  It would be just like him to torment her by making her think she had a way out.

His voice echoed in her head, “You have a choice,” she whispered.

She checked the cylinder.  There was only one bullet.

With trembling hands, she pulled the hammer back.

Understanding, hit her like a bolt.

She had a choice.

Candice said a quick prayer, as she looked down the length of the table.

The choice was hers.

Her legs were gone.

Her life was over. 

She placed the gun against her temple, welcoming the darkness.