Buried

05A: The world as he sees it [4th Draft/Edited]

Warning: this chapter is violent and could be triggering some, be prepared, please!

3:09 am, April 27th, 2015

Jamie Anderson's head pounded when she opened her bleary eyes. She woke up to darkness, an odd earthy smell, and a piece of hair tickling the tip of her nose. She sneezed and batted away the strand, before rubbing her eyes to clear away the sleep. Arching her back, vaguely aware of the dull ache in her lower body, she extended her arms above her head and cringed as she knocked into a wall.

She frowned, stretching her fingertips out to explore the roughened wood above her. This was not her newly decorated canopy bed in the middle of her bedroom. She recalled the previous night, a mistaken night of illegal underage drinking, and a few other scandalous activities Jamie knew she'd want to forget soon enough. She brought her hands down to feel the soft plush cushions under her and her brows drew together.

She moved to sit up but was immediately forced back due to her head slamming into what she brushed her hands against before. Her head was already hurting, but the extra knock with some blood made it worse. She was never going to drink again. It would be her only time of trying to be a wannabe wild girl with some semblance of a partying social life.

Drinking was bad.

She took a deep breath, her cheeks puffing out as she slowly let out the air before reaching above her to feel what she'd correctly assumed were wooden panels with... she swallowed, shifting her hand into a claw and shivered as she matched the marks above her to scratch marks.

"f**k," she said, trying to breathe as she explored above her more.

Right next to those marks, now directly above her, were two round rubber grips plugging into the wood, or maybe plugging something out.

Jamie gasped as a burning pain shot through her index finger. She inhaled and then let out a curse as she brought the hurt finger closer to her face, hoping to see the wooden sliver lodged beneath her fingernail.

Trying to get a better look, she shifted. It wasn't a big position change, but her thighs went with the movement and the sharp ache that had been there previously, coursed between her thighs again. She cringed, dropping her uninjured hand between her legs to try and dull the pain, but gasped when her hand felt something cold and damp.

Her underwear was gone.

Hesitantly, she lifted her fingers to her face and sniffed. The metallic smell of blood and herself had her gag reflex about to go into overdrive. She quickly swiped the wetness off on her undershirt.

"Where the hell are my clothes?" she whimpered.

Reaching both her hands upwards she pushed. She had to get out of this thing, but the harder she pushed, the more her arms quivered from the effort. When it wouldn't budge, she drew her knees up to her chest as best she could given the small space and attempted to use her legs too.

She slid down against the cushions, her shirt riding further up her midriff as she went down. She managed to bend her knees more so that the tops of her kneecaps knocked into the wood panels, and pushed again.

When that failed, her hands dropped to her sides, clenching into tight fists. She glared at the door and gritted her teeth in frustration. It had to be frustration and anger because the alternative she couldn't deal with.

Punching forward with both arms, she let her knuckles ram into the board. She grunted at the resistance and punched again, hissing as she broke the skin.

"What the f**k?" she screamed. "What the actual f**k?"

She tried again, squealing with effort, hoping to loosen whatever was holding the thing down. All the while wondering what the hell was going on. It still didn't move an inch. Her nostrils flared as fear set in. It was then that she noticed the stench of rotting meat that someone tried to cover up with bleach and a cheap pine tree from a gas station. Jamie crunched the gas station tree she'd found above her head.

Her friends had stopped at a gas station before they went to the club... Harley.

"Harley, you b***h. This is a horrible prank! What's the big idea?" she said and waited in silence. She punched the wood again when no one responded. "Guys, come on, this isn't funny. Where am I? Get me out of here. This smell is gonna make me yack!"

She snorted and teasing knocked on the wood above her. "I'm waiting. Man, this so gross. I'm sick guys. This hangover is a killer."

"There's a lighter in your jean pocket, they're folded above your head."

Jamie jerked in surprise at the screeching static and the dark, heavy voice that came next to her ear. Quickly, she reached over and grabbed the cold device where the voice had come from. She fingered the talking piece, feeling the rough holes of the speaker before pressing the button she found on the side. "What is this, a walkie-talkie?" She snorted, trying to find her inner sarcasm.

"Creative, isn't it?" the gritty disguised male voice responded.

She drew in a deep, shaking breath and blinked her eyes. She exhaled, taking another breath, and repeated before responding. "Who is this? Is this a late Christmas present or something? Am I in a trunk? Oh wait, I know! You're taking me to Colorado. I've always wanted to go there. I knew Mom and Dad would cave eventually." She paused to swallow and lick her dry, peeling lips. "I get it... so can I get out now?"

"You aren't in a trunk and you'll never go to Colorado."

She sighed, trying to be a good sport and play along. "Never is the wrong word."

A tinkle of laughter crackled over the com. "In this case never is a very right word. You'll never go on another drinking binge, you'll never lose your virginity—oh wait, I already took that—you'll never see your parents...hell, you'll never see daylight again. You won't be doing or seeing much of anything."

Jamie tensed and tried to ignore the comment about her virginity as burning pain ignited between her thighs again at her subtle stiffening movement. It wasn't true. This had to be a stupid joke. The corner of her mouth rose in an attempt at a chuckle. "Ha, ha, very funny," she said with a light teasing lilt. "Seriously, let me out of the trunk now."

"There is no trunk."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest while managing to contain her annoyance. "It's not funny anymore. Let me out."

"Hmm," came the reply and Jamie found herself trying to place the voice. That little, noncommittal noise sounded familiar.

"Do I know you? Harley, are you behind this?"

"You don't know me, but I know you and unfortunately... Harley's in the same position you're in."

"Is this some type of senior prank? There's still another semester, ya know? I mean this would be kind of early."

She heard the voice sigh in irritation. "As I said before Jamie, there's a lighter in your pocket. Take it out, switch it on. You'll need it for my instructions."

The word 'instructions' came out and she felt the twinge of panic slip away as it dawned on her what was going on.

"My sorority initiation," she said and breathed with relief. "Lucky I'm not claustrophobic... My dad and I love exploring caves. I'll pass this test with flying colors. What do I need to do?"

"No, you stupid b***h! Get the f*****g lighter."

Her eyes squeezed shut. Fear so intense, it made bile rise in her throat. Her lower lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. She couldn't lie to herself, not after that deranged shift in his voice.

"Please, I'm scared now," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

When he didn't answer, she reached up, fumbling into her jean pocket, and pulled the lighter out. She flicked it on. The tiny flame emitted little light as she brought it close to her face. As her arm moved the soft cushion she laid on revealed red velvet. It lined up the sides of the enclosed space. She couldn't bend down, so she curved her upper body. Her shoulders knocked into the side of the cushioned wall, her arm stretching as far as it would go.

The metal on the lighter burned her thumb and with a gasp, she released the button. That tiny light snuffed and darkness filled her sight again. She quickly rubbed the metal against her undershirt to cool it off.

There was no way. No way.

Letting out a frantic squeal, she flicked the light switch, but it just sparked. "Damn it!" She tried again. Her hand may as well have been the center of an earthquake with how much she was trembling as she held the light up towards the wood above her.

The scratch marks.

The rubber stoppers.

The shape.

She was in a coffin.

A wave of dizziness blurred her vision. This was too insane not to be a sorority prank. "Th-this is a horrible sorority initiation. I could die from a lack of oxygen!"

"That's the plan."

She gritted her teeth. She let out an impatient growl, clutching to her hope. "Well, I don't want to join this sorority. So let me out damn it."

"Look straight up."

She did it automatically and when she lifted it again, she saw the two rubber circles she'd felt earlier, directly in front of her arms.

"I suppose I like to give the impression of being a good sport, but you won't get out. The minute you pull the tab on those circles, dirt will pile in. The best you could do is stick your arms through to the push the dirt away, but the holes are big enough that it'll just go around. Plus, I put jagged pieces of glass two inches above those plugs."

She blinked now, shaking her head furiously. The pulse in her throat was pounding away.

"The idea is to give you an option. You can choose three different ways to die. Now, if you wait it out and die slowly, nourishment will be supplied through a hole on your left. It will only be enough to keep you alive for an extra two weeks unless you ration. Of course, your oxygen will be gone way before that. If you decide to try and dig out, you'll slice your wrists open, but there's a chance!"

Saliva pooled in her mouth as she rapidly tried to swallow over the lump in her throat. When she couldn't, she reached up with her free hand and clawed at her throat, gasping for air. Panic, something she'd been schooled in by her exploring father, was eating her control. Tears accumulated in the corner of her eyes, blinding her from the flickering orange glow of the lighter, before spilling down the sides of her face.

"Keep breathing like that and your oxygen won't last but a few minutes."

She dropped the lighter, paralyzed, frozen like a frightened baby.

"Being the fuckin' dumb blonde you are, you're probably thinking right about know if this is real. I'll answer. Yes. It's real. Would you like me to refresh your memory?" The question was rhetorical. "You went to a party outside of town, got a drink, then walked into someone, and dropped your cute little Coach purse. That someone helped you pick it up. You smiled at that someone. Chatted him up real good, but failed to notice the drug he slipped into your drink as you knocked it back."

Her eyes widened. "No." It was more a gust of escaped air forming a word then a whisper. It was all she could manage as she struggled with her burning lungs to breathe.

No.

No, no, no, no. It was a pleading mantra. This couldn't be happening to her. Not to her!

"If it makes you feel any better your friend Harley fell for the same thing. Oh, what materialistic females will do for a guy dressed in expensive clothing... little w***e's are so predictable."

"No, y-you were nice and cute and... this isn't real!" she cried out, shaking her head in denial, trying to mentally dodge the familiarity of the images he described. He had been so nice... and handsome.

"Harley must have been drugged before. Her system cleaned it out quicker than yours. I like it when they fight through it. She was no virgin either, but you were a good girl, weren't you, Jamie?"

That lump lodged in her throat seemed to rise and the sour taste of vomit clung to the back of her tongue. She gagged, barely managing to swallow the chunky puke. The realization of why there was pain between her legs was dawning on her. This pain seemed to overpower the pain in her head.

She'd been waiting for the right person... she was so stupid!

"No. Please stop this. It's not funny anymore. Stop, stop, please just stop," she said with a pathetic whimper.

"Harley was a lot more verbal than you. I mean all you did was whine and ask me to stop, a bit like you're doing now. You've disappointed me."

Panicked though she was, Jamie still managed to catch the context. "Was?"

"She was a fighter when she realized I'd buried her alive. Broke my damn walkie-talkie," he said it as if the very idea of her breaking it was absurd. "I even had to re-dig her out so that I could make her pay for that. That walkie-talkie was the real deal, expensive high tech s**t. The cunt broke it to pieces. I didn't want to have to explain to my boss why it was missing, but she just didn't cooperate."

"You dug her up?"

"Yeah."

"You let her go?"

"You are so f*****g dumb! No. I just sewed her lips shut while she was awake. Hard as f**k to hold her down and do that. I had to tie her up and what a great position that was. It got me hot. I did her again, after sewing her lips shut. Then I untied her, and dropped her back in, kicking and trying to scream. The threads started tearing through the flesh of her lips. It was awesome, some real Hostel s**t. She thought she could push her arms through the holes and dig out. She was wrong. I never got the chance to tell her about the glass."

He talked like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"You're a disgusting pervert! Get me out of here. Of course, she isn't dead. This is going too far." She slammed the walkie-talkie against the wood and the talk button stuck.

He didn't say anything for at least two minutes, but when he did speak Jamie knew. "Have a good death princess. I just hope you scream more."

The finality in his tone made her cry harder. She'd been drugged, robbed of her virginity, and was buried alive.

Alive. Buried.

The scream erupted from her lips and she started punching the wooden top to the coffin, not caring that the skin on her knuckles cracked and bled. Ignoring the pain, she continued screaming until her voice went raw and her punches weakened. And when she could no longer punch from the weakness that had taken over her arms, she ripped at the red sidings frantically with her fingertips, searching for a weak point in the structure.

"Help me! Somebody, please help me," she shouted between heaves.

Gasping for breath, she reached for the rubber tabs and yanked down. Dirt instantly poured inside and she frantically shoved her arms through, screaming when she felt the glass slicing deeper the more she pushed her arms up. Ignoring the pain, she tried desperately to push the damp dirt to the side, but it wouldn't stop. She tried to push her whole body against the door but to no avail.

"No, no." She choked as she swallowed the vomit down again, but continued, "Please help me! I'll do anything you want me to. Don't do this!"

"Even the used to be virgin offers to do dirty deeds. Naughty. I was so hoping you wouldn't pull the stops," he said.

No longer able to hold it in, she spewed the chunks of last night's dinner and drink. The projectile vomit bounced against the top of the coffin so swiftly that she didn't have time to turn her head away. The rancid smell filled the tiny area and splashed against the top of the coffin, rebounding back into her mouth, on her face, and into her eyes. And she couldn't stop, she tried to turn her head, but the dirt and vomit were everywhere now.

She couldn't breathe.

"Are you choking? You f*****g puked, didn't you? Come on, not another one! I hate cleaning that s**t up. Hey, say something," the voice demanded with intense ferocity.

Only she couldn't say anything. Speech was no longer an option. All she could do was gasp for breath that she couldn't get because chunks of whatever she'd eaten the night before were lodged in her throat and covering her nose.

She couldn't breathe. She was choking.

"Jamie? Jamie Anderson?" the voice called.

She couldn't answer. There were no more gasps.

The man heaved an irritated sigh, dropping the black walkie-talkie onto his desk with a clunk. Disgusted at the way things turned out. Most of them had choked on their vomit and only a handful had fought. It was rather upsetting.

"How boring; death by vomit? Come on. At least Harley went down kicking. Jamie?"

He snarled when he heard the slight gurgling over the com. "f**k me."

She was the last. He'd finished with the blondes, the redheads and miscellaneous colored hair, like black, pink and so forth. He would get another one or two in sixth months. This time though he'd have to go a few towns over. He'd gotten lazy and gone only one town over from his own. He'd always had two rules, no local areas, and no surrounding states if it could be helped.

He had to be careful.