By: Mia L. Hazlett

My bottom lip trembled as a bead of sweat slowly crawled down my terrified brow. The blackness that surrounded me would not give way to the noise that had stirred me only minutes before. I was too petrified to call out or even move. My alarm clock that usually sent its reddish glow across my nightstand let me know there was no power in my house. I tried to scan my bedroom for a glimpse of an outline of something familiar, but it was too late when I discovered my open door.

Suddenly as I muscled up the courage to scream, I was dangling in midair. There was a crushing vise squeezing my nose and mouth…then a piercing pain driving itself through my lower left side. I know I was screaming, but not even the hint of a whisper was heard in my pitch dark room. My legs kicked frantically to find some sort of footing, but they failed miserably to the massive strength that held me hostage.

The pain seared throughout my entire body as I crashed into my solid maple antique bureau. I landed on my back and gasped for a much needed breath of air. Before I could catch a full breath and gain any focus, the monster was on me again. I clawed wildly in hopes of letting it know I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. I was useless against its power. My headboard stopped my hurling body. As my face tried to recover from the crushing impact, a grip handcuffed my ankles and pulled me violently to the floor. My head hammered the floor and drove my tooth through my bottom lip.

But as suddenly and violently as it had begun, it was over. I heard the retreating footsteps down the stairs, and lay motionless on my bedroom floor. I wasn’t sure if it was my front or back door, but I heard the familiar slamming sound. Before I could move, I was blinded by light and a blaring cacophony of noise, as all my radios and stereo blasted at full volume throughout my house.

My broken bloodied body brought itself to its knees. I knew with the loud music, someone must have called the police by now. But whatever had just happened, it was over now. I had lived through a malicious nightmare. I slowly eased myself off of my knees and faced my mirror. I screamed in terror at the smiling face behind me. One monster was still here.
©2007 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster II
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I ran down the stairs with the expectation of a chase. I steadied myself against the wall near the front door. No chase. The blinding light and noise remained, but no chase. Pain riddled my body from head to toe. I tried to focus on my surroundings, but nothing seemed familiar. I just needed to open the front door to end this nightmare.

My legs wobbled as I reached for the doorknob. And then it was gone. The noise. The lights. They disappeared and the blackness returned. I grasped desperately to find the knob. Nothing. The knob didn’t move and the door didn’t open. My hands followed the wall until they came to a massive leather jacket. The same jacket that had just terrorized my bedroom.

Massive arms embraced me and I could only hear my breathing and the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Beyond the footsteps and my quick breaths, there was a faint knocking with each step. I tried to release myself from my captor, but all movements were stifled with a blow to my face. I was sure it was my tooth I swallowed. My feet dangled but I was sure I was moving as I floated towards a consistent tapping. The floating ceased and then there was laughter coming just inches in front of my face. That laugh. They had found me. After six years, that laugh had found me.
©2010 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster III
By: Mia L. Hazlett

With the slightest bump, my head seemed to crash against the steel pillow in the trunk that now jailed me. Nothing I did would release my legs or arms from their bondage. The tape over my mouth was suffocating and I had to remind myself to breath through my nose. I had to shift off my side and the tire they had thrown me on. My broken ribs couldn’t take one more hit.

The car began to slow and I stifled all movement. Then came the laugh, that maniacal laugh. All movement ceased. Car doors slammed. The trunk opened. I was lifted and thrown to the ground. A dog came and sniffed me. He was called away. I was left on the dirt behind the car.

I’m not sure how long I remained on the ground. It was still night so I knew we hadn’t driven far from where I lived. I was thankful that I fell asleep, because that was the only thing that kept the pain away. When I woke, dawn was making its presence. The dog from before slept less than a foot away. I tried to inch my way onto my back. Any sudden movement would reintroduce me to my broken parts.

Before I turned completely over, there was a swift shattering kick to my back. The dog scurried under a truck as I was heaved into the air. My screams didn’t make it beyond my taped mouth, but I couldn’t take the hefty shoulder that was stabbing my fractured ribs. With a deep rooted evil, he made a quick jump up with each step.

The walk took us through the woods to a clearing, which held a shack of some sort. We entered and descended down a stairwell into the same darkness I had experienced at my house. I couldn’t focus beyond my pain, but there was an soft audible crying coming from the pitch blackness that surrounded us.

I was thrown onto a mattress and introduced to a dim light from the corner of the small space. My arms, legs, and mouth were set free. Within seconds the door shut and the locked turned. I protected my pain by staying in my fetal position. There was no where I could go, so I decided not to irritate my wounds.

There wasn’t much I could see from my position, but then there was that crying again. I wanted to answer it with comfort, but I couldn’t withstand another blow of any kind. I was not sure how close or far my captors were. My consciousness refused to remain consistent, so I lost track of time. Minutes, hours, or days could have passed without my knowledge. I just knew movement equaled pain, so I remained in my little ball.

Awoken again, this time to the sound of the lock being undone and the door opening. There was a scuffle of feet. I don’t know if I was dreaming or if my eyes were swollen shut, but now that faint crying was sharing my space.

The cry spoke to me, “Linda? Linda is that you?” Shit! They had her too.
©2010 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster IV
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I couldn’t say anything. Through the dim light and the small slit in my right eye, I saw a lean silhouette approaching me. I wasn’t sure if I turned my head towards her voice, but she was now whispering in my ear, “They’re going to kill us. I think I’ve been here for two or three days, I’m not sure. They got me on Sunday. Do you know what day it is?” I knew I had been brought down here with the dawning of a new day. If it was still the same day right now, then it was Friday. I went to bed Thursday night and they took me Thursday night. Today was Friday.

I don’t know if I told her it was Friday or was just thinking it, but our conversation or my thoughts were interrupted by steps outside of my small dungeon. The clang of the lock set Silhouette into an uncontrollable tremble. Her relentless grasp tortured my arm with a pain, but my mind transferred to that pain, rather than the aching of my ribs. I returned her tremble as the step with the light knock I heard at my house came into earshot, step, knock, step, knock… and then the maniacal laugh. She was right, they were going to kill us.

Silhouette screamed as they tore her from my side. I’m not sure if I reached out to hold her or if she had just not released her grip from my arm. I believed the latter, because she tore my sleeve and I now saw it dangling from her weak fist. She was thrown against the wall opposite me and all I could do was watch as Maniacal slammed his cane across her face. When I tried to turn away from her second blow, I was placed in a choke hold and made to watch as they beat her to death. She was right, they were going to kill us.

Maniacal crawled towards my face as it was thrown back to the ground. His low whisper terrorized more than his laugh, “You thought you could escape me? You thought I was going to never find you? I found you four years ago. How do you like that? I’ve been watching every little thing you do for the past four years. I could of taken you at 6:00 am in the parking lot at the park where you jog every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday morning. I helped you when you dropped your keys trying to get in your car after you bought your coffee and newspaper like you do every morning on the way to work. You let me come into your house and repair your air conditioner. I’ve been everywhere you go for the past four years. You can’t hide from me. I found you. I’ve got you. And just between you and me, you’re going to die here.” She was right, they were going to kill us.
©2011 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster V
By: Mia L. Hazlett

They didn’t take Silhouette with them, so I muscled through all the pain to turn my back to her. I couldn’t stomach the blood pooled around her lifeless body. The hopelessness of my situation battled my need to escape. I couldn’t die here. I knew they would kill me, but when? How? I had to escape.

I turned my body flat on its back. I needed to put myself through a self-check to see what parts still worked. It began with my legs. There seemed to be nothing wrong with them. A slight soreness in my right thigh from the trunk ride, but I knew I could stand, walk, and run. Check, check, and check. My arms themselves could move fine, but the torso they were attached to could not withstand their mobility. I was sure I had at least a broken pinkie on my right hand and a broken wrist on my left. My entire front and back took most of the punishment, so I felt sore all over. My ribs offered the most pain of all. Inhaling was kept to short intakes. Next in line to my torso, was my head and face. They caught their own set of treatment from being hurled into my dresser and pulled off of my bed feet first.

The only thing I could think of next was to stand. I had been laying on this floor since they put me in here. I didn’t think a day passed, but I wasn’t for sure. I had to turn to my stomach and push myself up with my right arm. My left wrist wouldn’t be able to take any weight. I was able to roll gently to my right side and then I rested. I was now staring into the dead eyes of Silhouette. I had to do everything I could to avoid her lifelessness. I pushed and was now on my knees, when I heard footsteps.

By the time I got back to my fetal position the door swung open. There was only one set of footsteps approaching me from behind. I wished I had laid facing the door instead of the wall. A heavy hand swung my shoulder and swiftly had me on my back. Before I knew what was happening, there was a small heavy sledgehammer pounding my left ankle. “It seems like you were getting some ideas,” he said before he then hammered my right ankle and I passed out.
©2011 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster VI

By: Mia L. Hazlett

Was I really in my bed? It didn’t seem real, but here I was. My room reflected order, but my memory obeyed a reality I struggled to comprehend. I remember darkness, crashing, and a deep relentless pain. Finally I swung my feet to the side of my bed and stood. The sun beamed through my white window sheers shining brightness on my new day.

Although I stood surrounded by perfection, a putrid odor wafted through the air. Each inhale strengthened the sickening feeling within me. I gagged and coughed. The cough buckled me and a searing pain engulfed my torso. As I held my stomach, I inched my way to the top of my stairwell. My blurry stare outlined a massive human silhouette. Even though I stared down my stairs, the figure loomed over me.

I released my torso and straightened my back. The looming figure seemed to be made of air as I grabbed for it to steady myself. With no contact made, I lost my balance and tumbled head over heels down the stairs. I writhed in excruciating pain, but still the looming figure remained over me.

I couldn’t tell if the touch came from it or me, but this time I could feel something near my feet. The more my eyes struggled to remain open and focus, the darker my surroundings became. It felt as though my feet were being lifted into the air, as the darkness encompassed me. I could see my stairwell, but with the diminished sunlight that had so recently illuminated my upstairs, I couldn’t see past the second step.

I tried to turn away from the stairs and onto my back, but with the reintroduction of the putrid odor, I released my stomach contents with a hurl. Now I was back in the small room. Instead of the floor, I was on a wiry raised cot. My legs were taped together on a slat of plywood, which did not allow me to turn my body. My stomach contents soaked my hair, and I realized the stench was me. I don’t think it was the first time I threw up, nor had I been afforded the opportunity to use a bathroom.

As the blurry figure came into focus, I remembered the sledgehammer. Immediately I tried to move my feet, but I couldn’t feel them. The man came closer to me with some sort of syringe in his hand. As the needle was merely inches from my arm, the door opened. The maniacal laugh sent me back to my sunny bedroom as the contents of the syringe emptied into my arm. I was home again.
©2011 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster VII
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I had to escape. Things I never thought I would l have to tell myself. Being bound and broken in a damp darkened basement was for the movies, it definitely wasn’t meant for my reality. I was going to chalk up my captivity to weeks at this point. It wasn’t due to counting the sun rises and sets, but the healing of my wounds, or lack of, at this point.

My ankles were far from healing. They left me begging for the drug that kept me captive. I fought my eyelids for mere seconds after the syringe delivered my only joy. Was I awake? Who is calling me? I floated to an upright position, I think. I was standing at the wall, but I knew I couldn’t stand. What’s happening? Who’s calling me?

There it was again. My name. A woman was calling my name.
“Hello,” I responded this time. I think I did. I couldn’t hear my voice, but I know I responded.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
“Come here. Please help me,” the voice pleaded. But the voice was not that of a woman, but a child.
“Hello. What’s your name? Who are you?” this conversation was the closest thing I had to hope. “Ssshh. Don’t say anything. Pretend you’re asleep,” I warned as I heard heavy footsteps.

The footsteps stopped in front of my door. I rushed to my bed before they could inflict any damage to my body. As the door swung open, I realized I had never moved from my bed. I still lay strapped to the bed in archaic leather restraints. The conversation was in my head. My hope was in my head. I was alone here, with this animal.

I turned my head to see where the footsteps were. Focus eluded me, with only the faint light from the hallway. This had to be my mealtime, which I’m not sure, but maybe a day had passed since I had received my last serving of the red concoction.

Footsteps approached me with the food and smiled viciously. I knew his thoughts before he spread my legs with his foot. He fumbled with his belt buckle and dropped the food to the floor.

“Now, now, that’s not how we treat our guests. Go and get her some more food,” Maniacal whispered from the doorway. How could I be happy to hear the man who was the cause of all this? How could I want to thank him?

“I’m sorry for his behavior. He was raised with no manners. Now how are those ankles of yours coming?” He reached over and I’m not sure if he touched me. Pain was normal, so what was pain? “Healing just right. You’ll be ready to leave in a few more weeks. And when you leave this time, you’ll do it right.”
© Mia L. Hazlett 2013

Monster VIII

By: Mia L. Hazlett

“AAAAHHH,” I screamed in pain as Footsteps dragged me to a standing position.

My friend, Syringe, hadn’t come to visit me in…well…long enough for me to be in pain for hours…days…weeks…
Ever since I had come to this dreaded dungeon of horror, standing had not happened. I hadn’t thought about my legs, never mind using them. As he held me upright, I realized my ankles were not the only things Syringe was nursing. There were constant darting pains in my back. I had expected pure waste to engulf my nakedness, but my vertical stance proved me wrong. At some point, someone had washed me.

Footsteps let go of me, which sent me crashing to the floor. My legs had forgotten their function. They had not had to support me since I came here. “UP!” he shouted at me. “UP!” with a quick snatch of my arm I was upright. I wobbled under the excruciating pain. “WALK!” he shouted at me again. His insanity was maddening. Although there was no longer swelling in my ankles, their obvious purple hue should have told their own story. “WALK!” He grabbed my wrists and pulled me towards him, forcing my wrenching first steps. “AAAAHHH!” I screamed with my second.

Maniacal appeared behind Footsteps, “There you go. You didn’t think we brought you here to rot away did you? You have to get those legs of yours nice and strong again. You have a lot of work to do. You were a bad girl and now you have to make right.”

He turned me around and tore something from my back. “Ah, your sores have healed nicely. How are those ribs of yours?” He came inches from my face, “You’re mine. Don’t get any ideas. I own you for the rest of your life. You do anything I don’t like, well, then you’re his,” he turned to a smiling Footsteps who placed his hand down his pants.

They left and I collapsed to the floor. I dragged myself to the wiry cot and I heard Hope again. “Hello. Hello. Is anyone there?” It was almost a whisper, but so crystal clear. “I know you’re here. I hear you cry out at night. Where are you?”

“I..I..I’m here. I just don’t know where here is. Or where your ‘here’ is. Who are you? I think I heard you say my name the last time. Do you know where we are?” I didn’t want to stop talking to Hope. I didn’t want Hope to leave me again.

“They’re coming. I hear them. Whatever you do, don’t tell them anything. They don’t know anything. Remember that. They know nothing. But we know everything.” Hope disappeared to the sound of Footsteps returning.
© Mia L. Hazlett 2013

Monster IX
By: Mia L. Hazlett

What did it mean to have control of my body? Was it actual physical control? Or was it the ability to do with my body what I wanted? I didn’t want to do what they were telling me to do. I was somehow fighting against the healing of my body. Being able to walk, although my only means of escape, could also prove my detriment. Reinjuring my ankles lingered in my thoughts, but I wrestled with lengthening my stay in hell.

They allowed me access to the stairs at the end of the dark hallways. Some sort of informal training for my controlled release. A door with a heavy padlock and chain guarded the top of the staircase. I’m sure it used a form of video as backup.

With only one door in the hallway, I seemed to hold the only reservation, but Hope had to be close. Although I hadn’t heard from her in days, there was the familiar sound of restraints against a wire cot. They must have restrained her and she couldn’t get to her wall. Or maybe her ankles had met the same fate mine had and she was now receiving visits from Syringe.

Footsteps arrived with my food. Apparently while dwelling so close to the last stop in hell, Thanksgiving had arrived. He brought two plates mounded with food I had forgotten existed.

“We need you to fatten up a bit, put your weight back on,” Maniacal appeared and spoke from the doorway. “The time is drawing near and we can’t have you fail, just because you’re hungry. Be a good girl and eat up.”

I savagely devoured all I could. I don’t think I used my hands as I felt my tongue brush against the plate at times. Before I could see the bottom of the second plate, my body rejected the first meal. My stomach had held nothing more than a red concoction and an occasional serving from Syringe.

I couldn’t control my vomiting, but I noticed my ribs had healed. There was no pain in the heaving as before. I can’t get well. I had to take control of my body and break it again.
© Mia L. Hazlett 2013

Monster X

By: Mia L. Hazlett

How was I going to break myself? This question was a constant, every time I made it to the top of the stairwell. I guess the location was my answer, but had yet to trigger my brain to find the courage. The courage it would take to hurl myself down the 14 cement steps. The thought always danced through my mind, but I didn’t want to go back to my multi-daily visits with Syringe.

They knew I was getting better. Upon return to my room each time, they immediately chained me to a steel rod, which ran from ceiling to floor. When it was time to sleep, the bed restraints were enforced. Maybe this is why I hadn’t heard from Hope. Maybe she was unable to get to the wall. I needed to know if she was still alive. Were they training her? Was she part of this horrendous plan of revenge too? She had to be near for me to hear her through the wall, but the hallway outside gave no hints to any other rooms.

I walked slowly up and down the hall. I don’t know how long they gave me, but this was part of my routine. Warm up and then I jogged back and forth. My eyes scrutinized the wall to find some clue that I wasn’t alone. Then I saw it. Although the door was disguised to match the stone wall, I could make out the frame. It gave itself away at the bottom where it failed to completely reach the floor.

I put my mouth to the small crack, “Are you in there? Can you hear me?” I screamed. There was rattling of restraints. “Make another sound if you hear me.” A consistent chain rattling followed.

Before the next question left my mouth, the left side of my face exploded. Footsteps was pounding my body as I fought to escape back to my open door. I ran through my doorway only to plow into Maniacal, who threw me down on my bed. His hand closed around my neck before I could catch my breath.

“I will torture you to death. You know that don’t you? I thought you knew to be a good girl. I thought with all the nice treatment and food you would show some sort of appreciation. The only thing you did by finding yourself a little friend is bring her torture. She will pay for your curiosity.” He gave me a shove as he released my throat and signaled Footsteps.

“No please. I’m sorry. I do appreciate you. Don’t hurt her please. I’m sorry,” I begged.

“I can’t hurt you precious. You are too valuable to me right now. She’s the second phase. You’re the first.” Maniacal closed and locked the door behind him. I was not restrained, but it didn’t matter. I crumbled as I heard Hope scream.
© Mia L. Hazlett 2013

Monster XI
By: Mia L. Hazlett

With no concept of time, I figured they had been torturing Hope for at least two days. Her horrific screams were a constant for me. I don’t think it was constant abuse, but they marred my dreams as well. They made sure I heard her. And I did. I heard her. I heard her beg for her life. Eventually I heard her beg for her death.

Even after the first scream, when I told them I would kill for them, they continued to brutalize her. I wasn’t going anywhere. Escape wasn’t a thought in my mind. I would kill and stay in hell to stop her torture. They had won. I’m not sure if evil has a purpose, but I continued to wonder why they had her if they had me. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

Footsteps entered my room with fresh dark stains about his ragged filthy attire. They no longer chained me because they knew my desire to flee was gone. He yanked at my arm and dragged me to my feet with a mighty force. He lead me to the once secret door and with a swift motion, opened it and threw me to the ground.

Hope lay nude on the floor. A slight rise in her chest revealed life. Her body displayed open gashes and bruises, with a definite leg break. I now comprehended her hope for death. I took the rag of a blanket and covered her. She cried out, and fought against me before allowing me to cradle her shaking body.

“It’s almost over. I leave next week, and it will be all over,” I whispered in the bandaged area where her ear should have been.

“No,” she squeaked out. “Once you are done, I will then become you.”
© 2013 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster XII
By: Mia L. Hazlett

Fear was stifling. It was one thing to fear for yourself, but another when someone else’s life depended on yours. I didn’t know who Hope was, but since we had stayed together over the past week, our commonality became this torturous hell pit. They no longer hurt either one of us. Dr. Guy came in and re-broke her leg and made a makeshift cast. For some reason I assumed he was a doctor because he set her leg on a board and tied it in place with rags, and administered some sort of pain killer with a needle. This was everything our captors had done, less setting the leg, but I guess since he didn’t appear to possess the torture gene, he was a doctor to me.

My strength was restored, but they had overlooked one detail that now postponed our scheduled rendezvous, my sight. There was a dim glow that always illuminated the darkest corners. For whatever period of time I had been here, my eyes had adjusted. But going outside in the sunlight, where they had taken me the past two days, caused debilitating migraines.

Over the past week, the light was constant in Hell. The wattage was increased daily. Today there was no headache. I was surprised how light lessened my fear. In my mind we were in some tragic lost dungeon, and although the light didn’t change our circumstances, I could now see who was coming. Our torturers were simply men. I did my best to wipe away old blood stains. I wasn’t sure my reasoning. It wasn’t to make this home, nor could I ever erase this experience from my mind, but it just made the present tolerable.

My eyes opened to Maniacal and Footsteps standing over me. Hope had her mouth taped and Dr. Guy’s hands were between her thighs. Her eyes spoke the pain her muffled screams could not relay. Maniacal looked down, “It’s time. Follow us.” For the first time in the light, my fear returned, but looking at Hope, I followed.
©2014 Mia L. Hazlett


Monster XIII
By: Mia L. Hazlett

My departure was similar to my arrival.  I was thrown into a trunk, so I didn’t know where I was leaving or being taken.  Although Footsteps put me in the trunk, I couldn’t say he was the one driving.  I tried my best to stay awake, but I knew it wouldn’t last long.  Dr. Guy had given me some sort of pill prior to my little trip.  The effect began with a long blink.  Now a tingle made it from my shoulders to my fingertips.

I woke up in a bedroom.  It wasn’t my bedroom, but it was a bedroom.  It was in direct contrast to the hell I left.  There was nothing but white everywhere. I tried to get up but somehow I was back in hell.  I was alert, but once again, unable to move my legs.  I could see my legs, but could not feel them.   As the door opened, same hell with different scenery.  In walked, Maniacal, Footsteps, and the Dr. Guy, and all I could do is watch them as they approached the bed.

Dr. Guy gave me a shot in my arm, as Maniacal spoke to me.  There was a flat screen TV in the corner of the room.  I watched Footsteps walk and turn on the television.  Hope popped onto the screen.  She was in our old hell and sleeping peacefully.  He switched the channel and I was staring at myself, an electronic mirror.  He continued to change the channels and I received a virtual tour of my new “home”.

There was a tingling in my legs and I could feel a small ache in my lower back.  It wasn’t a pain, just a small uncomfortable ache.  Maniacal explained they had inserted a tracking device in my back.  Footsteps pressed a button on the side of the TV and it became a monitor.  A red dot blinked.  I knew I was the dot, but he quickly switched the channel back to Hope.  I did not have time to see the street names that were listed around the blinking dot.

Amazingly, my freedom and bondage shared the same screen. If I decided to leave, I would just have to figure out where I was. They could track me if they wanted, but this was the closest I had come to freedom.   But Maniacal had his name for a reason.  If I did leave, Hope was dead.  My life or hers.  Who did I have more loyalty towards? Myself or the woman I gave my word to?
Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett


Monster XIV
By: Mia L. Hazlett

They only allowed me to explore the top floor of my prison. I really didn’t know where I was.  There were no windows. It had the layout of a small hotel, except everything was white.  I knew I was upstairs because of the small stairwell at the end of the bleached hallway.  No stairs went up, but there were at least three, maybe four flights, which went down.

I didn’t explore the hallways as a leisurely stroll.  Over the past, I’ll guess and say two weeks, I carried an extremely large heavy duffel bag on my shoulders.  Every two days they added more weights.  They started me heavy, and I could safely say it now exceeded my own weight.

I came into the hallway the next morning for my routine weight walk.  The difference this time, the bag was alive.  The noise was muffled, but my bag now hopped and moved across the floor.  Maniacal ordered me to pick it up and begin my routine.  I obeyed. Whatever it was calmed as I picked it up.  Two steps in- it went frantic.  I was ordered not only not to drop it, but to also run.  Again, I obeyed- until I dropped it.

It only took seconds to pick it up again, but now it was wild. My routine consisted of down the hall and back twenty times.  I was up to thirty-five right now, and sweat stung my eyes.  My momentum was gone and my bag had no sign of life.  At fifty he let me stop. I wanted to drop the bag, but I remembered it was once alive.

Footsteps came and opened the bag.  The pit bull took small breathes.  It was a dog, but when I looked in its eyes, I recognized that fear.  I had seen that fear in Hope’s eyes.  They taped around his muzzle and he was probably close to suffocating.  Footsteps walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door to the small stairwell. Maniacal cut the tape off his muzzle as a sat on the floor in front of them. Exhaustion possessed every cell of my body.

I was ordered to go to Footsteps.  Still out of breath and feet from the stairwell, I heard Maniacal yell, “Attack”, and turned to see the pit bull running at me.  I don’t know how I made it down the first flight of stairs, but as I reached the third, pit bull was closing the gap.  There were two more flights coming at me fast as skipped stairs and still maintained my speed and balance.   I heard a yelp as he lost his balance and fell down the flight directly behind me.

Fear and adrenaline battled inside me for the next two seconds as I ran out of stairs and slammed into the cement wall.  Before I could recover, there was a loud blast and a final yelp. Footsteps appeared with a gun and ordered us back upstairs. I carried the dog up five flights of stairs and collapsed on my bed.

Before I fell asleep, Maniacal spoke into his phone while looking at me, “She’s ready.”

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster XV
By: Mia L. Hazlett

This was like a stakeout, except we weren’t cops. Instead, we were more like stalkers. Professional stalkers. While they stalked the gentleman in the house, I stalked the neighborhood. They kept me blindfolded for the car ride, but we always ended up on the same street. Unfortunately, it was always nighttime, so I couldn’t see the street sign at the corner.

We arrived at 10 pm every night. Within minutes, a car would pull into the driveway. Three weeks and the same thing. A gentleman would get out and go inside. The lights would stay on for about two hours. They would appear again at about 6 am. By 8 am, the driver’s seat was occupied again. With daylight, my blindfold returned. Removal of it always put us in the same parking lot behind the same building. Unfortunately, it was non-distinct and offered no details of my location.

Tonight was different. When they took my blindfold off, it was dusk. The sun hadn’t completely gone down. We were at the same house, but sitting in a different location. There was no way to look at the street sign without being obvious. The Doctor and Footsteps sat in the front, while I sat in the back of the van with my hands zip-tied behind my back. We were never in the same vehicle while occupying the on-street parking road.

But like I said, tonight was different. Footsteps turned around and cut my zip-tie off. It didn’t matter how many times we had come here, I didn’t know where I was. They did. Running to nowhere would be stupid. Even if I could shake them, GPS would tattle on me.

Again, tonight was different. After being cut free, I was no longer a stalker. I was now a home intruder. I had no watch, but I assumed it was a little after 10 pm. I heard the door open. Keys were thrown on a counter or something. I heard a refrigerator door open then close. The television went on and then a ringtone was quickly stifled. There was no answer, so I assumed he ignored the call.

Now I waited for him to go to sleep. With my sliver view from the closet, there was only a glow from the television. It could have been an hour, or maybe two. I never thought stalking could be so tiring. My right leg began to cramp. Moving was not an option. My tight environment did not allow for it. Still there was the television, but now heavy breathing.

If hope worked, he was asleep. If hope worked, I wouldn’t have to kill him. If hope worked, tonight I could escape. If hope worked, they would never find me again. If hope worked, Hope would live too. I crept out of the stalking cover and entered the hallway. There was no hope. Footsteps was in the hallway too.
© Copyright 2014 – Mia L. Hazlett

Monster XVI
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I’ve never hurt someone physically.  I’ve physically hurt.  I’ve definitely emotionally hurt, and maybe even reciprocated.  But intentionally inflicting pain on someone was not my thing. Somehow it was now my thing.  Footsteps made it my thing.

To Footsteps, this was like making a cake.  Preheat oven. Prepare table. Get mixing bowls, measuring cups and spoons, and ingredients. Gag, check. Restraints, check. Victim, check. In one bowl mix half the ingredients, in the other, mix the remainder. Situate victim just right on table, gag, and apply restraints. Blend ingredients in large bowl and stir for 3-5 minutes. Remove blind fold and tape open victim’s eyes. Allow mix to sit 2-3 minutes.  Apply 3-5 bleach drops to each eye and allow to sit for 2-3 minutes.  Pour mix into pan and place in oven for 35-40 minutes or until cake is done. Apply scalpel slices to victim’s naked body and individually duct tape 35-40 rats over slices. When cake is done, allow to cool before eating.  When the rats are done, your victim should be dead.

I prayed for him to die of fear.  He didn’t.  I prayed for him to stop watching me. His eyes were taped open.  I prayed to go deaf. I heard each muffled scream through his gag. I prayed for the torture to end, the rats ate him alive.  I prayed for my own death. I realized, God had put my prayers on mute.

I stood outside and Footsteps met me with a huge duffel bag.  We were in an unlit parking lot of some abandoned building.  He weighted the duffel bag evenly over my shoulders.  I realized I was carrying our cake, the leftovers anyways.  The bag outweighed me, but I managed to keep up with Footsteps as I followed him through the dark.  I heaved the bag into the trunk of the car on top of some shovels.

I began to cry in the back of the car.  Footsteps started the car and chuckled at my tears.  He turned the car around and I lunged forward, grabbed his forehead back, and sliced across his neck with the scalpel I had hidden up my sleeve.  The car accelerated and slammed into the building.

When I opened my eyes, I was in complete darkness.  I wasn’t in restraints, but my body was constricted.  I tasted dirt and felt wood all around me.  I heard a familiar squeaking and then felt a sharp pain on my foot.  Place in coffin and bury with rats for 3-4 days or until girl dies.  I was not going to be cake leftovers.

Copyright ©2014 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster XVII
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I hoped the three rats were the only ones. My life or theirs. After squishing one between my foot and the bottom of this miserable coffin, I squeezed two to death in my hands. I wasn’t sure if I was becoming a heartless killer or if the instinct of survival prevailed. Either way, I was alive and they were dead. I would never be Footsteps, so I convinced myself it was survival.

Obviously, I had failed at my attempted murder. Or had I? Maybe Footsteps was dead and Maniacal had tracked me with the Doctor. It didn’t matter. I was stuck underground with dead rats. I didn’t remember what happened from the car to a rat biting my foot. I knew I had a scalpel and tried to cut Footstep’s neck. Maybe I was becoming a heartless killer. Slicing a person’s neck had to fall somewhere in the heartless category. But he was my kidnapper, so I was going to keep myself in the survivalist category.

The real question, how long had I been here? Eventually I would run out of oxygen. Had they put me through all of this just to bury me alive with rats? Months, maybe a year of torture, just to become cake leftovers? Knowing how long I had been here didn’t matter, I didn’t feel suffocated. My breathing came easy. That was more worrisome. Maybe they were keeping me alive to face the consequences. I could handle myself with the rats. They were just looking to survive like me. Survivalist against survivalist. But if they were keeping me alive to go against Footsteps, if he was still alive, that was much different. It wasn’t about heartless killer against survivalist. It was about a heartless killer seeking revenge. I should have let the rats eat me alive. No one survived revenge.
Copyright ©2014 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster XVIII
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I wondered what the sound was. Although I had never seen a waterfall, if asked to describe what I was hearing, I would answer, a waterfall. And then, the sound faded. Somehow with the absence of sound, my box brightened. I heard a machine of some sort. Maybe a drill. Maybe my death. But, whatever it was, it brought light.

With silence – no waterfall, no drill, no death – I looked to my right. I was still confined to my wooden space with my three dead survivalists. When I looked through the 3-inch drilled hole, I realized I was not buried. I was in the room where we made Cake Leftovers. I was on top of the same table. I don’t know if water has a smell, but it smelled wet. This entire time I thought they had buried me out in the wilderness, never to be found again. Instead, I was in a box and left to my own psychological torture.

Not knowing where I was, was better than knowing who I was with. I guess being buried in the woods, I would have starved to death. I completely assumed – no eating, no drinking –would lead to my death. Maybe all their hearts had to offer was a quick painful death of my now dead foes. I should have become cake leftovers. Instead, I saw three bodies getting closer. They stood in front of the hole blocking the light.

I waited. There was an eye. I stared at revenge. The eye receded, replaced by the tip of a knife.

“My turn,” I heard Footsteps say. No death for me. Just a terrifying existence.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett


Monster XIX
By: Mia L. Hazlett

The box fell apart around me. Blinded by the sudden bright light, I wasn’t able to tell who pushed me off the table, but I was familiar with the feeling of smashing against a floor. Before I could get to my knees, the wind was knocked out of me. There was a duet of laughter as my eyes focused on a blur of both Maniacal and the Doctor.

As the air refilled my lungs I caught sight of one of the boards from my coffin. It wasn’t so much the board as it was the nail sticking out of it. Footsteps neared me and I lunged towards the board. In one sweeping motion, I grabbed the board and swung it around and caught Footsteps in the forearm. The board stayed in his arm as he grabbed my foot. I turned my body and gripped the board and gave it a twist with all my might. He hollered and shot upright as blood poured from his open wound.

I grabbed the board and was quickly on my feet. Before Footsteps had time to recover, I rushed him with the board across his face. I did my best to pull and twist the board, so the impaled nail would do irreparable damage. His howl only encouraged me. Finally, the cries of pain were coming from him and not me.

He lost his balance and fell over the chair behind him. It wasn’t me, but the adrenaline within me, that had me ponce on his chest and beat his already bloodied face with the board. His fist caught me in my jaw, but I still fought him. I had a fistful of his hair and repeatedly slammed his head into the concrete floor. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t losing. I was winning.

I came out of my daze and there was applause. I sat on Footsteps’ chest and he was motionless. At his head stood Maniacal. He continued to clap his hands. My hands wore the blood of my victim. I tried to stand, but toppled backwards and landed on my ass. The Doctor came over and did that thing with his two fingers on Footsteps’ neck to see if he was alive. He shook his head no, and left the room.

Maniacal came towards me and knelt inches away. “Well done. You’re one of us now.”

I couldn’t be one of them. I couldn’t be. I was a survivalist, not a heartless killer. It was my life or his. But as I sat watching Footsteps’ bloodied body, all a result of my rage, I thought to myself, I am a heartless killer.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

Monster XX
By: Mia L. Hazlett

I had no recollection of my trip, but I was back at the beginning of my journey. I looked at the familiar dungeon cell. Cleaning measures had been taken. Nothing extensive, but there was a scent of bleach rather than the stench of death.

Hope instantly popped into my head. I pounded on the concrete wall. Instead of the reciprocated response, my door opened. A woman’s form filled the doorway, but I didn’t recognize her. I assumed it was Hope, but I had only seen her emaciated and bloodied. I stood as she stepped inside the doorway. As we embraced, I knew it was her.

The door closed behind us. We slid down the wall with our hands entwined. We communicated with our silence. There is nothing we could say. Our shared captivity and torture was our irreversible bond. Our endurance in this underground hell was our secret.

She put her head on my shoulder and I wept. Since I had come here a year or years ago, there had been no endearing touching. I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke, we were both slumped on the floor. I tried to turn my head, but the painful ache hurt too much. Hope shifted and blinked her eyes open. In the dim light, I finally noticed the walls. They painted them white. The entire room was white. Floor. Ceiling. Walls. All white. There were no more stains of my existence.

I heard keys. The door opened. Maniacal stepped in. He sat down. Hope sat up. He leaned in. We leaned in.

“Two is better than one.”

We leaned back. He leaned back. He stood up. The door opened. I heard keys. The door locked.

Copyright © 2015 Mia L. Hazlett

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s