Broken Birds, Part 18, Full Circle
Part 18 Full Circle They found her on a fairway of an exclusive golf course. She lay where she had fallen, curled in a fetal position, her face resting in a pool of vomit. Duct tape wrapped around her head, eyes and ears prevented her from most sensory input. It had some writing on it. One earlobe hung down, ripped when they had used her earrings to impale her mouth. She still tasted the female juice, semen, feces and piss. She smelled foul. Her hands were taped behind her back. Dried blood caked her knees and one of her nipples. Fresh blood dripped onto her hideously bruised inner thighs. Dark, angry lines crisscrossed her ass, thighs and breasts. The message written across the duct tape said, “Tell Robert how it feels.” Mercifully, she would never …