12 Rooms

12 Rooms

by

TheRapist

Prologue

This story is real. The materials in this story are all based on actual events that took place in the Nevada desert in the summer of 2001. The names have been changed to protect the guilty, but every detail of this story has been taken from actual transcripts and video tapes archived in the facility located in the Nevada desert known simply as 12 Rooms.

Room One - Tabitha

Prelude

Tabitha Warren opened her eyes groggily. Her vision was blurred and the world was tilted and out of focus. After a few seconds, she began to realize things. She realized the world wasn’t really tilted, but her head was resting on her shoulder. She realized she was gagged and apparently restrained to a heavy wooden chair that was bolted to the bare concrete floor by heavy iron bolts. As she looked around her vision began to clear, and then other realizations began to emerge in her mind. As the fuzzy shapes in here eyes began to clear through the fog in her mind, she saw that she was staring at a concrete room and covering the walls of the room were and immense number of implements of torture. Heavy wooden tables were lined along the walls of the room on her right and left and the tables contained more instruments for use in mutilating the human body. The two items that caused her eyes to come wide open were the chainsaw and the weed trimmer. Had the circumstances been different, she might have thought she was in someone’s garage or basement, but the variety of whips, restraints, sex toys and torture supplies dispelled that notion quickly.

She began to panic. She flailed her head wildly from side to side and pulled at the restraints on her wrists and ankles. She tried to scream, to cry out for help, but the gag in her mouth kept all sound to a minimum. After almost a solid hour of trying to break out of her bonds, to cry for help and to push the gag out of her mouth, she gave up and began to cry.

How had she gotten here? She tried to think and more of her mind began to clear. She remembered waking up, showering, getting dressed for work and leaving her apartment. After that, she couldn’t remember anything, so whatever had happened to her must have happened in the...

Morning

Tabitha Warren walked out the door of her Las Vegas apartment and the hot dry air blasted here like a furnace. It was going to be really hot today, she knew. Really, really hot; triple digits for sure.

She flipped her sunglasses down off her forehead and onto her nose, pushing them into place to block the sun. She locked her apartment door and headed down the stairs. She crossed what could only loosely be described as a courtyard into the parking lot and approached her car. She began digging for her keys in her purse and nearly had them in her hand when she noticed the van. The van was parked so close to her car that she didn’t think she’d be able to even open her door far enough to get into her car.

Some people, she thought. She thought she could squeeze into the space between the grey van and her cherry red Sunfire, but she didn’t want to get her clothes dirty. She went around to the passenger side door, thinking she could just enter from that side and crawl over to the driver’s side. To her surprise, some vandal - teenagers no doubt - had covered the lock on the passenger door with super glue. She tried to pick the glue away to no avail, and she tried to force the key into the lock, but she was running out of time and didn’t want to be late for work. Heaving a sigh, she knew she’d have to try and get into the driver’s side door, even if it did mean rubbing against the grey van and getting herself dirty right before work.

An odd thought occurred to her: She didn’t recognize the van. She’d never seen it parked here before, or anywhere in her apartment complex at all.

Oh well, she thought. Maybe it’s someone’s visitors or someone new moving in. She shrugged it off and started moving into the space between the two vehicles. She reached back into her purse and began digging for her keys again.

As her fingers closed over the keyring in her purse, the door of the grey van slid quickly open, nearly knocking her over. Before she even knew what was happening, she felt hard, muscled arms grabbing her from behind. She was jerked off her feet and into the interior of the van by one large man while another slid the door quickly closed again. A rough hand was quickly over her mouth before she could cry out. She kicked her feet, trying to get a foothold and... Well, the and hadn’t quite made it into her brain yet.

Before she’d even started kicking very much, though, the man that had closed the door grabbed her ankles and pressed them hard against the floor of the van, preventing her from even moving her legs.

A third man was also in the van, she realized. He was thin, not like the two brutes holding her. He was old, bald and wearing glasses. He was also holding something in his hand. It was a syringe.

She panicked. She didn’t know what was about to happen, but she had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good. How many news stories had she read where women were kidnapped like this, never to be seen again? Was she going to be one of those women?

Before she could even think about it anymore, the thin man was pushing the needle into the skin of her arm and depressing the plunger, sending some drug into her blood. In only a few seconds, Tabitha began to feel very warm and very sleepy. As her body began to relax, her vision began to blur and she began to succumb to the drug.

The two men holding her released her and as she was slipping into unconsciousness, she felt metal around her wrists and ankles. A second later everything went dark.

The Room

Tabitha was startled from trying to remember what had happened to her when a loud noise, metal on metal, startled her. The noise had come from behind her; she tried to turn her head to see what was happening, but she couldn’t turn far enough to see anything. She heard the grating of metal hinges and knew a door was being opened behind her.

She began shaking her head again and begging for help against the tight gag in her mouth. Nothing but muffled noises came from her, though. Certainly nothing intelligible enough to be considered a plea for help.

She heard the scraping of hinges again and the door was closed sharply. She heard the loud metal on metal noise again, and assumed the door had been closed again and locked.

Still unable to see what was happening, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. The footsteps were coming around her right side and she turned her head to see what was happening.

A man in a sharp-looking business suit came into view from behind her. He was smoking a cigarette as he moved in front of her. He stopped a few feet away from her, looking at her. He looked right into her eyes, and then let his eyes roam over her body.

She just knew he was going to rape her. She could see how he was looking at her. She began to cry anew at the humiliation and violation she knew she was about to experience.

As yet, she had not been undressed. She was in the clothes she’d dressed in for work, except for her shoes. She had no idea where they were, and at this moment she didn’t care either.

“Yes. You will do,” the man said, dropping his cigarette butt to the floor and crushing it with his foot. He walked swiftly around here again, opened the door and left the room, closing the door behind him with a heavy clang.

She was confused. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she was glad for the fact that she was apparently wrong about being raped. The man had just left her there. He hadn’t even touched her.

She thought she heard voices from behind her, but it was such a faint sound that she might have been mistaken.

A few moments later, the door opened again and two men came into the room. The two men were large, like the men that had abducted her. They were dressed casually, in work shirts and blue jeans. The two men moved to her and began releasing her wrists and ankles from the restraints holding her to the chair. She was actually relieved. She breathed a sigh of relief and began crying again out of relief. Her relief was short-lived, though, as one of the men began unbuttoning her blouse. Confusion set in and she suddenly found herself wondering if these men would rape her instead of the man she’d seen earlier in the business suit. She tried to struggle and to keep the man from removing her shirt, but the man holding her was too strong. He held her easily, as if she was a child to him. She tried to kick out at the man undressing her and she actually connected with the man’s shin, but her bare foot barely even made an impression on the man. In order to better control her while she was being undressed, the man undressing her drew back his fist and punched her once, very hard, in the stomach.

She couldn’t breathe. All the wind had been knocked out of her. She tried to fall to the floor and curl into a ball, but one of the men was still holding her up. She was far too stunned to struggle anymore. The two men undressed her to her naked flesh before restraining her back in the chair as she had been before. The two men gathered up her clothing and left the room, leaving her alone and naked in the wooden chair.

The chilly air quickly made her nipples stand out and goosebumps appear all over her skin. She regained her breath quickly and was nearly hysterical in moments. She had no idea what was going to happen to her now. She was now naked in this strange room, strapped down to a chair and completely helpless. She needed to get out of here, but how? There was no way for her to escape. The torture tools on the tables included several sharp objects like a machete and an axe, but she was several feet away from the tables. Even if she could free one of her hands, she knew she couldn’t stretch far enough to reach any of the tools.

She threw her head back and screamed into her gag in frustration, knowing there was nothing she could do to prevent whatever was about to happen to her. She cried harder now, her tears were those of despair this time.

In a few minutes, the door behind her opened again and closed again. The man that had been in the business suit came into view again, but he wasn’t in any business suit this time. Now, he was wearing a sterile white outfit.

He look at her again and said, “Ah yes. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

He reached out a soft, well-manicured hand and took one of her breasts in his fingers. She shook her head and begged him with her eyes not to touch her, not to violate her, not to rape her. The man let go of her breast for a moment, but only long enough to slap her hard across her left cheek. Stunned, she looked at the man with hurt eyes, gasping sobs were the only noises coming from behind her gag.

“Ah yes,” the man said. He moved to one of the tables and retrieved a razor knife. He moved back in front of her, holding the knife before her face. Her eyes immediately were filled with fear. She could do nothing but watch the knife. He moved the blade behind her left ear - she knew he’d cut of her ear, she just knew it - and cut the strap holding the gag. He pulled the ball from her mouth and tossed it aside.

“Please...” she began, but he struck her again - harder this time - across the right cheek. She shut up.

The man placed the knife back on the table where he’d gotten it. He moved behind the girl for a moment, and then moved in front of her again. In his right hand, he had a small metal chair. He placed the chair a few feet in front of the girl and sat down in it. From a pocket in his sterile white uniform, the man produced a package of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag from it, replacing the package and lighter in his pocket.

He blew smoke and said to her, “In a moment, I’m going to release you from that chair. If you try to run, scream or talk, I will kill you with the axe on that table.” He indicated the axe to her right.

“To your left is a bare metal table,” the man explained. “You will go to it and lie on it. That is all you will do. If you do anything else, you will die.”

She looked at him with horror in her eyes. What could she do? Would he kill her? He looked like he would.

Soon, he’d finished his cigarette, again dropping the butt on the floor and crushing it with his heel. He picked up the axe off the table and moved to the chair, releasing her from her restraints. He watched her carefully and backed away a couple of feet. He held the axe at the ready and waited for her to stand up.

She waited several seconds, judging what to do next. She could try to run to the door, but what if it was locked? He’d be on her in a second and then he’d kill her with that axe. She could go for a weapon off the table, but could she really fight him off? And then what would happen? The big men would come back in and she certainly couldn’t overpower them.

She took the only option available to her. She stood up, crossed the few feet to the bare metal table the man had indicated to her and laid upon it as she’d been instructed. If he raped her, then at least she’d be alive. She waited for the violation to begin.

The man approached her and cuffed her wrists and ankles into restraints welded to the table. He stepped away, placing the axe back on the table where he’d gotten it. He was very precise in that way, she noticed. He always put things back exactly as they were before he used them.

“My wife,” the man said as he returned to her side. “Pardon me. My ex-wife looks a lot like you. She had an affair with another man, left me and took half of my money, investments and business. She even took my house, my car and my boat. What I do to you today serves two purposes for me. Mostly, it’s practice for when I can get my real ex-wife into one of these rooms, but it is also therapeutic and helps me to manage my anger until she is available for me.”

She hazarded to speak and asked him, “What... what are you going to do to me?”

The man looked down at her with deep anger. He crossed the room to one of the tables and picked up a carpenter’s hammer. He hit her hard in the belly with it, just below her ribs. All the wind was immediately driven from her.

“Shut up!” He hit her belly again. “I did not say you could speak!” He hit her again in the belly. “You will only scream and cry from now on!” He smashed the hammer down directly on her pubic mound, just above the pubic bone.

She couldn’t breathe. She was wracked with pain and her belly throbbed in agony. The last time he’d hit her had hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt. She almost vomited from the pain.

The man returned to the table and put the hammer down. He picked something off one of the many hooks on the wall near him, but she couldn’t see what it was until her returned to where she was bound on the table.

He held the instrument up and her eyes bugged out of her face. In his hands was a long leather whip with metal barbs braided into the leather every six inches or so. She shook her head back and forth and began to shriek hysterically.

“Now we will see how pretty you can scream,” the man said and swung the scourge.

Pain exploded across her chest as the whip ripped into the flesh of her breasts. One of her nipples vanished in a bloody red spray. She screamed as loudly as she could, tears running from her eyes and down into her ears. The whip fell again and tore another gash through her breasts. As bad as the first time he hit her was, this was infinitely worse. She shook her head wildly, gasping and shrieking in pain

The man raised the whip again and a long line of blood flew from the leather and spattered the ceiling above them. The whip came down again, tearing most of the skin from her left breast. She threw up at once, the foul combination of her bile and her breakfast covering her face. She coughed on her vomit as she tried to cry out more from the pain. The man tore the ravaged piece of flesh from the barbs of the whip and swung it again. Another line of blood spattered the wall as he swung the leather scourge.

The whip cut through her belly and she howled in agony again. The man swung again and another line of pain shot across her belly, then another and another. He was working into an angry frenzy and she couldn’t scream enough to keep up with his wild swings.

Eventually, all that came out of her mouth were hoarse moans. Her body from her breasts to her knees was nearly devoid of flesh and the table on which she was laying was soaked with her blood, as was much of the ceiling of the room and the wall nearest the table.

Her head lolled to the side as she began to go into shock. The man wasn’t ready to let her slip away so easily though. He put the scourge on the floor - it was too bloody to hang up again - and picked up a gardening hand fork. He bent over her and began tearing the flesh from her face with the claws of the gardening fork. She began shrieking again at the new, even more agonizing pain.

Her mind was gone or she might have worried at him ruining her breasts and face. Her looks were important to her; she wasn’t vain really, but she took pride in her looks. Now her breasts were merely mangled bits of flesh and fat, her firm belly was a torn bloody mass, and most of the skin was gone from her face.

He gouged the small claw through her face over and over, eventually ripping off most of the flesh and tearing both her eyes out from their sockets. She was mostly gone by then anyway. She couldn’t feel anything anymore, the pain had reached such a level that her brain didn’t even register it anymore and she was in shock from the trauma and the loss of blood.

Looking over the bloody mess before him on the table that only could be loosely described as a human body, he grinned. He knew this would do very well for when he could have his wife, her lover and her lawyer brought here. Soon, he would hear her cries of agony, but he would take his time with her. He’d make her scream for hours before he finally ended her pathetic life. Maybe he’d kill her lover first so he could rape her with his dismembered phallus before destroying her.

The body before him twitched slightly, some life still left in the battered mass. He decided to have mercy on this one. She was just the practice, the plaything, not the focus of his rage. He crossed the room one final time, taking a sledgehammer off the wall. He swung the sledge once, bringing it down on her face and crushing her skull. Her face exploded, blood and brain matter spraying him and the walls of the room. When he withdrew the hammer, all that was left of her face was an empty cavern of shattered bone, pooled blood and gummy strands of smashed brain matter.

A thin stream of urine ran from the cadaver’s bladder and into the drain in the table.

The End of Tabitha

Later that evening, after the man had showered, donned his regular clothing and gone back to his life, a caretaker entered the room, removed the body to a wheelbarrow, sprayed the room with soapy water and cleaned everything until it sparkled, and then sprayed everything with bleach to ensure sterility. The caretaker wheeled the body to the incinerator and disposed of the corpse. No evidence would ever be found.