Kyler's torture

He waited a few seconds, hoping to see some break in the monotony of her resistance; but there was none. Suddenly he bundled forwards, curled his hands into fists and rested them, not on the arms of the chair, but on Kyler's broken wrists. And as Morgas ground her shattered bones, Tolleson looped a coil of razor wire over her head and pulled it tight around her throat. Kyler's head slammed back against the chair and, even in the remoteness of her damage, she felt herself start to choke.

"Tell me, Ms Kyler! TELL ME!"

Morgas hurled his fury against her tense form like a battering ram. Her wrists pinned, her head pulled back, blood rising in her windpipe, a wave of twitching spread through her muscles like an epileptic spasm. And then a whimper of abandonment stole from her lips.

"You're dying, Ms Kyler!" said Morgas with overbearing certainty. "No matter what you say or do, I will kill you. But tell me Jason's secret and I will order an immediate end to your suffering."

Crimson torpor fastened its invisible burden onto Kyler, and she could feel her anatomy being drawn into the abyss.

"Don't listen to them, dear," said Pamela, her voice a beacon through the pain.

"But if you remain silent," threatened Morgas, "Mr Tolleson will continue your agonies for days."

Pamela tut-tutted.

"That's no way to treat a mother," she said. "Floating in all that dirty water. They should be ashamed of themselves."

Kyler saw the saturated corpse of her own mother; trapped in a case beyond the squat, rabid head of her enemy. She tried to open her lips. Morgas saw it instantly and placed his ear close so he could listen.

"H... h... hel... p—" she whispered.

"I'm trying," gasped Morgas, unaware that he was not the one Kyler was speaking to. "But you must help yourself."

The agent shut out the noise in her ears and listened with her mind for the answer she wanted.

"You know they're killing you, don't you?" asked Pamela.

Kyler tried to nod in the affirmative.

"Well, tell me!" demanded Morgas, misunderstanding the gesture.

"And all because of my poor boy," said Mrs Voorhees. "My Jason."

The wire had cut clean through the skin, flesh and muscle, and had now made contact with Kyler's trachea. Quickly, Morgas let go of her wrists. Then he snatched a hot soldering iron off the trolley and thrust it into her ribcage.

"TELL ME!"

   Friday the 13th: Carnival of Maniacs, chapter 18