The 'Embroidery Scene' - a scene cut from Compulsion


Ronni could contain herself no longer.
She gripped the door handle and twisted it hard.
Nothing happened.
"Open the door," she called.
No one came.
She banged hard on the wood with the flat of her hand.
Slammed it repeatedly until her palm throbbed.
They must be able to hear her, they were only across the corridor.
They can hear you. They're ignoring you. They've got other things on their minds.
Ronni kicked the bottom of the door angrily, leaving a scuff mark on the paint.
What the hell were they doing in that room?
She tried to swallow but her throat was dry.
She could hear the blood pounding in her ears.
Her heart thumping against her ribs.
Again she hammered on the door, using both fists this time.
It was useless.
Ronni took a couple of steps back and looked around the room for something heavy.
Perhaps if she could smash the lock...
She could see nothing weighty enough.
A chair?
No good.
She needed something she could grip. Something she could use to batter away at the lock until it splintered and buckled.
There was nothing.
She stepped towards the partition once again and began hammering frantically on the wood with her fists.
They would have to come eventually.


Eva Cole paused for a moment when she heard the thudding of flesh against wood.
She looked in the direction of the noise then at Jack Fuller who merely nodded.
Helen understood.
She crossed to the small, low table and regarded the objects that lay upon it.
A large pair of scissors.
Several needles.
Some black thread.
(which she herself had provided)
Two Stanley knives.
One claw hammer.
A bolt cutter.
Three pairs of pliers and an assortment of screwdrivers and chisels.
(courtesy of Jack Fuller's toolbox)
Some secateurs.
(from George Errington)
Two fishing hooks.
(brought in by Donald Tanner)
A bottle of iodine, some gauze and bandages.
(taken from the pharmacy by Harry Holland)
Eva reached for the scissors.
Donna Freeman watched, her body rigid with fear.
She didn't even move when Eva cut through the thin material of her knickers, the metal cold against her thigh.
The older woman dropped the soiled garment onto the floor beside the bed then replaced the scissors on the table.
Donna was weeping quietly, the sound muffled by the tape across her mouth.
Eva threaded one of the needles.
Colin Glazer gripped one of Donna's ankles. Donald Tanner the other.
They parted her legs a little wider and used all their weight and strength to hold the girl still.
Eva set to work.
Working with breathtaking swiftness and efficiency she ran the needle through the outer lips of Donna's vagina.
The point punctured the delicate flaps of flesh with ease.
Eva drew the thread across from right to left then pushed the steel through the labia again and again and made another stitch left to right.
Blood welled up from each puncture but Helen Kennedy dabbed at the crimson with a piece of gauze, allowing Eva to continue with her expert strokes.
Each time the point pierced her most sensitive flesh, Donna tried to arch her body off the bed but she was held immobile by the straps.
With every flesh jab of the needle, she screamed into the gag, tears pouring down her cheeks and soaking the mattress.
More than once she thought that she was going to faint. Feared she would vomit as a fire seemed to be building between her legs, raging up into her belly and beyond.
Eva continued her ministrations, drawing the needle back and forth.
She was finished within five minutes.
Helen dabbed some more blood from Donna's vagina and Eva wiped some spots from her own fingers.
Donna lay motionless, her face as white as milk.
She didn't even move when she saw Jack Fuller, Harry Holland and George Errington reach for the pliers.


Ronni stood against the door, her fists red.
Her arms ached and her head was beginning to throb.
Why hadn't they come? Even if it was only to shut her up.
She raised one hand and struck weakly at the door. Then she backed off and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the handle as if that would cause it to turn.
What were they doing in that room across the corridor?
Again she looked at the severed telephone cable on the other side of the room.
And if it was connected, who would you ring?
Desperation. Anxiety. Anger.
Emotions whirled around inside her head until she felt her skull would explode.
And, strongest of all, was the crushing feeling of helplessness.
Ronni ran a hand through her hair and approached the door once more.
If you pound away long enough, they've got to come.
She began hammering on the door again.


Ronni didn't know whether to scream or vomit.
She did neither.
She merely dropped to her knees, her eyes bulging madly in the sockets. Transfixed by the sight before her.
At first she wondered if what she was staring at was some kind of bizarre joke.
The figure that was propped up on the bed didn't look like a human being. It bore more resemblance to a blood drenched mannequin.
The crimson fluid was smeared all over it.
The lank, dish-water blonde hair was matted with it.
The bare mattress was sodden.
The pale flesh was spattered too.
The hands looked as if they'd been dipped in red paint.
When Ronni saw that the fingers and thumbs had been cut off she felt her stomach somersault.
She also saw the blood between the legs. Congealed within the downy pubic hair.
If she saw the stitches that held Donna Freeman's vaginal lips together, it didn't seem to register.
There were so many other sights to gape at.
So many other horrors to digest.
The girls bra was soaked in blood, most of which seemed to have come from her face and head.
As her head lolled back against the wall, Ronni saw why.
Her mouth was open but it resembled little more than an open wound, filled with dark clots of blood. Through the tumescent lumps, Ronni could see several cracked teeth. There was also a small cut on the bottom lip that was pumping out fresh crimson fluid.
The whites of Donna's eyes were now pure red, gleaming in the half-light like some creature from a nightmare.
"What have you done to her eyes?" she gasped, barely able to force the words out.
There was blood and clear liquid running down Donna's cheeks.
"What have you done?" Ronni repeated, her voice little more than a whisper.
"Punished her," said Fuller, flatly.
"She desecrated her own body," Donald Tanner said. "Abused it. Look at those things stuck through her ears and nose."
He indicated the earrings and studs.
"And navel," Harry Holland added.
"Now she's got some other piercings," Tanner hissed.
"Oh my God," Ronni murmured.
"You were right, Ronni," Fuller admitted. "If we'd released her she would have told the police what went on here. They all would. We'd have been the ones in trouble and that isn't right."
"Now she can't tell anyone what happened," George Errington added.
"You've killed her," Ronni said, staring hypnotically at Donna's ravage body.
"She's not dead," Fuller assured her. "We'll release her soon. And the others when we've punished them too."
"The police will come," Ronni insisted.
"Why should they?" Fuller challenged. "Why should they suspect us? And, as I said, no one will be able to say what happened here."
Ronni felt a wave of nausea sweep over her and she took a step back.
Helen Kennedy put a hand out to steady her.
"We cut off her fingers so she couldn't write down who had done this to her," Fuller began. "We cut out her tongue so she couldn't tell anyone. We blinded her so she couldn't find her way back here and identify us."
Ronni finally managed to tear her horrified gaze from Donna's immobile form.
She put a hand over her mouth.
"We'll do the same to the others," Fuller continued.
"This is madness," Ronni said, shaking her head. "You're all insane." The coppery stench of blood filled her nostrils and she gritted her teeth as she fought back the urge to vomit.
"We've finished with her now," Fuller insisted, nodding towards the bed and its reeking, bloodied occupant.
Colin Grazer and Harry Holland crossed to Donna. One slid his hands beneath her armpits, the other grabbed her ankles and they carried her out of the room.
Ronni saw some drops of blood dripping onto the polished floor of the corridor.
"She'll die," snapped Ronni.
"No she won't," Fuller said with an air of certainty. "Her wounds have been treated correctly. She's lost some blood but not enough to kill her."
"And you'd know wouldn't you, Jack?"
"I was a medical orderly, Ronni."
"You're a butcher," Ronni snarled, angrily.
"If you don't want to watch, I suggest you go back to your room," Fuller told her.
"Who's next?" she wanted to know.
"Brown. The youngest."
"And you're going to mutilate him the same way?"
"We're going to punish him, yes."
Ronni slumped back against the wall, her head spinning.
From below, she heard footsteps ascending.

© Shaun Hutson 2000