Page 8

8

Rose

Rose

W hat I need to do is get out of here. I can’t stay locked up in his basement while he rants about marriage.

It’s hard to even accept this is happening. I protest Dino Gianni demolishing the animal shelter one day and the next day I’m locked up in his basement.

I walk around the place, looking for any way of escaping. I could stand at the top of the stairs again, try to burst out when the door opens. It might work this time, but I doubt it.

I thought I could get by him and get out of wherever the hell I am, but he was too fast for me. Too fast and too strong.

He scared me with how he reacted. No matter what I did to him, his face didn’t change. He’s covered in scratches from me fighting him, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Or care.

He’s scaring me right now, and he’s not even down here. I know he’s up there somewhere. Is he thinking about me? What’s he planning for me ?

He must be insane. There can’t be any other explanation. He has kidnapped me. Brought me down here like it’s The Silence of the Lambs. I suppose I should be lucky I’m not down the bottom of a well.

I manage a half smile, but it soon fades. This is serious. I need to get out of here.

I know he could kill me. No one knows I’m here. I’m in big trouble.

I haven’t got my handbag. That’s out there, left on the ground, when I was attacked by Ricardo. He scared me a lot more than Dino. He was terrifying. That was true insanity.

The way his mood changed as he talked to me, the things he said, the way his eyes looked so utterly vacant, like I was just a pet mouse for him to play with then destroy. I got the feeling he might kill me for fun, the way he was talking. Like I wasn’t even human in his eyes.

Dino saw me as human, at least. That’s something. Talked to me instead of at me. The hunger in his eyes was very different.

There’s a part of my brain that’s grateful for Dino grabbing me and getting me out of there. If he hadn’t come along, I don’t know what might have happened.

I refuse to think about it. I walk around the basement again. A bathroom, solid stone walls painted white. A bedroom, solid walls again. Kitchen. Lounge. Locked door that goes into God alone knows what. A central corridor linking the rooms together. The stairs up from the lounge to the locked door, the only way out.

Or is it?

I go back to the bathroom. A drain but too small to climb into. The lounge has a sofa and rug. I lift the rug, hoping to see a trapdoor. Instead, I see stains that look worryingly like dried blood.

I run my hands over the walls. I walk up to the top of the stairs and try to get the door open with my shoulder. It’s solid. Reinforced. All I get are bruises for my efforts.

There’s nowhere to go. Suddenly, it feels like there’s no air down here. I gasp for breath. I need to keep a hold of myself. I’m not getting out if I panic.

I walk back down the stairs and look at the bookcase. Fiction. Romance. Stuff I’ve read before. Some stuff I haven’t. Philosophy. Science. Geography. Animal training techniques.

Is that what I am to him? An animal to be trained?

Fuck him. That’s what I say in response to that. I can’t believe he has the balls to suggest we’re going to get married after what he’s done to me. As if I would marry my kidnapper.

He’s insane. It’s the only explanation.

I go into the bathroom again. I’m dirty and I want a bath, but to have one feels like accepting my fate. I’m not willing to do that. I don’t live down here. This isn’t my home. My home is out there in Gordon’s Cove.

My father won’t be home for a few days. He does not know where I am. Will he try to call me? He’s not done it before when he’s been away. He rarely takes his cellphone with him. What about Caroline and Eddie? Will they notice I’ve gone? They might or they might be too busy being in love.

The shelter won’t notice either. We’ve a couple of employees, Sue and Rachel, but they’re not there at the minute. No animals, so no work.

The bath has a panel along the side of it. Maybe there’s a drain under there. The shower is separate and I can’t get out that way.

I get my fingers into the edge of the panel, but it refuses to move. I walk back out. There’s a little kitchen down here. There must be a knife in there. Why didn’t I get one when I tried to run? I make a note to keep one on me at all times.

There isn’t one. No cutlery at all. The best I can do is a metal spatula for eggs. I carry that back into the bathroom and wedge it in the side of the bath panel.

I get it loose and almost whoop with delight. Underneath is a drain I should be able to fit into. It looks like it was there before the bath. It looks old.

I kick the pipe that runs down from the bath. It snaps in half. That gives me enough room to pull the grate open. It’s a foot and a bit wide. Can I fit in that?

I lower my feet in and try to shift my way through the gap. I get to my shoulders before I get stuck. I push as hard as I can and then I’m down. I’m in the sewer below the building, a real old city sewer.

I cry. About four feet along, the sewer is blocked with bricks. They won’t move, no matter how hard I punch them. The drain runs away under them. I’ve nowhere to go but back up.

I think about staying here, but what’s the point? I climb back up, getting increasingly filthy. As I get my shoulders up and out, they wedge themselves in the grate.

I’m still there when Dino comes back down carrying a tray of food. He walks into the bathroom and spots me at once. “Where the fuck are you going?” he asks, putting the tray down on the floor. “There’s no way out except down the altar.”

“Fuck you,” I say.

He grabs my shoulders and pulls. With a scraping of the dress, I’m through the gap, the fabric ripping as I come up. I stand up and brush myself down. The dress is ruined.

“Look at you,” he says. “You need to get clean. ”

He leans past me and starts filling the bath. Steamy water rises into the air. He glances under the bath. He turns the faucet off. “You broke the pipe,” he says.

“So what?”

“So there’s nowhere for the water to drain but onto the floor.” He frowns, like he’s thinking for a moment. “You can use my bath upstairs if you behave.”

“Oh, I’ll behave,” I reply. “Honest I will.”

His eyes narrow. He grabs the dressing gown off the back of the door, pulling the cord out of it. “Hands together,” he says.

“Why?”

“Do it.” His voice is like ice and I feel a terror in the pit of my stomach. I get the feeling people have heard that tone of voice from him before. Maybe the last thing they hear before they die.

I put my hands together. He binds them with the cord, knotting it tight before walking through to the primary space of the basement. He picks up a cushion from the sofa and pulls the cover off it, shoving it over my head. “This way,” he says, taking me by the wrists and leading me over to the stairs.

“Please,” I say as I ascend the stairs. “I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done if you just let me go. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Not until we’re married,” he replies. “No whining. It won’t work.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to.”

We’ve reached the top of the stairs. I find that out by stumbling forward. He grabs hold of me, putting an arm around my shoulder. I pull away, and he laughs at me.

He actually laughs. It’s a bitter sound, and it chills my blood. “Still trying to get away,” he says. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that.”

He walks me along a corridor that’s got a wooden floor. I can see a little through the cushion cover. Lights in sconces, that’s about it.

We go up another flight of stairs, and then I hear a door opening. “Stand there and don’t move,” he says.

The door closes, and there’s the rattle of a key in a lock. He pulls the cushion cover off my head and I look around me. We’re in an enormous bathroom, bigger than any I’ve ever seen.

There’s a massive clawfoot tub in the middle of the room, big enough for about four people. He turns on the faucets, and it fills. As it does so, he collects towels and washcloths, piling them up on a chair beside the bath. He gathers up shampoo and a bar of soap, both unopened.

“Get undressed,” he says as the air fills with steam.

I show him the bonds around my wrists. “How am I supposed to do that?”

He walks over to me and unties the cord, letting it fall to the floor. “Now get undressed,” he says, staring into my eyes.

“Not with you watching me.”

He grabs hold of the dress and rips it in two, yanking the halves apart like it’s made of tissue paper.

He leans close to me when that’s done, lowering his voice. “You are under the misapprehension that you are in charge of things,” he says. “This is not a negotiation. This is not a debate. I tell you to do something and you do it.”

“Or what?” I say, but my voice is shaking and he notices.

There’s a flicker of a smile on his face. “Want to find out? ”

“Please don’t do this,” I try. “Please let me go.”

He shakes his head, reaching behind me and unhooking my bra clasp. “You shouldn’t think you need to be modest. Tomorrow, we will be married. You will be my bride. You will belong to me.”

“Why?” I say, my voice a whine. “I don’t understand why.”

“You don’t have to understand. You just have to obey.”

“Is this about the shelter? You can demolish it, I don’t care. Just let me go.”

He pulls at the bra straps and then I’m topless. I fold my arms across my chest, trying to maintain the last shreds of dignity. He smiles again, glancing down at my arms.

“Suit yourself,” he says, kneeling down on the floor. As he reaches forward toward my panties, I shove my knee into his face as hard as I can.

It smacks him in the mouth. I’m so surprised by my success I’m not sure what to do. I go to kick him as he spits out blood.

He catches my leg before I can make contact, twisting me sideways until I lose my balance. I fall to the tiles with a smack and all the air goes out of my lungs. “Try again if you want,” he says. “I like a woman with some fire to her.”

I lunge for him, still gasping for air. He bats my hands away, getting his arms around me and pressing me tight in a bearhug, lifting me back to my feet.

Something happens when he does it, something I never would have expected in a million years.

I feel something.

I can’t explain what it is. It’s the way he holds me. The anger subsides and I close my eyes. For a split-second, I feel safe in that hold. I don’t want it to end.

The heat of his body feels good. The solidness too. It’s so strong. I feel safe then, like he’s protecting me.

I ignore the feeling, shoving him as hard as I can. He doesn’t let go. It’s like pushing a freight train. He’s not going anywhere until he’s ready. I might as well try to move a boulder with my bare hands.

The strength fades from me. My shoulders sag and only then does he loosen his grip. At once, I miss his touch. What the hell is wrong with me?

He kneels again, and this time I let him do it. He slides my panties to the floor, and I’m naked. He remains where he is, his eyes staring between my legs.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him show any genuine emotion. There’s color in his cheeks, and he glances up at me with hunger in his eyes.

“Into the tub,” he says at last, getting to his feet and lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing at all.

He lowers me into the water. It’s just the right temperature. “Take as long as you need,” he says. “Press the button by the door when you’re done.”

He unlocks the door and walks out without looking back. I immediately climb out of the tub and over to the window. It’s locked. As is the door. There’s nothing in any of the drawers but towels. No razors. No scissors. Nothing I can use as a weapon.

I try my best to get the door to open, but it won’t budge. I return to the tub and before I know what I’m doing, I’m climbing back into it, sinking down and closing my eyes.

He’s seen me naked. He stripped me. That’s the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I should feel awful and I do. That’s not what scares me so much, though.

What terrifies me is the fact that a tiny part of me enjoyed it when he stripped me. What the fuck does that mean?