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SEVENTEEN

GIRL

My teeth chatter and I can’t feel my fingertips. Weeks have gone by, but still I cling to the hope that he will let me go. I hug the cupcake scarf, holding it close to my heart. I don’t know why, but I kept that fingernail. I keep thinking, who was the girl before me and where is she now? I tried so hard to make her hear me, but I have come to the conclusion that there is no one else behind that metal door. If there was, she would be shouting back to me.

The red light makes me nervous, and as much as I hate seeing him, I want him to come back so that I can experience proper light again. I think of the school theatre and getting accidentally caught in the spotlight with the wrong prop. I wonder if my friends have forgotten what a mess I made of things.

Maybe they’re not even remotely missing me.

As that light came on, I stared at all those eyes in the audience, my heart beating like crazy. I would happily double that embarrassment to leave this dungeon.

I want to hug my cat, Meowdon.

Tears run down my cheeks as I think of the sky. I don’t even care if it’s cloudy or raining. My mum always moans about the rain and the weather in this country, but I would literally trade my right arm for a glimpse of the wet stuff. I imagine running outside with a huge grin while I dance in the puddles. That’s what I’ll do when I go home.

I punch the mattress and then I do it again and again. I’m feeble, I know it, and there’s no way on earth I could fight him off and escape this hellhole. He barely feeds me, knowing that I’m getting weaker and weaker. That’s the way he likes it. He’s deprived me of light and starved me to kill what strength I have.

I yell out and run my fingers over the metal door handle. ‘I’m hungry,’ I yell. What’s the point? He isn’t listening. If he was, I’d ask for another blanket.

A crackle comes from above. ‘I’m going to open the metal door. Can I trust you to be a good girl, because good girls get privileges? Do you understand me?’

He’s speaking to me through an intercom system. He’s been listening to me crying all this time and only now he speaks. I’ve tried so hard to be nice and get into his mind when he’s brought me food, but I’m dying here and I don’t want to die.

A thought flashes through my head as I imagine what it would be like to suddenly not be able to breathe. Would the world go black? Would I panic so hard that it would be the most terrifying moment of my life? My heart beats rapidly and I feel faint at the thought. Stop thinking like that, I say in my head. I am going to live. I nod and stare up, wondering if he’s watching me.

‘Do you understand me?’ he yells, making me jump.

I nod rapidly until my neck hurts. ‘Yes, yes, I understand.’ My voice quivers and I can’t help it.

‘Good.’

He is watching me. He’s been watching me all this time and I feel like throwing up. He’s watched me use the bucket, he’s watched me pretend to talk to my mum, where I’ve told her how I need her to rescue me. He’s watched me sleep.

I feel like I’ve been violated. Do I cry in my sleep and speak my deepest thoughts and fears out loud?

A click echoes through the underground cell. ‘Press the door handle and go through.’

What if it’s a trap? I found that fingernail. Once that door closes, does something terrible happen.

I stand there shaking.

After spending so much time wondering what’s behind that door, I can’t step forward. ‘I can’t.’ I whimper a few times as I try to speak, but can’t get my words out. ‘I don’t want to die.’

‘And I don’t want to kill you. Go.’

I open my mouth to ask about the other girl, but I think better of it. The last thing I want is to make him angry.

Standing, my legs are like jelly, but I place my hand on the icy metal handle. I stuff the cupcake scarf into the pocket of the blue dress.

‘Enter.’

That’s all he says and his voice is monotone now. ‘She who makes a brave move will be rewarded.’

I don’t trust him, but I do know I have to move forward. I can’t spend another day, night – whatever it might be out there in the real world – shivering on this mattress.

Pressing the handle, I nudge the heavy door open and step towards whatever is over the threshold.

‘Step inside and close the door.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Do it,’ he yells.

I run into the darkness and close the door. It clicks. I try the handle, but the door is locked.

I can’t get out. I can’t see. I can’t breathe.

As I gasp and hit the door, vibrations begin to rattle around me. ‘Let me out. I can’t breathe.’ I bang, over and over again, then a dim light comes on and I close my eyes. It hurts to see light after so long, so I shield them with my arm and peer out until my vision has adjusted.

Tapping on the stone floor, I step forward and remove my arm from my face completely so I can take in my surroundings. I feel as though I’m walking through a metallic arch which has a spaceship feel, well the spaceships I’ve seen in films. The vibrations get louder and I feel a puff of air coming from the vents above. I’ve seen this kind of thing before when I watched a documentary with my mum about preppers. They build underground bunkers just in case the apocalypse happens. Metal racks of dried foods are stacked up and at the other side is a small kitchenette that looks like a caravan we stayed in when we went to Wales one year for a holiday. My mouth waters as I spot a chicken and mushroom pot meal. I am so hungry I could eat the dry noodles now.

I’m relieved to see a sink and a microwave. Curiosity gets the better of me and I slide a drawer open. There is a packet of plastic knives, forks and spoons.

‘I am the only person with a code to the hatch. Anything happens to me, we both die. Do you understand?’

I nod.

‘Good. We’re learning fast, aren’t we?’

I nod again. He is watching and listening all the time. I can’t see where he’s put the cameras. The ceiling is panelled. There is a smoke detector and strip lighting. Maybe the cameras are built into those. If I wanted to reach the ceiling, I couldn’t. It’s too high. I’m only five foot two and I can’t see a chair or a mattress. Am I meant to stand all the time? Maybe there is something more comfortable through the door at the end of this huge capsule.

‘Go through the next door.’

I do as I’m told and press the door handle. This door is much lighter than the other, and as I open it another light comes on.

‘The lights will be on from seven in the morning until nine in the evening, every day.’

I stare at the small double bed nestled into the end of the capsule. There are a pair of curtains on the wall, but there are no windows.

I flinch as the sound of tweeting birds comes through a speaker and it is swiftly replaced by rolling waves, then rain. ‘I will make sure that things feel as normal as possible. You will wake up to one of these sounds every morning and I’ll leave whichever one I choose running until lunchtime. After all, I want you to be happy here. Do you like what I have done for you?’

‘Yes,’ I say through chattering teeth.

‘Sorry, I can see the temperature is low. I’m turning it up now. Open the drawers to your left.’

Sliding the top drawer of a five-drawer chest, I can see that there are several folded cardigans in a stone colour.

‘Put one on. They’re yours. There are clothes in the other drawers. They are all yours. There is washing-up liquid under the sink and some soap. You have everything you need in the capsule. Open the door to your right.’

Again, I do as I’m told. Just like in the caravan, there is the tiniest toilet and shower set up ever, all in stainless steel. I should be angry. I’ve been kidnapped and almost left to die at times, but I am so grateful for a toilet and a shower, I start sobbing with happiness. I close the door and wave.

The voice bellows through the speaker system. ‘Come out of the bathroom.’

He can’t see me in there. I almost want to do a happy dance, but instead, I open the door and step out.

‘Go back into the kitchen area.’

I close the bathroom door and head back towards the food, and I’m salivating. I’m imagining the taste of those noodles and then I spot little pots of long-life fruit and I just want to rip them open and pour the contents down my throat.

‘I have left you a meal plan. If you eat all your food too soon, you will have none left. This has to last you a month. Look at the chart.’ I can’t see it, but I keep looking. ‘It’s at the end of the rack.’

I see it. It’s half covered in a red apron that is hanging off a hook. I doubt I’ll need an apron for what I’m about to microwave.

For a moment, I imagine I’m back with Mum, chopping up the onions and chillies to make her signature puttanesca sauce to go with our home-made pasta, and I wonder if I’ll ever eat that dish again with my lovely mum. What I will be eating is one sachet, rehydrated with water or something microwaved, twice a day and a fruit pot for lunch. I also have fifty boxes of Cup a Soup and mashed potato pots that I can ration myself as snacks.

‘Bend down and look at the bottom rack.’

Bent over, I squint. It’s a little darker down here and the lighting isn’t strong. I see a box.

‘Take the box and go back into the bedroom.’ I hurry, hoping that I’m getting ever closer to eating. ‘Next to the bed is a pull-down table.’ I fumble with it until I find the release and a plastic table with two legs drops down from the wall fixings. ‘Open the box.’

‘It’s a chess set,’ I mutter under my breath.

‘Set it up on the table and close the bedroom door.’

With severely trembling hands, after closing the door, I set up the board like my dad taught me and I step back.

‘Good girl. You can play white so you go first. Make your opening move like your life depends on it.’

I move my king’s pawn. ‘King’s pawn to 1.e4.’ I wait for him to respond.

The door clicks and the lights go out.

I didn’t make the right move. He’s going to kill me.